Tag Archives: hope

coming out

When Paul was in chains in Rome, he rejoiced that the power of the gospel was seen in his weakness.

One thing that I have read continually from those who heard Ravi Zacharias speak is this: when he spoke, you knew you were in the presence of a great man. he was so articulate, so wise, so charismatic. He could work a crowd. He could answer any objection.

Paul was just the opposite. In fact, Paul said that he preached in weakness and trembling. He was ridiculed frequently for NOT being a great public speaker, or a skilled rhetorician.

As I was thinking these things, I decided to come out. I have hidden something about myself for many years. I’ve hidden it even from myself, preferring to beat myself up for not being quite right than acknowledging that I have a weakness that I can do very little about.

I have anxiety disorder. Whether it was inherited or whether it was learned through much experience, or perhaps a little of both, it is a chain around me that I cannot rid myself of.

My brain warns me that I am in danger and tells me to flee, usually at the most inopportune time.

My heart races. My face flushes. I break out in a sweat. I start to shake. My words start to stammer.

If it is bad, I won’t eat.

I wake up frequently in the middle of the night having conversations in my head, running events through my head over and over again – until I break out into a sweat and my body temperature goes up.

I read recently that Herman Bavinck, arguably the greatest theologian of the 20th century, vomited before every sermon.

I don’t vomit. But I completely identify with the sentiment.

I manuscript sermons because I don’t know when my mind will go blank. I rehearse conversations because I have no idea what to do in them.

Social events are exhausting. I tend to flee somewhere just to regroup. Weddings are torture.

My mind tells me that everything is OK. God is on the throne. I am just human. My conversation is fine.

But there is a part of my brain that attacks me during every single conversation:

“You are such an idiot. I can’t believe you said that. They are going to hate you now. You will be left alone. Don’t you know how to people?”

“You are doing this wrong. You are going to fail. You’ll never make this. They will think you are stupid.

I won’t try out a new restaurant if the ordering procedure is too different. I have never tried sushi. I have never attempted to do something new for fear of failing.

When I am in a new place, or trying something new that I am required to do, my heart races and I go into panic mode. “Failure deserves to be beaten, outcast, isolated, and alone.”

I would far, far rather serve the table than sit down at it and be served. When I am clearing dishes I know what is expected, and when I know what is expected, I don’t break out in a cold sweat and listen to my heart pound in my ears.

I have been like this as long as I could remember. When I was younger, I would pinpoint a person that I figured was an acceptable person and try to imitate them. Maybe I wouldn’t be rejected if I could be someone else.

But that is a hard way to live.

One of my earliest memories was being terrified of trying out the slide. My parents, not knowing what to do, spanked me until I went down.

I remember the absolute terror of my first fire drill when I was about 5. They should not allow children to be tortured like that.

I self-medicated with nicotene for years. It gave me a good excuse to leave any social situation and it would calm my panicked nerves. But when I quit several years ago, my panic attacks and anxiety would attack from out of nowhere.

Today I know that it has a name and there are things to do about it. I have anxiety disorder.

I have anxiety disorder.

My dad used to say that worrying about stuff never helped. He was fond of saying that the things he worried the most about never happened. I’m very glad for him.

For me, everything that I ever worried about actually did happen, but those are stories for another time.

The curse on this world is very real. People do things that are even worse than you can imagine. The hate that the world can throw at you is unfathomable.

Illness is real. Cancer is real. Brain damage is real. Suffering is real.

The cross is real, and if we are Jesus’ we will pick it up with him and follow him.

And like Paul, when those chains tie us down, paralyze us and keep us from doing what we want to do – God will show himself strong.

“How can you be a minister” – my anxiety tells me repeatedly.

And then I remember Paul’s words:

(1Corinthians:2:1-5)  And I, brethren, when I came to you, came not with excellency of speech or of wisdom, declaring unto you the testimony of God. For I determined not to know any thing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified. And I was with you in weakness, and in fear, and in much trembling.
And my speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power:  That your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God.

And so I’ve decided to quit pretending that I’m something I am not. I will speak the truth. I will teach from house to house. I will visit. I will call. I will do what I can to show the power of God in the cross of Christ.

But then I might have to sit down. I might have to go outside and regroup. I might need to do something to calm my pounding heart and my rapid breathing.

I’m not the kind of preacher that has everything together. When people see me, they don’t say, “I’m in the presence of a great man” and that’s OK.

Because if I can lead someone to the living water, if I can exalt the power of God, if I can tell you about the beauty of Jesus who sweat great drops of blood, who fell down terrified at Gethsemane in order to bring me to God – then it is all worth it. Because I also know that when I am at the Marriage Supper of the Lamb, I will sit in his presence and rejoice and no longer panic. I will no longer feel like an outcast. I will no longer be an outsider looking in on the normals.

And that is what I long for. But more than that, I long to be free from sin and misery.

In the meantime, don’t look for me to exalt human strength. I don’t have any. When I am in God’s presence, it won’t do me any good anyway.

Instead, I have an anxiety disorder. And so I look to Jesus.

Jesus didn’t come for the well. He came for the sick. He didn’t come for the strong, he came for the weak and foolish – and that is me.

If you are like me, and struggle with these things, don’t be ashamed. Walk right into it, for Jesus is with you through the valley of the shadow of death.

I wrote these words so that you might not feel so alone. There are a lot of us out here. I just thought that you might want to meet one.

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Filed under Anxiety, Hope

To seek the lost

Jesus said that one who is healthy doesn’t need a physician.

If you won’t admit you are hurt, you will flee the healer.

If you won’t admit you are weak, you will reject the One who is Strong.

If you won’t admit you are broken, you will turn from the One who puts you back together.

If you won’t say that you are lost, you will run from the Shepherd who seeks you.

If you refuse to “be a victim”, you will refuse the arms that hold you.

Jesus didn’t come to help the strong, the wise, the intrepid, the rich, the powerful.

He came to seek and save that which was lost, broken, sinful, weary, frightened, hurting…

If that is you, call to Him. He will never, ever forsake the little ones who come to Him.

If you don’t know this about Christ, read what His Apostle Luke has to say about him.

Luke 19:10 “ For the son of man came to seek and save that which was lost.”

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What if…?

What if I fail?

What if I’m not strong enough?

What if I’m not smart enough? What if I say the wrong thing? What if I pour everything I have into it and it isn’t enough?

Or worse, what if I just don’t want to? What if I get tired? What if I fall into sin one too many times?

What if everything is my fault? What if what they say about me is true? What if I can’t figure it all out?

What if those things that I thought were right were actually wrong? What if they lied to me? What if I made a decision that was foolish?

What if my health completely collapses and my anxiety and my fears smother me completely and all I can do is rock back and forth and cry out “Abba, Father”?

What if my good works were selfish? What if my gift of cold water wasn’t enough? What if I didn’t visit enough?

What if I just get tired and can’t read another dry theology text book? What if my words fail? What if I can’t tell the difference between finitude and sin? Between rest and laziness? What if I don’t do enough?

What if opportunity came knocking but I was just too tired, too exhausted, to discouraged and too disappointed to answer?

I can’t sort it. I look into the depths of my soul and all I can see are my failures and missed opportunities and careless words and –

What if I’m not sorry enough for my sins? What if my repentance isn’t good enough? What if my faith isn’t strong enough?

(Pro 12:25) Anxiety in a man’s heart weighs it down, But a good word makes it glad.

Is there a good word? Is there one little Word to fell the prince of darkness grim?

I can’t find rest in my soul. I can’t find rest in empty platitudes. I can’t even discern the thoughts and intentions of my own heart. I think I mean well, but what do I know?

But I know a Word that cannot lie, that cannot mislead, and that cannot deceive, and he says,

(Matt 11:28-30)  28 Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
  29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
  30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

And so, Lamb of God, I come again. I’m glad you don’t get tired of me. I’m glad for your perfect righteousness and holiness that you gave to me. I’m glad for your resurrection and the new life you give me again and again and again. Refresh me again, O Lamb of God.

I’m glad you lift me in your wings. I’m glad that you told me to come to you in the day of trouble.

And so, Lamb of God, I come to you again. For I’m in trouble. My heart is heavy. My foolishness and ignorance is weighing on me again. I’m tired and hurting. And so I come to you again.

I’m glad that you said, “the one who comes to Me I will by no means cast out.” (Jn. 6:37)

Because I am coming again. I am coming because I believe your words. I am coming because you said you wouldn’t cast me out and I cannot bear the thought of being outcast. So here I am. Waiting. Wash me in your precious blood and take my sins away.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

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Filed under Gospel, Words

A Loathsome Vermin?

Jonathan Edwards’ sermon, “Sinners in the hands of an angry God” taught generations of American church-goers that God views us as disgusting vermin, barely tolerable and loathsome in his eyes, as revolting as a spider on a thread.

I believe that sin is far, far worse than we can even fathom, but it is precisely because of the exaltation of mankind as the image-bearer of God (Psalm 8) that sin arouses such wrath in a holy God.

If we were disgusting vermin, sin would not have aroused God’s pity and compassion. It is precisely because of God’s love for us that he is determined to deliver us from the bondage of sin, so much so that he gave his only begotten son, and delivered him up for us all.

The truth is that our sin nature is not part of God’s original design, but a result of man’s fall. God has provided a redeemer because of his great love wherewith he loved us. Christ came to restore that which was lost. (John 3:16)

If you do not believe in the Lord Jesus, come to him to find your value and worth in him. No one that comes to him will be cast out. He calls you to himself because you are created in his image and sin has defaced that image and made it ugly. Come to him for cleansing and healing and forgiveness. You are a great sinner in need of great grace for the wrath of God is coming. But that is different than saying that you are a disgusting vermin. God desires that you be all that you can be and he calls to you to be free from the bondage of sin through faith in the Son of God.

If you are in Christ, you are also not a disgusting vermin, barely tolerable by God. You are a child of his love, a first-born heir of eternal life in Christ. You are a special treasure, a royal priesthood, his bride, his body and he loves you with an infinite love that surpasses anything we know on this earth.

The goal of the Christian life is not to try to make yourself less loathsome to God. The goal is to rest in his love, believe in his promises, understand his compassion, and grow in his grace.

It is the language of a reviler and an abuser – the language of the devil – that tears down the image of God in a person. The devil reviles. “You are loathsome. You are disgusting. God barely tolerates you, you revolting worm. He can’t wait to throw you into hell.” This motivates no one to good works, to love, to worship. We become what is expected of us. Religion is turned into a crowd of groveling worms trying to outdo each other in false humility.

But this is not the good news. The good news is that no matter how great your sin is, you have a far greater savior, who loves you and gave himself for you. He is restoring his image in you that you might finally be free and clean and stand before him whole and complete. His compassions don’t fail. His mercy is everlasting. His love is infinite.

His love for you calls you out of hiding, and says to you, “Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.”

Rather than viewing us as loathsome, revolting insects, he is a friend of sinners. This knowledge calls to us, invites us to him and drives us to confession, worship and adoration.

“And this is eternal life, that they might know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.”

Imagine a young woman. She grows up in an abusive environment. Suppose her church was tremendously influenced by Elisabeth Elliot, Joshua Harris, and the purity culture – as an example. So she was taught that purity is the same as holiness, and when you loose your virginity, you spoiled your “rose” so that no man would ever want it.

She has been repeatedly raped and molested for years. Or just once. The dynamic is the same. Her abusers have impressed upon her that she is worthless, ugly, loathsome. That she deserved it.

Her worst fear is that God also finds her to be a loathsome vermin.

She has “lost her virginity” and can never get it back so she makes the connection.

No one will ever want me. I am loathsome. I am a vermin, disgusting to God and man.

She might dare to hope that one day, all of those good things that she hears about will apply to her – but for the most part, love and joy, peace and rest, intimacy and glory – those things are for the others, not for her.

And then she reads “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” and discovers that the “greatest theologian in American history” has validated her conclusion. She is indeed loathsome and disgusting, a spider or other loathsome insect dangling over hell.

I wonder how many other suicides took place in New England after that sermon…..

Should not the message of the church be “Jesus, the friend of publicans and sinners” who touches us and says, “I am willing; be clean”.

You are washed, cleansed, purified, whole, complete and loved by your father in heaven for the sake of Christ, if only you accept such benefit with a believing heart.

Come to him and rest. Jesus doesn’t find you disgusting. He came to seek and to save that which was lost. He hates sin and desires all men everywhere repent and believe.

But he doesn’t find you disgusting.

He is angry at rebellion and sin. His wrath abides upon the unbeliever so long as they are not converted. But he doesn’t find you disgusting.

He is calling you with open arms, with goodness and mercy and compassion, as a nursing mother has compassion on her child. Come to him. He won’t cast you away.

He will clothe you in his righteousness, he will glorify you with the same glory that he is glorified with himself.

You are not “barely tolerable” in the eyes of God. Rest in his love.

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Filed under Abuse, Faith, Goodness, Gospel

What to say?

I’ve been having a hard time finding words to say. Perhaps it is because I’ve said them before, or perhaps I am just tired. The world now is experiencing what many of us have experienced for years.

Some of us know what it is like to have a debilitating, and perhaps deadly, illness that doctors can’t do anything about.

But I really don’t mean this to be a “I told you so” post, because it isn’t. Quite the opposite, in fact. I mean it to be a comfort with the same comfort that my wife and I have learned over the years of struggling with isolation and illness.

It has something to do with idols. Where do we turn when we don’t have any answers? Where do we go when we don’t have any strength? Where do we place our trust when the world is upside down.

When it strikes hard, your idols are revealed. That is painful, and it is a hard ride, but it is glorious in the end. As long as you learn what the Psalmist finally learned:

(Psalm 33:16-22)  16 The king is not saved by a mighty army; A warrior is not delivered by great strength.
  17 A horse is a false hope for victory; Nor does it deliver anyone by its great strength.
  18 Behold, the eye of the LORD is on those who fear Him, On those who hope for His lovingkindness,
  19 To deliver their soul from death, And to keep them alive in famine.
  20 Our soul waits for the LORD; He is our help and our shield.
  21 For our heart rejoices in Him, Because we trust in His holy name.
  22 Let Thy lovingkindness, O LORD, be upon us, According as we have hoped in Thee.

Remember all of the money that you spent on conferences? Remember all of the power that you gave your favorite celebrity pastor? Remember the televangelist that promised you that you would be healthy, wealthy and wise?

Remember all the books you bought? The long theological debates that you had online?

Remember when you thought that the person you voted in office would really save you from all your troubles?

All of the times you thought that your righteousness and your own hand would save you?

Just 6 weeks ago, I spoke to someone who told me that these kinds of diseases only happen in other countries, where they don’t know how to eat healthy food, and sanitize themselves, and live like proper Christians….

And to a certain extent, we tend to think the same way. These kinds of things happen to others. Not to us.

We are God’s people. We are American Evangelicals! We finally won the cultural wars! We are back in the business of building that “city on the hill” for the whole world to see. The American dream!

Funny how things disappear, isn’t it? Funny how it proves true, over and over again, that we are but dust. Like the flowers of the field, we fade and die.

And God sends things to remind us that the greatest assets that men and women have – wisdom, righteousnesses, social charity, cultural wars, armies, battleships, money, power, institutions (even “Christian” ones) – will all fade and die and be forgotten. One tiny virus brings the world of men to its knees, until the Keeper of Time says, “stop now”.

It is interesting how and illness that no one can do anything about can change our perspective.

And why is this? Because God will never give his glory to another.

So here is the comfort. God has ways of stripping away our trust in horses, armies, kings, medicine, doctors, politicians, elections, church leaders, celebrities.

And the purpose for all of it is for us to finally fall on our knees and say, “Our soul waits upon the Lord. He is our help and our shield.”

We can’t even get toilet paper unless he decrees it. And that is a wonderful thing, for he is good and his lovingkindness is forever.

We hope in YOUR lovingkindness, O Lord. Remember us, for the sake of Christ. He is our help and our shield.

Amen.

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Filed under Coronavirus, Trust

Fear, Death and Panic

As most of California, we are staying at home.

I also have symptoms. I’m not worried about me. But I certainly don’t want to spread anything around, out of love for my neighbor.

As I watch the stockpiling of weird supplies, the fist fights in the lines,  the empty shelves ravished by frightened people, I remembered what Satan said to God, accusing Job of loving the Lord simply because the Lord gives him things.

4 And Satan answered the LORD, and said, Skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath will he give for his life. (Job 2:4)

The power of the devil is the fear of death. It is HIS voice that causes the panic and the fear and the bargaining.

And that makes me sad. Life is a vapor (James 4:14) and we have no control over it anyway. Virus or no virus, every moment we are under the sentence of death, and held in bondage by the fear of death.

All that a man has, he will give for his life.

But this is not us, beloved brothers and sisters in Christ. Jesus became flesh, united himself to us and was obedient unto death. The sword fell on him and the sting of death is removed. And then, in this flesh, he rose from the dead for our justification. When the sword of God’s wrath fell on Jesus, Satan’s greatest weapon was destroyed – the fear of death.

14 Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same; that through death he might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil;
15 And deliver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage. (Heb 2:14-15)

For us, we are now no longer in bondage to the fear of death, since death is now no longer a punishment for sin, but a dying to sin and an entering into eternal life.

19 For I know that this will turn out for my deliverance through your prayer and the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ,
20 according to my earnest expectation and hope that in nothing I shall be ashamed, but with all boldness, as always, so now also Christ will be magnified in my body, whether by life or by death.
21 For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.
22 But if I live on in the flesh, this will mean fruit from my labor; yet what I shall choose I cannot tell.
23 For I am hard pressed between the two, having a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better.
24 Nevertheless to remain in the flesh is more needful for you.
(Phi 1:19-24)

Whether we live, then, or die, our concern is for the glory of Christ and the good of our neighbor. If he calls us home tomorrow, or down the road apiece, we still belong to Him and our prayer should always be that Christ be magnified in our bodies, whether we live or die.

This does not mean that we willfully put ourselves in danger. It does not mean that we act foolishly. And it certainly does not mean that keeping the outward ceremonies of the law (the physical gathering of the church) should outweigh our neighbor’s life. This was the mistake the Pharisees made, and it made Jesus angry.

It means this: Love your neighbor. Don’t sell your dignity, honor and birthright for a case of toilet paper. Don’t take all the eggs. Leave some for someone who needs them more than you.

Consider that person in line as more important than yourself. “Will God not clothe you, O you of little faith?”

And don’t prove the devil right. Don’t sell everything in exchange for your own skin. It’s a bad bargain, and you will lose it anyway.

“What shall it profit a man if he corner the market on eggs and toilet paper, and lose his own soul?”

The fact is this: One day – maybe sooner, maybe later – you are going to stand before your Maker. He has given you one talent, and maybe more. But one that he has given you is your life, like a tiny flower, on this earth for a little while.

How did you use that gift? In love and service, in quiet and calm, resting in him, magnifying the Lord Jesus in your body?

Or did you bury it in exchange for your own skin? Do you die alone surrounded by all the eggs and all the toilet paper and all the cartons of milk?

It’s a metaphor, people! I think that love for our neighbor requires that we practice what we are told to practice. Shut yourselves in for the good of your neighbor.

But you don’t have to hoard. You don’t have to panic. You don’t have to fear.

Don’t sell your peace and don’t sell your dignity and don’t sell your birthright to save your own skin.

Let the peace of God rule your hearts and minds.

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Filed under Coronavirus, Providence

Here comes the sun

  2 But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings; and ye shall go forth, and grow up as calves of the stall.(Malachi 4:2)

This earth seems very dark indeed at times. The power and the ugliness of sin corrupts and rots the heart.

The oppression of the strong against the weak – the relentless assaults of the world, the flesh and the devil…

And the despair…does anyone care? Is anyone listening? Will this pain every end?

Will I ever get well? Will my friend talk to me again? Am I as ugly, unwanted and shameful as I so often feel in my heart?

Some wounds don’t ever seem to heal. Words are thrown about that cut to the heart. Parents let their kids know that they are unwanted, ugly, unclean. Spouses telling the ones they once vowed to love that they hate them. “You’re so stupid. You are worthless. If I threw you out, no one would have you…”

But we were created in honor. A little lower than the angels, crowned with glory! We were given dominion and the wonderful blessing of fruitfulness and life and love and unity: Be fruitful and multiply!

Sexuality was God’s way of delight and joy and spreading his kingdom throughout the world.

And how ugly it became! Instead of joy, now there is shame and guilt and pain. Heartache and loneliness. Anger, oppression.

It is an ugly, dark world and it so very often seems like the darkness will never end.

But Malachi describes the coming gospel – the Sun of Righteousness will arise with healing.

Here comes the sun, and I say it’s alright. With apologies to the Beetles.

Malachi was going for true light though, not wishful thinking. He wasn’t thinking of dreams of air, but the gospel of Christ. He had in mind the word of God made flesh and pouring out his life as an offering for sin.

All of your sin and guilt and shame was nailed to the cross, and instead of the curse you are restored to glory and honor in him. Here comes the sun!

And when the gospel is proclaimed and believed, it is as if the clouds have broken open, the first glimpse of the glorious day is seen from afar and we know…

We KNOW…

Here comes the sun. The Sun of righteousness is coming, and healing is coming with him. We know that because we have already glimpsed it. There is already hope there; we see the beginnings of a new life; a new way of thinking. So we can endure the remainder of the night, for the Sun is coming!

So let’s quit walking in darkness. Let’s quit walking as dead men who have no light, stumbling over the obstacles as blind men.

Awake, you who sleep, and Christ will give you light.

Healing is coming, dear ones! The broken heart will heal. The body will heal. The words that tore your soul will heal. Your tears will be wiped away. The scars will be wiped away. The soul will be restored, new and whole and light as air, freed from the muck and mire of sin and shame, filled with goodness and righteousness and truth.

And the filth that festers and grows in darkness will be flushed away when the Sun arises.

And we will walk again. We will rise up with new wings as eagles, filled with the Spirit of Christ, pure again with beauty and glory and honor!

Take heart, dear ones. Here comes the Sun!

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Filed under Gospel, Hope, Light

God Sees

When the church was at its lowest point; when Israel was in hard bondage in Egypt; when they had no strength, no future, no hope…

We read this:

24 So God heard their groaning, and God remembered His covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob.

25 And God looked upon the children of Israel, and God acknowledged them.(Exo 2:24-25)

God uses our language to speak to us. He desires to impress upon us that he always hears the cries of his people. How can an infinite, almighty, everywhere-present God communicate to us?

We are finite, complex, multi-faceted, creatures of space and time. And God is none of those things.

So how does he speak to us? He uses our words. Eventually the word of God would become flesh, condescending to us so that we might know God. Eventually, that word, our Lord Jesus, would come and be the mediator of the covenant – fulfilling it all in our place. Our sins are put away in him that we might know God.

But until that day, God will speak by analogy.

He hears our groaning. Our pain rises to him. He who knew no sin and no oppression and no suffering hears the groans of his people.

He remembers. He doesn’t forget, but he does remember. He “brings to mind” what he promises. He will never forget his word for he cannot lie. But there are certainly times when it appears as if he hides his face from us.. But take heart. He has not forgotten his covenant. The Seed has crushed the head of the Serpent. Whoever calls upon the name of the Lord Jesus will be saved, for God remembers his covenant.

He looks with compassion – it is far more than simply seeing. He sees with compassion; he enters into our space and time and sees our afflictions. He does not delight in our suffering, although it is the just consequence of sin. But where sin abounded, grace super-abounded! He delivers us from all of our oppressors and afflictions because he looks upon us.

And he knows us. He knows us intimately. He loves us with everlasting, eternal, unbreakable love in Jesus Christ. We know this, not because we feel it in our hearts, but because he tells us. Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.

And when he speaks he cannot lie. He doesn’t change his mind. There is not a secret corner of our soul that he doesn’t know, for he knows his people intimately. He knows us and he gives us eternal life, for it is his desire that we know him.

Jesus said, “And this is eternal life, that they might know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent.”

When you lie awake at night recounting all of your sins, tossing in your bed; when you wonder about your life – am I in sin? Does God really love me? Am I really a believer? Am I truly one of God’s children?

Remember this – God hears you, he remembers his promise, he sees you, and he knows you.

It doesn’t feel like that all the time. In fact, in this valley of tears called life there seems to be more weeping and sighing than laughter.

We sigh and groan because of oppression. We cry out because of illness and pain. We lift our voices up to heaven because of sin and misery. And we sigh because we are not yet home and long for the appearing of our Lord Jesus.

And yet, he has promised to prepare a place for us. And he will wipe away all tears because he hears our groaning. He will take away the curse, for he remembers his covenant. He will cast death and hell into the lake of fire, because he looks upon our affliction. And he will dwell with us forever and be our God, and we will be his people – for he knows us.

That is truly something to be thankful for.

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Filed under Gospel, Hope

How does one classify a day?

How does one classify a day?

Was this a good day?

Was this a rough day?

It was definitely a challenging day. We are exhausted; at the end of our ropes, it would seem. I staggered into the room this morning discouraged and so very, very tired.

And the morning was a challenge.

Loud family conferences in Spanish across the curtain. The psychiatrist did a psych eval on our roommate, knowing that we were in the same room. It was loud.

And then the jackhammers. Yes, Really. Some sort of construction is going on that involves jackhammers.

it doesn’t seem very conducive to healing and i said as much…

And then the afternoon seemed to calm. I know all of the prayers going up and the Lord blessed us with a few hours of peace.

Her afternoon sessions went well, but she was exhausted. Anxiety, neurological damage, nausea and jackhammers don’t make the greatest mix.

I was eating dinner with my wife and said, “A rough day.”

She said, “Yes. But a different rough than yesterday…”

I prayed with them, and said goodnight. I sleep in an RV down the street. I gathered my things and put on my back-pack.

“Papa?” She said.

“Yes, my sweet one…” I said.

She got tears in her eyes. “I love you so, so, so much,”

Then I got tears.

I stretched out my hands. “This much?”

She said, “Much, much more…”

All in all, I think that makes it a pretty good day.

When the rope is at the end, God delights in giving you more. When you have no more strength, Jesus gives what you need.

When your soul is dry and dusty as a desert, the Holy Spirit refreshes with cool, clean water.

It has something to do with eagles, but that will wait until next time.

I think that makes it a pretty good day.

Thanks for the prayers, friends.

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The Faith once delivered…

Today was tough. She is becoming more and more awake and alert, which means she is more and more aware of what has happened. That is tough.

She started rehab evaluations today, so we saw the extent of the damage. We don’t know how much will be permanent. No one does. That is tough, seeing the damage, knowing the names of the damage.

And my thoughts fly everywhere. My emotions fly everywhere. I didn’t sleep. I feel weak and foolish. I feel angry and I don’t know who to be angry with. I don’t know if she will laugh like she used to or call me silly names like she used to or giggle hysterically at ridiculous puns like she used to.

I don’t know what will happen – and I cry out in words I can’t form. I scream in exhaustion and somewhere the words I learned as a child come into my mind and in the whirlwind I have a place to put my feet.

“I believe in God the Father Almighty,”

Will the doctors be skilled? Will they know the secrets of the mind and body that they need to know? Will her eyes work right? Will she remember how to read and what words and numbers and colors mean?

“Maker of heaven and earth.”

Why is she suffering? Does anyone care? Is there redemption for her? Is there a plan in all of this? What is the purpose? Who’s in charge that I can cry out to?

“And in Jesus Christ, his only begotten Son, our lord…”

I don’t know how this will work out. I don’t know what her future will hold. I don’t know when our breaking point will be. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know…

Is anyone walking with her, with me, with us?

“Who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate…”

I wake at night with the words of Jacob in my head – “my days of the years of my life have been few and evil…” This cursed world seems brutal, short, ugly, harsh and I weary of life – and then, the words….the words…

“was crucified, dead and buried. He descended into hell.”

For us and for our salvation. His days were cut off brutally. He was abandoned by God so that she would never, ever be. He was forsaken so that she would never be alone in this cursed world, for he shepherds her and gathers her into his bosom….

And is there an end to this? Who will show us the way?

“The third day, he rose from the dead. He ascended into heaven, and sits at the right hand of God, the father almighty.

From thence, he shall come to judge the living and the dead.”

Life is often brutal, hard and short. Some suffer a little, some suffer tremendously. Some, like Lazarus, receive evil on this earth, while others receive good things.

But he is coming to judge the living and the dead. Every enemy will be destroyed. Every tongue stopped. Every virus destroyed, every twisted illness of Satan cast into the lake of fire.

And the last enemy to be destroyed is death.

And what until then? Will we see good in the land of the living? Will God’s presence go with us until the end?

“I believe in the Holy Spirit”

But I so often feel alone and frightened and like there is no one who understand, no one to lift this burden, no one to share this journey…

“The holy catholic church, the communion of saints”

And I see the light of God’s countenance shining through the saints around the world. I know your prayers and your gifts and your encouragements and I again lift my head up and know that God has not left us without a witness, but the unanimous voice of the true church in all the ages joins their tongue with ours crying out “Holy, Holy, Holy!”

“Yet I have reserved for myself 7,000 who have not bowed the knee to Baal.”

And these footsteps through this dark valley are not in vain, and even when I cry out in unbelief and fear, the shepherd does not let me go. He still cleanses; he still gathers. He still finds the lost lamb…

“The forgiveness of sins, the resurrection from the dead, and the life everlasting…”

Complete victory will be ours. We shall see him face to face. Even when we don’t feel like it. Even when he seems to have forgotten. Even when the blackness gets blacker. I remember the words.

And then she hugs me. And then she says, “Heyo, Papa.” And then she smiles.

And the light of Jesus shines again through the faith which was once delivered to the saints, and the smiles of his servants, and the voice of their witness crying out together in the furnace of affliction….”how long, Lord? How long?”

“Amen”

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