I Would Spare You Regret

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I know I've written about this sort of thing before, but it's been a few years, and I need the review myself.

I would spare you my regrets.

My greatest regrets have come from the times when I've traded away love, or joy, or obedience, or humility, or hope, or trust.  And what have I usually traded them for?

Control.  The power to make something unpleasant stop, or to make something pleasant start.  

But as hard as it is for us to believe in the midst of painful, scary, or frustrating situations, the fact is that the fruits and gifts of the Spirit are worth infinitely more than control (or the illusion of control).

Love, obedience, joy and all the rest... these were purchased for us at the cost of the unimaginable agonies of Calvary. What will you and I trade those things for? How cheaply will you and I sell them off today... maybe even this hour?

God forbid!

Whenever you are reading this, please stop and pray.  Thank the Lord for His peace, love, hope, joy, and all the rest.  And prayerfully determine, by His grace, that in this hour you will not trade away so cheaply what He purchased with His blood.  Purpose not to attempt this in your own strength (that's impossible), but to be mindful of what's at stake, and to prayerfully cling to Him in whatever the hour may bring.

And then, the next hour, do it again by His grace.

The following suggestion will not apply to everyone. But in my own case I've found it helpful to install an app* on my phone that makes a little noise at the top of every hour. (I have it set not to disturb me during sleeping hours.) I use that little noise as a reminder to thank the Lord for the previous hour, and to confess any sins committed. I acknowledge His lordship over the coming hour, and my responsibility to honor and obey Him in it.  And so, when I fall into bed at the end of the day, I don't find myself struggling to orient my heart to Him, as I would if I'd ignored Him all day in favor of pursuing my own agendas.

And I come to Him without regrets.

I emphatically do NOT recommend such hourly reminders for anyone who would find them unpleasant. No one likes to be nagged. But if such a reminder would be a pleasure and a help to your heart, as it is to mine, then go for it!

But whatever you do, don't trade away priceless gifts for things which will only leave you sorry.

*There are many such apps available.  This happens to be the one I use.

I Can Do What Things?

English: Saint paul arrested (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The great Apostle Paul said, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

So why didn't he pray up an earthquake to rescue himself from prison every time he was in there, like the one that rescued him and Silas in Philippi?

Why didn't he power his way out of floggings and stonings?

Why didn't he just keep those ships afloat instead of suffering shipwreck two times?

Why didn't he pull together a slick presentation that wowed everybody's socks off and made everybody fawn over him, instead of being slandered, beaten, hated, and drummed out of town all the time?

C'mon, Paul, why didn't you do those things?  Don't you know what you wrote?  Don't you know "all things" means ALL THINGS?  You should be healthy, wealthy, and loved everywhere you go!

You should be enjoying your best life now!

But what if "all things" doesn't mean "everything we want?"  Everything we think is best?

Does "all" always mean "Anything in the universe," or does God say "all" within pre-defined parameters?

When I took my little kids to the store and (on rare occasions) pointed to the candy display and said, "Pick whatever you want," was I inviting them to rush away to the sporting goods section and pick out a bike?  Of course not!

What are our parameters?  What are the limits of God's "all?"

Paul knew what God's power in his life was for.

I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me (Php 4:11-13).

Paul knew that God's power was there to enable him to suffer well.  He also knew that God's power was there to enable him to receive God's pleasant gifts unselfishly, and to use them for ministry rather than for his own luxury.

And where did he get this perspective?  Do you remember what God promised when He told Ananias about His decision to save Paul and use him for gospel ministry?

"I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.” (Acts 9:16)

"Well that's all well and good for Paul," you may say, "but God never said anything like that to me!"

Didn't he?  Have you ever read Luke 6:20-36?  Were His disciples lying to the suffering Christians in Acts 14:22?

Jesus probably hasn't told any of us what we're going to suffer, but He has promised us that we will suffer (John 16:33).

So if "all things" doesn't mean delivering ourselves from suffering, then what good is it?

It means that whatever God has put in your life, whether suffering or pleasure, He will enable you to turn both of these temporary things into eternal treasures as you endure or enjoy them with contentment.

"I have learned to be content in all circumstances...I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Christian power doesn't come by rebuking so-called "demons of whatever I don't like" (which we'd better be cautious about doing anyway, Jude 1:8-10).  It doesn't come by "naming it and claiming it" (2 Co 12:8-9).  

Christian power comes through the immovable strength of contentment in Christ Himself.  Contentment, in fact, is nothing more than the peace which comes from faith in a good and loving God who will "work all things (including suffering) together for the good of those who love Him" (Rom 8:28).

Contentment strengthened Paul to go back to minister in places where his life was threatened.

Contentment strengthened Paul to sit in a dank, filthy prison, chained to guards night and day, with his back lacerated by brutal whippings, and to write epistles which overflowed with love, praise, and joy.  And every time we read Paul's epistles, we who love God are still receiving the promised "good" which God brought from those incredible sufferings.

Will you pray for the faith-filled contentment which is the only thing that will empower you to love and serve and praise and rejoice in the midst of your tears and tiredness?

Godliness with contentment is great gain indeed (1 Tim 6:6).

A Basic Rule for Prayer and Peace

I know that I often write too much, go too deep, turn people away by long treatises.

I won’t do that today.  Instead, I’ll just tell you briefly how I’m learning to pray in a way that brings peace.  If you’ve read my previous series on prayer, you’ll recognize that today’s entry is not a summary, but a perfect fit with what I’ve written before.

A Basic Rule for Prayer

Pray for eternally important end results most of all, but don’t pray for God to use particular methods to achieve that end.  You know the “prayer about methods” that I’m warning against.  It’s the prayer that tells God not to allow anything to “go wrong” as we define it.  “Don’t let life hurt me or my loved ones.”  If that’s your prayer, STOP IT. Or at least offer your request the way Jesus Himself did, "Nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done."

You can pray for godly ends with absolute confidence, because you know that those are God's will.  But face it, you do not know the best means for Him to use in any given person's life.  If you acknowledge that fact, and truly trust God to know best, then you can be prepared to joyfully cooperate with Him even when He brings pain, suffering, deprivation, or disappointment into your life or the life of a loved one.  

And because your prayer priority is for a closer walk with God by grace, evidenced by the fruit of the Spirit, you will know what "cooperating with Him" will look like.  It will look like drawing close to Him, peacefully submitting to Him, and cultivating the Fruit in your life and in your relationships with others.  This is a peaceful life.

But if you insist on telling God how to do His job, you will inevitably be disappointed (and probably angry) when He insists on continuing to be God instead of deferring that role to you.  You will panic when He makes the “mistake” of bringing suffering into your life or your loved ones' lives, and will feel that you have to take matters into your own more capable and knowledgeable hands.

 

This is a faithless and chaotic life.

Trust Him.  Agree with Him about the Big Picture, the top priorities.  Then trust Him to know how to bring them about in the way He knows best.  The God who planned Calvary knows how to redeem suffering to bring about ultimate good.

Trust Him, leave it to Him, cooperate with Him, love Him, love your neighbor.  Know peace.

How to Have a "Good News Day" - Part 1

Photo by Marcelo Terraza

How to Have a “Good News” Day

Part 1

Laying the Foundation

It’s a bad habit of mine to expend a lot of time and make a lot of compromises in order to get what I call a “good day.”  You know the kind of day I’m talking about … all pleasantness, few responsibilities (at least, few that I can’t ignore), and plenty of enjoyable things to do.  Plus, of course, having everyone around me cooperate with my selfish plans.

Oops.

As you can imagine, my “good day” plans get smashed rather often.  And I tend to not be pleased about it.

What’s the solution?  Should I struggle to get more control over those around me, so I can force my plans on them?  But what about people and circumstances I can’t control?

Maybe I should just give up in cynical despair.  If I can’t give myself a good day, and God doesn’t seem to be bending over backwards to make life a bed of roses for me, what’s there to hope for?

Ghastly, isn’t it?  Yet I’d have to say that most of my adult life has swung between those two options.  Godless, self-centered, unloving, miserable options.  Sure, the ugliness has slowly gotten less pronounced as God has worked on my heart these past few years, but a lot of this nonsense has remained in my heart.

But, just within the past few days, I’ve been getting acquainted with an exciting new option.

What if I trade in my “plans for a good day,” not taking cynicism in exchange, but rather choosing instead to make plans for a “Good News day?”

What is a Good News Day?

If you’ve spent much time around Christianity, you probably know that the word “Gospel” is taken from the Greek for “Good News.”  And the more I learn about the Gospel and how it relates not just to salvation but to everyday life, the more I realize that I need to aim for Good News Days every day.

Good days, by my selfish definition, are often impossible.  Please bear with me as I explain...not for the sake of “complaining about my problems,” but just so that you, dear reader, won’t think I’m talking to you from my castle in the sky.  

My day-to-day life is complicated by such family funzies as Asperger’s Syndrome, full-blown autism, bipolar disorder, the teenage hormones of three boys, and all the ordinary challenges of family life.  One of my teens has been in a really bad state of rebellion lately, and has been getting in lots of trouble at school.  My husband’s job requires lots of odd hours on phone conferences with people halfway around the world, and frequent trips that last for weeks at a time.

To top it off, I deal with chronic back pain and occasionally recurring cardiac pain (despite being on daily cardiac meds since a heart attack in 2004).  Years and years of severe internal problems finally culminated in major surgery in November of 2011, which (thank the Lord) cleared up a lot of problems, but some pain still recurs.

So no, no ivory tower here.   And few entirely “good” days.

But every day could have been a Good News day, if I had only known.  Lately I’ve been having them.  And I know I always can have them.  Not because I’ve become an overnight expert in some divine secret, but because God gives a continuing supply of the good news freely to anyone who understands and believes in its simplicity.

A Good News Day is a day when the Gospel shapes my beliefs, my hopes, my plans, my actions, my interactions, and how I deal with sins and failures (both my own sins and those of others that impact me).

I’m finding that Good News days can be full of bad things, painful things, disappointing things...even failure.  And yet, at the end when I look back at them, they’ve lost their sting.  What once would have beaten me down no longer has that kind of power.  (Which, now that I think about it, is an answer to my regular prayer that I wrote about here, based on 2 Cor. 4:8-11.  Thank You, Lord!)

Have I become a stronger person?  No, not really.  I’ve just found the inexhaustible power of the Good News.

How have I found it?  Well, for years I’ve been steeping myself in excellent books like Future Grace, Holiness By Grace, Transforming Grace, Because He Loves Me, Give Them Grace, and many more.  (Please get these books and savor them if you can!)  The glorious truths in these books have gone a long way towards helping me change my hindsight.  They have helped to heal many of my hurts, by teaching me to look back on them through the lens of Gospel truth.  This is true for long-ago hurts and hurts from just a moment ago.

But that is only half of what they were designed to teach me.  And because I only got that half, the retrospective half, I still lacked a lot of Gospel power.

I still have tended to PLAN and HOPE for “good days” (as selfishly defined), while only applying the Gospel to comfort myself if the “good day” didn’t happen.  

Without meaning to, I had lumped Gospel truth into the category of “consolation prize.”  I’d hoped to get the million bucks, and I’d tried my best, but I’d lost.  So I would gratefully (and a little ruefully) accept the parting gifts instead.  They were better than nothing.

Oh, how tragic it is when we fail to see the lavish gifts we’ve been given as the treasures they really are!

It’s time to start hoping and planning for Good News Days.  Such days are not second best, they are what it’s all about.  They are the days of gold, silver and precious stones that will survive the test of God’s purifying fire (1 Co. 3:11-15).

Let me say it again:

A Good News Day is a day when the Gospel shapes my beliefs, my hopes, my plans, my actions, my interactions, and how I deal with sins and failures (both my own sins and those of others that impact me).

In future entries we’ll look at how we can plan and hope for such days, how we can live them, and what they might look like.  

Lost in Translation

Photo by juliaf

Just yesterday a gunman murdered 20 kindergartners and 6 school staff members in Newtown, Connecticut.  I spent yesterday buried in the news, numb with the shock of it all.

Yet today I am working on translating and perfecting my presentation of Christmas Carols in American Sign Language, so I can be ready for church tomorrow.  I believe in the true Christmas...one that has nothing to do with trees, elves, white bearded men in red suits, or greed, so I'm dealing with songs that celebrate the incarnation of God Himself.

It's been hard, hard work.  Not just because of the struggles that always come with interpreting from one language to another.  That's a challenge I actually enjoy.  Usually (for example), fitting the convoluted, implied-subject, passive-descriptive imperative form found in the single line, "Veiled in flesh the Godhead see" into ASL grammar within the confines of artistic style and musical speed...well, I would normally relish it. I don't actually know the right grammatical terms for all of it, but I can feel it in my heart, and I love to coax it out and watch it dance on my fingers.

Not this time.  Not with a soul that is stunned by the horror of yesterday.

It's so tempting to say that yesterday threw Christmas into the dust, that the bleating of manger-side sheep is drowned out by gunfire, that the cries of labor pains pale next to cries of terror and death, that the message of peace on earth has been disproven.  Rendered trite.  Annulled.

But, of course, the millennia that have passed since Christ's birth have been full of horrors.  If Christ's coming to earth could have been rendered meaningless, it would have happened long before now.

But how can we sing "Peace on Earth, and mercy mild" so soon after Newtown?  Can we only sing it wishfully, wistfully, as a prayer for what we hope will happen someday?

How can the truth of these songs not get lost in translation when "the real state of things" is interpreted to us by the hands of madmen?

How can "Peace on Earth" be communicated in a world like ours?  The first step is to remember that the song of the angels was not about peace.

It was about the Prince of Peace.

The angels didn't sing a sermon that told people how they ought to live peacefully.  They sang an announcement of the One who was, and is, Peace Incarnate.

Incarnation is not the same as interpretation.  Some things can't be expressed in language.  They have to become flesh and blood.

"The Word became flesh and dwelt among us..."  (John 1:14).

Humanity has tried countless ways to interpret the message of peace, but unlike any other communication, this one cannot truly be received without receiving the Messenger.

Oh, it is undeniably true that there are many good, peaceful people who do not know Christ.  They are as good as they are by the grace of God, whether they know it or not.  If He did not bestow such "common grace," Newtown would happen every day.  There is not a single good person on the planet; not one who, if left to his or her own devices, wouldn't become a horror (Isa 53:6, Isa 64:6, Jer 17:9, Mark 10:18, Rom 3:10).  So God gives a common form of goodness with the same mercy that makes Him send rain on both the just and the unjust (Matt 5:45).   It's a providence largely ignored.  It's also a providence that will someday be withdrawn, if I understand 2 Thess 2:7 correctly.

But every human being, even those with a measure of sweetness, kindness, and goodness, needs to be saved from their own sin.

This is the kind of message that the religious elite of Jesus' times could not stand.  The kind that made their rage murderous against the most innocent one who ever walked.  Think of it... a perfectly innocent adult, telling the religious elite that they needed to repent and turn to Him so they could be saved.  They wanted Him dead...and temporarily got their wish.

The world hates that message today, too.  Oh, they believe that some people need to be saved, for sure.  But they bristle at the thought that they themselves need to be saved from the evil within themselves, and that only Christ can do that.  They can't imagine that they could be capable of truly heinous acts, even though history is full of people who, under the right (wrong?) circumstances, did things they never thought themselves capable of.

If they're not a Hitler or a Klebold or a Breivik or a Lanza, they're just fine, thank you.

They want humanity to find a workable interpretation of the message of peace, but without the incarnation of the Prince of Peace in their own hearts.

And peace gets lost in the translation.  Because without Christ Himself... trusted, worshiped, indwelling... there is no power for peace with God (the ultimate peace) or for the truest peace with neighbors.

But with Him, everything is possible.  And there can be no doubt...if Christ had sat enthroned in the heart of Adam Lanza, conforming him to ever-increasing Christlikeness, including love of neighbor, love of enemies, peace, joy, righteousness...the Newtown Massacre would never have happened.  Christ's Spirit inside makes that much difference.

And so I must Sign the songs of incarnation tomorrow with a heart full of hope, and joy, and peace.  Because the message has not been annulled, nor can it ever be, as long as The Eternal One lives in people's hearts.

Does He live in your heart by repentant faith?



Isaiah 9:6 (ESV)
For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given;
and the government shall be upon his shoulder,
and his name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.


John 14:27 (ESV)
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. 




1 Thessalonians 5:23-24 (ESV)
Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely, and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it.

The Burden-Bearer

Image via Wikipedia

 

 

Hannah Whitall Smith (1832-1911)writes in

The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life:

 

 

 

Most Christians are like a man who was toiling along the road, bending under a heavy burden, when a wagon overtook him, and the driver kindly offered to help him on his journey. He joyfully accepted the offer, but when seated, continued to bend beneath his burden, which he still kept on his shoulders.

"Why do you not lay down your burden?" asked the kind-hearted driver.

"Oh!" replied the man, "I feel that it is almost too much to ask you to carry me, and I could not think of letting you carry my burden too."

And so Christians, who have given themselves into the care and keeping of the Lord Jesus, still continue to bend beneath the weight of their burden, and often go weary and heavy-laden throughout the whole length of their journey.

Since God carries me, He carries my burdens, too.  I may still feel the weight on my shoulders, but underneath are the everlasting arms (Deut. 33:27).

The question is, what do I do with the weight on my shoulders if I still feel it?

It’s been a while since I read The Christian’s Secret, so perhaps I need to read it again.  But it’s certainly too late to do that tonight, and I would like to throw this open and get some insights from all of you.  Not that I’m feeling particularly burdened by anything tonight (I’m not), but I often DO carry around burdens that I need to entrust more fully to His care.

What do you do in such cases?  Let’s get some good discussion going here!

(You can read The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life online for FREE here!)

Come and Rest

To every toiling, heavy-laden sinner, Jesus says, “Come to me and rest.”  But there are many toiling, heavy-laden believers, too.  For them this same invitation is meant.  It is not, “Go, labor on,” as perhaps you imagine.  On the contrary, it is stop, turn back, “Come to me and rest.”  Never, never did Christ send a heavy laden one to work; never, never did He send a hungry one, a weary one, a sick or sorrowing one, away on any service.  For such the Bible only says, “Come, come, come.”

Hudson Taylor

I recently had the privilege of reading Jennifer’s wonderful post about the Sabbath on the Reformed Sheology website, and it spoke to my heart in a very relevant way.  Go ahead on over and read it, and then come back here, okay?  I’ll wait for you.

You’re back?  Good. 

I loved the way Jennifer said,

“We often only consider [the Sabbath] question in terms of two choices: Saturday or Sunday. But I believe there is a third option, one that we almost never even consider, because we are too busy focusing on the wrong thing. You see, I believe God changed the Sabbath from a day to a Person. That's right: God changed the Sabbath from Saturday to Jesus Christ.” (Col. 2:16-17)

Christ is our rest!

While Jennifer focused on “resting” in Christ as it relates to our salvation, I felt it more deeply as it relates to our daily walk.  You see, while I have grappled with many deep theological issues, and I have come to a richer faith in my mind, my heart is still playing catch-up.  And though it has come a long way, it still knows far too little rest. 

I worry.

I fuss.

I fret.

I fume.

And what’s more, I feel proud of those things.  Not consciously, of course.  But when I start to try to rest in Christ, I immediately accuse myself of being irresponsible and lackadaisical.  And that must mean that I consider all of my worrying and fretting and fuming to be responsible behavior.

Can you see me?  I’m clunking the heel of my hand against my forehead.  DUH!

Jesus promised that those who come to Him would find rest (Matt. 11:28).  He told us not to worry, because our worrying is faithless and futile (Matt. 6:25-34).  I’ve known those verses since I was a little girl.

I’ve known them in my head, that is.  But like the men on the road to Emmaus, I am foolish and slow of heart (Luke 24:25).

It’s beginning to dawn on me that, not only am I commanded to stop worrying, but I’m given permission to be at rest!

That’s a cool thought, because I tend to “stress out” about commands, even the command to stop worrying!  But permission to be at rest…that sounds lovely, doesn’t it?

“It’s okay, Betsy,” my Father reassures me.  “I can run the universe without your help.”

My heart balks.  “But Lord, You have work for me to do, I know it!  I can’t just spend the rest of my earthly life on spiritual vacation, can I?”

“No,” He reminds me.  “I gave you a light and easy yoke, not a light and easy beach umbrella.  Yokes are for working.  But it’s My yoke.  I bear most of the weight.  And if you want to have the strength to carry your end, you’ll need to have My joy for your strength (Neh. 8:10).  Come to Me, take My yoke, and I will give you rest!” 

Wow.  I may have heard this sort of thing before, but it never sank in.  It couldn’t sink in, because I heard it as a call to frivolity.

The funny thing is, I tend to do far too little work!  I fear frivolity…and yet I engage in far too much of it.  Why?  Because the yoke I’ve been contemplating has not been easy, nor has the burden looked light. 

I know I need to take life’s responsibilities seriously, and I do so in the form of reading and writing and studying.  But in the actual business of physical working, while I know I need to be serious, I usually back away.  What with chronic back pain and generally low physical stamina, all physical work is daunting.  And when “I need to” meets “I can’t,” or even “I don’t think I can,” the result is paralysis.  And escapism. 

But though my physical problems are real and have an impact, most of my burden is not physical.  Most of it is mental and emotional.  And that’s a burden I’m not supposed to be carrying (Ps. 55:22).

If I had the Sabbath in my heart…the restfulness of God’s Spirit (Ps. 37:7), the joy of the Lord (Php. 4:4), the peace of God which is to rule in our hearts (Col. 3:15) and which surpasses understanding (Php. 4:7)…if I had all of those things, how much more readily could I face the demands of life?  How many of them could I actually meet?

I need more of that kind of Sabbath!

Can any of you out there relate?

(John Piper preached a wonderful sermon called, “Are You Humble Enough To Be Carefree?”  It shows clearly how much pride factors in to our insistence on worrying.  I hope you’ll check it out.)

 

No Good Thing

In me (that is, in my flesh) dwelleth no good thing.  (Rom. 7:18 KJV)

Oh how often I get stark reminders of this reality!  I know better than to trust in my own resources, but I do it anyway.  And every time I do it, I end up in the same spiritual swamp…complete with noxious fumes and disgusting slime.  Not to mention predators lurking to take a bite out of me at any moment.

Yes, I’m a believer (and yes, I believe that Romans 7 refers to a pre-conversion experience), but I am convinced that this statement is still true of believers as well. 

In my flesh dwells no good thing.

Do you know the feeling?  That sinking in your gut when you realize you’ve “gone and done it again?”  Do you know that whenever you try to walk in the flesh, the result is inevitably disastrous?

Or do you still have confidence in the flesh?  Do you still think you only need Christ to bail you out in emergencies, because you believe you’re doing fine on your own the rest of the time?

“For we are the circumcision” (i.e. we are those who are truly set apart for Christ), “who worship God in the Spirit, rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the flesh” (Php 3:3).

So how is it that I keep putting confidence in the flesh again? 

Oh, and by the way, notice the word “the” in Php 3:3.  It doesn’t say, “My flesh,” it says, “The flesh.”  Not only am I not to rest my hope on my own resources, but I’m not to rest it on any other human sources either. 

Why?  Partly because people will let me down, true.  But that’s not the deepest reason.  The stark reality is this:  we either trust in flesh or in God.  To the extent that we do one, we will not do the other.

Thus says the LORD: "Cursed is the man who trusts in man, and makes flesh his strength, whose heart departs from the LORD.”
Jer 17:5

So how do we know when we’re putting confidence in the flesh?

1.  When the failures of the flesh steal our hope, our peace, or our joy.

Do your own failures make you feel hopeless?  Do you lose your peace and joy when other people fail you?  Do you get angry at yourself or others for not straightening up, not making the flesh better?  I know I do, all the time.  And that’s a sure sign that my hope was in the flesh. 

Picture it this way.  Suppose you were planning a pool party, and you invite lots of friends over for a fun day of swimming.  The day of the party ends up being overcast and rainy, but that doesn’t dampen your plans one bit.  Why?  Because it’s an indoor pool.  Since your hope didn’t depend on the weather, the weather couldn’t spoil anything for you.

By the same token, our hope, peace, and joy can’t be stolen when man’s abilities, efforts, or resources fail us…if our confidence was in God and not the flesh.  People and circumstances can disappoint, grieve, and hurt us, but they can’t take away our God-given spiritual blessings in the process. 

If the world didn’t give it to us, then the world can’t take it away.

2.  We know we are putting confidence in the flesh when we focus on reforming the flesh rather than crucifying it.

The Bible does not teach us to reform our flesh, to improve it, to make it shape up and get right.  No, what God tells us to do is crucify the flesh (Gal. 5:24), put it to death (Col. 3:5), consider it dead (Rom. 6:11), and refuse to “walk in it” (Gal. 5:16).

This doesn’t refer to destroying or abusing our bodies, as some ascetics and legalists do.  The “flesh” referred to here is our sinful nature which pervades every part of our being. 

Geese have a goosy nature that pervades their goosy flesh.  It makes their bodies honk, swim, and fly south in the winter. 

Dogs have a doggy nature that makes their doggy flesh bark, their doggy tails wag, and their doggy noses intrude in strange places.

Sinners have a sinful nature that makes their sinful flesh…well…sin.  We aren’t defined as sinners because we commit sins.  We commit sins because we have sinful natures.  It’s who we are.  It’s what we do.

Attempts at reformation are based on confidence.  If you keep trying to reform an addict, it’s because you believe there’s some glimmer of hope.  If you give up on them, it’s because all hope is gone (as far as you’re concerned.)  In the same way, if we’re busy trying to reform our flesh, that means we’re still putting confidence in it.  We ought to be putting nails in it (figuratively speaking, of course)!

I confess that, for most of my life, that sort of talk sounded like nonsense to me.  Because I did not truly have the Spirit of God dwelling within me, I could make no sense of the notion of choosing to walk in Him rather than in the flesh.  The flesh was all I had!  To choose not to walk in it left me with a vacuum.  You might as well tell me to walk in nothing at all.  It just didn’t work.

But praise God, His Spirit now lives in me, and I have a choice I did not have before.  My flesh has nothing good in it, and whenever I choose to walk in the flesh, I am instantly as miserable a sinner as I ever was.  But I don’t have to walk in the flesh any more! 

Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.
(2Co 3:17)

What a wonderful freedom!  Why do I ever turn my back on it?

One of the hallmarks of a true believer is that they will not continue in sin (Rom. 6:2).  They will sometimes fall, but they will miss their Beloved too much to stay in the muck.  And their return to Him does not come as a result of self-reformation.  It happens because of the genuine presence of the Holy Spirit of Christ who indwells them, and in Whom they can find their way (John 14:6).

3.  We know we are putting confidence in the flesh when we feel prideful about anything.

Pride is giving the flesh more credit than it’s due.  ‘Nuff said.

4.  We know we are putting confidence in the flesh when we put people on pedestals.

Hero worship.  Idolizing people.  Believing that the perfect mate would make our lives perfect bliss.  Believing that there’s someone on this planet we just can’t live without.  Even idolizing the ideal “self” that we hope to become someday.  It’s all confidence in the flesh.

Ever see someone so “in love” that they actually worship the other person?  Ever been there yourself? 

While it’s great to appreciate the good in others, it’s wrong to put our hope, our peace, our joy in their flesh.  If there’s good in anyone, appreciate it and bless their Maker for it.  Keep your hope, peace, and joy in Him, and they’ll be safe even when mere mortals let us down.

5.  We know we are putting confidence in the flesh whenever we sin in any way.

The Spirit says, “Come to Christ to find the abundant life.”  The flesh says, “Forget Christ.  Pamper me with sin to find the abundant life.” 

We’ll follow the one we have confidence in.  Period.

In my flesh, and in yours, dwells no good thing.

But the Bible doesn’t always use the phrase “no good thing” in a negative way.  Let’s close with the following promise:

For the LORD God is a sun and shield; the LORD will give grace and glory; no good thing will He withhold from those who walk uprightly.
(Ps. 84:11)

There's no need to be discouraged about the "no good thing" of Rom. 7:18, when we have the “no good thing” of Ps. 84:11!

May we rest our confidence fully upon the One who is our sun, our shield, our grace, and our glory!

God-Seasoned Tears

Thank You, Lord, that my tears taste different now.

They used to taste of

bitter despairacid rage
bloodied pride
choking hopelessness
acrid loneliness
fevered hatred
sulfurous distrust
cruel accusation
bilious self-pity.


You could have chosen just to numb the pain
But any old drug can do that.

You're no drug.


You could have kept pain away
Like a doting father who would spoil me until I got mushy and rank like an overripe peach.

You are a much better parent than that.


I could not have loved You the way I do now, if you had done either of those things. How would You have been better than what Earth can offer?

But You...

Only You could do this.

You taught me that tears can taste like

fountains of hope
oceans of mercy
wellsprings of love
streams of refreshment
brooks of camaraderie
rivers of trust
seas of acceptance
tidal waves of thanksgiving
floods of praise.

And they taste like...

Salt.

You have told us that we are the salt of the earth.

Perhaps we can only be salt
if our hearts have learned to shed
God-seasoned tears.

Betsy Markman

(Photo from Stock.xchng by Fishmonk)

Hope and Rest

So the evening and the morning were the sixth day. And on the seventh day God ended His work which He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had done. (Gen. 1:31, 2:2)

Spurgeon observes from the Creation account: "Not first the light, and after that the dark; but first the dark, and after that the light." God saw that each night would end in daylight, and that the end of all the nights and all the days would be the eternal day in which there can be no darkness at all. This is what St. John saw: 'There shall be no night there, for the Lord God giveth them light"' (Rev_22:5).

What a beautiful picture this is of Christian hope!

In the theater, a play ends with the final fall of the curtain. But in the instructive imagery of Genesis Chapter 1, the Creation Play ends with news of a rising, and that which rises is far more than a curtain. It is nothing less that the sun itself, rejoicing to pour out its light onto a lovely Sabbath of rest. Rest, after all, isn't really possible without hope, and that's why God speaks of the sun rising into the Sabbath.

What does this mean to me on a frustrating Monday like the one I've just had? What does it mean to you?

For thus says the Lord GOD, the Holy One of Israel: "In returning and rest you shall be saved; In quietness and confidence shall be your strength." (Isa 30:15)

Resting is part of our salvation. We often talk of "resting in the finished work of Christ" for our salvation, but is there more to it than that?

Henry Drummond says, "Rest is not some holy feeling that comes upon us in church. It is a state of calm rising from a heart deeply and firmly established in God."

Boy, do we need that kind of rest!

Some people are easily touched by platitudes. A happy little saying can brighten their day quite easily. But many of us need more substance, especially when the problems of life have enough substance to overwhelm us!

What is the substance of our hope, our rest?

Eph. 2:14 tells us, "For He Himself is our peace." Sounds pretty substantive to me.

On a hectic day I don't get much comfort from the promise of a future peace that might not arrive until I die at 90 years old. If life continues to be as difficult during the second half as it was during the first (assuming I have a full lifetime ahead of me), then that future peace is too far ahead to do more than torment me, like a video of a flowing fountain would torment a parched man in the desert. I most definitely believe in that future peace, but I need peace and rest NOW.

I suppose if my faith were deeper I could get more comfort from that promise, and I congratulate those of you who have reached that point in your walk. I'm not there.

But there's really good news for folks like me. There's peace to be had now. I know because I've caught just glimpses, felt just touches, picked up the scent of it at times. But forgive me. I'm using the wrong pronoun. I shouldn't say, "It." I should say "Him."

He Himself is our peace.

Jesus said, "Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." (John 14:27) But we make a mistake if we picture Him with a package of peace in His hand, reaching out to give it to us. Yes, He gives us His peace, but He also IS our peace. He gives us Himself, and in Him we find all that we need...not just later, in Eternity, but in this life.

David said, "I would have lost heart, unless I had believed That I would see the goodness of the LORD In the land of the living." (Psa 27:13)

It's been a few years since I felt the kind of hopeless desperation that made me long for death, but I haven't forgotten it. That's not the sort of thing a person can forget. A message like the one I'm now writing would probably have made me furious if I'd read it then. If you're in such a desperate place, I can empathize.

When I was in that kind of relentless agony, I very nearly gave up on God. The only reason I didn't completely walk away from Him was because I couldn't. I was one of His sheep, and I could feel His grip on me even when I couldn't hold on to Him anymore.

And as angry and hopeless as I felt, I was so grateful for that iron hand holding me fast.

Looking back, I can see at least two tremendous blessings which came out of that time. I can attest to the fact that with God we may go through darkness first, but as Micah reminds us, "He will bring me forth to the light; I will see His righteousness." (Mic 7:9)

He will bring us forth to the light...even you, oh desperately hurting child of God.

He will.




(Next: What blessings came out of those terrible times I spoke of?)


(Photo taken by Betsy Markman in Colorado Springs, CO)