We've been told,
God has warned us,
Jesus is comin' soon. (Blind Willie Johnson)
I watched the blood moon last night. I don't know about your house, but over here, we've pretty much had a collective shrug at all the eschatological hubbub around this event. Like I tell my kids, "If anyone starts telling you that they've figured this thing out, run. Run fast. In the other direction." There's only one thing we know for sure. No man knows the hour. I have that on good authority.
But as I sat there that night and watched the shadow of the earth creep across the face of the moon, I couldn't help but think. Jesus IS going to come. There WILL BE a day when that happens. Until then, He orchestrates these beautiful lunar eclipses that demonstrate His glory and His majesty. I hope you didn't miss that as you watched.
A few years ago, Brett attended a conference on eschatology, in which seven different views of the end times were presented. Seven. Talk about a theological fun-house. Someone is distorting what's said in the scripture. The problem is...I'm just not sure which one. They were each, after all, arguing from the scriptures. You gotta give them credit for that.
John Piper recently wrote an article in which he exhorted his students not to be suckers--eschatological suckers. He pointed out that we all have a tendency to think that there are nothing but blue skies head, even though God has warned us, in the scriptures, of a coming final judgment.
Seems John Piper and Blind Willie are of the same mind on that point. I have to agree.
Where is the promise of His coming?
I don't want to be that sucker.
Still, there is another side to that coin. We can be suckers in another way, too. We can be suckers by getting sucked into much ado about blood moons. I don't want to be that sucker, either. I don't want that distraction.
I want to be a good wife, honoring and helping my husband.
I want to be a good mom, bringing up my kids in the fear and nurture of the Lord.
I want to be a contributing part of my church.
I want to work out my salvation in fear and trembling.
I want to be kind and tender-hearted and put away all anger, wrath, and malice.
I want to make it my aim to live a peaceful and quiet life.
I want to be transformed by the renewing of my mind.
I want to rejoice always, pray without ceasing, and give thanks in all things.
I want to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with my God.
I do not want to distracted, not even for a moment, by blood moons. I don't want to suspend any of the good things, things I know I'm told to do, to run to the hills. Blood moons shouldn't make me scoff; neither should they make me fear. Blood moons should make me worship the One who holds the world together by the word of His power.
We are salt and light. But some people track Jesus' return like NORAD tracks Santa on Christmas Eve. What a waste of the brief time that's been given to us. I suspect that while they're circling the wagons around their star charts and their 'prophets,' they are salt losing its saltiness; they are lights under a bushel.
(Pause here for a rant about John Hagee. John "I left my wife for the church secretary and I don't care" Hagee? Hagee's got a thing or two comin', none of which look like a crown of life. If Hagee's your hobby, you need a new hobby. And that's all I'm going to say on that point...)
Jesus did not come back the other night. No surprise there. Some of you are laughing that I even had to say that. On the other hand, some of you were seriously thinking about hunkering down.
I don't want to be a blue skies sucker.
I don't want to be a run-for-the-hills sucker.
I want to be the Church.
I want to be a salty preservative in a culture of death.
I want to be light in a dark place.
So let's keep on keepin' on, one foot in front of the other, loving God and living holy out in front of a watching and dying world. Let's live in such a way that our Lord receives us with, "Well done, Salt and Light. Enter into the joy of your Master."
Like a bride waiting for her groom, we'll be a church ready for You,
Every heart longing for her King, we sing,
Even so, come, Lord Jesus, come.*
*(Even So, Come by Jason Ingram, Chris Tomlin, Jess Cates, 2015)
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Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Thursday, September 24, 2015
Shout Your Abortions?
Shout your abortions?
Dear woman who has had an abortion,
If you had an abortion because your father failed to protect you, because he thought treating you 'like an adult' meant cutting you loose to do your own thing, because he abdicated his responsibility, because he'd rather be your 'friend' than your 'father,' because he insisted that confronting you would drive you away rather than bring you to safety,
or because he abandoned you, never knew you, abused you, or had better things to do or more important relationships to pursue, I am so sorry.
Please know that there is a better Father out there.
If you had an abortion because your church shamed you, rejected you, cast you aside, tossed you out, I am so sorry. Please know that there is a better church out there.
But be honest.
Did you give your father a chance to protect you?
Did you give your church a chance to support you?
Or, if you're really, really honest with yourself, down in that part of your heart where only you and God can see...
Were you proud?
Were you willful?
Rebellious?
Determined to have the quick fix?
Do you find that you have, not so much a compassion for women who have had abortions, as a solidarity with them?
Do you find that you want to lend your voice to the cacophony, rejoicing in this murderous, self-worshipping, God-rejecting mayhem?
Do you find that you try to civilize abortion by shifting the terms of the debate?
Do you find that you'd rather talk about a barrel full of red herrings (like government programs or blame-shifting or social 'justice'...) than the tiny soul who has inherent worth and is entitled to life?
That's right; that baby is more than just a tiny body with a beating heart. There's a soul there, a soul, and you have NO IDEA what you are dealing with. Or Whom.
Do you find a certain smugness for mincing pro-life and pro-birth? or 'yeah, but' attitudes that claim I can't have principles if I don't also have perfection?
Do you find it cathartic to shout your abortion?
Don't do this wicked thing. Please don't do it.
There is a way which seems right to a man, but its end is the way of death. Proverbs 14:12
You think your way leads to validation.
You think your way leads to freedom.
You think your way leads to life.
But it doesn't; it leads to death.
There is a way that leads to life.
There is a faithful and just Father who will forgive you and cleanse you from all unrighteousness, if you confess your sin to Him.
There is a Savior who became abortion and selfishness and rebellion on the Cross and absorbed all of God's wrath against those things, so that you could boldly approach the Throne of Grace.
There is a real body of bona fide believers who have received mercy and grace in their time of need, and they stand ready to be conduits of that same mercy and grace for you.
Do you know where the dignity is found in this debate?
Not amongst the shrieking divas shouting their abortions and waving hangers around like deviant keepsakes. Dignity is found in the sisterhood of saints who love much because they have been forgiven much.
Lay down your weapons and your arguments and your fight.
You will not win this one.
Neither your volume, nor your passion, nor your numbers will win this one.
This is not about winning.
This is about living.
You living.
Living with a forgiven past, a new heart, a fresh start, by way of a faithful Savior.
Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God?
Such were some of you. But you were washed; but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God.
I Corinthians 6:9,11
Now, that's something to shout about!
Dear woman who has had an abortion,
If you had an abortion because your father failed to protect you, because he thought treating you 'like an adult' meant cutting you loose to do your own thing, because he abdicated his responsibility, because he'd rather be your 'friend' than your 'father,' because he insisted that confronting you would drive you away rather than bring you to safety,
or because he abandoned you, never knew you, abused you, or had better things to do or more important relationships to pursue, I am so sorry.
Please know that there is a better Father out there.
If you had an abortion because your church shamed you, rejected you, cast you aside, tossed you out, I am so sorry. Please know that there is a better church out there.
But be honest.
Did you give your father a chance to protect you?
Did you give your church a chance to support you?
Or, if you're really, really honest with yourself, down in that part of your heart where only you and God can see...
Were you proud?
Were you willful?
Rebellious?
Determined to have the quick fix?
Do you find that you have, not so much a compassion for women who have had abortions, as a solidarity with them?
Do you find that you want to lend your voice to the cacophony, rejoicing in this murderous, self-worshipping, God-rejecting mayhem?
Do you find that you try to civilize abortion by shifting the terms of the debate?
Do you find that you'd rather talk about a barrel full of red herrings (like government programs or blame-shifting or social 'justice'...) than the tiny soul who has inherent worth and is entitled to life?
That's right; that baby is more than just a tiny body with a beating heart. There's a soul there, a soul, and you have NO IDEA what you are dealing with. Or Whom.
Do you find a certain smugness for mincing pro-life and pro-birth? or 'yeah, but' attitudes that claim I can't have principles if I don't also have perfection?
Do you find it cathartic to shout your abortion?
Don't do this wicked thing. Please don't do it.
There is a way which seems right to a man, but its end is the way of death. Proverbs 14:12
You think your way leads to validation.
You think your way leads to freedom.
You think your way leads to life.
But it doesn't; it leads to death.
There is a way that leads to life.
There is a faithful and just Father who will forgive you and cleanse you from all unrighteousness, if you confess your sin to Him.
There is a Savior who became abortion and selfishness and rebellion on the Cross and absorbed all of God's wrath against those things, so that you could boldly approach the Throne of Grace.
There is a real body of bona fide believers who have received mercy and grace in their time of need, and they stand ready to be conduits of that same mercy and grace for you.
Do you know where the dignity is found in this debate?
Not amongst the shrieking divas shouting their abortions and waving hangers around like deviant keepsakes. Dignity is found in the sisterhood of saints who love much because they have been forgiven much.
Lay down your weapons and your arguments and your fight.
You will not win this one.
Neither your volume, nor your passion, nor your numbers will win this one.
This is not about winning.
This is about living.
You living.
Living with a forgiven past, a new heart, a fresh start, by way of a faithful Savior.
Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God?
Such were some of you. But you were washed; but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God.
I Corinthians 6:9,11
Now, that's something to shout about!
Saturday, September 19, 2015
The Gospel of Psalm 121
I flagged the other night. I could feel it. Funny when sin comes upon you unsuspecting, crouching at your door. I was just puttering around the kitchen, and, whamo! there it was in my heart. It spread to my mind, and I was beginning to 'go there' where I shouldn't. It spread through my body, where I could feel my jaw tighten and my muscles clench.
Take every thought captive...
Master it, or it will master you...
It was a momentary stand on the precipice of sin, vanishing almost as quickly as it came. I fought it; I caught it--thanks only to the Holy Spirit. But it had come. I can't deny that. I don't mean to imply that me battling sin is somehow infrequent. It's just that this time was more like a weird out-of-body experience in which I was simultaneously fighting the battle and observing it.
The heart is desperately wicked...
Every inclination of the heart is only evil all the time...
Sin did not pounce on me from the outside. It was not lurking around the corner. The devil didn't make me do it. Sin came from inside my heart because that's where sin always comes from. I was nobody's victim. I didn't need therapy, counseling, or healing. I needed to repent.
I lift my eyes to the mountains. From where shall my help come?
Psalm 121, my favorite psalm, is a Song of Ascents. When the Jews made each of three annual, required pilgrimages to Jerusalem, they sang songs of ascent. And those mountains? We're inclined to read into the text that they were a source of help. But Ligon Duncan disagrees. Those mountains, which signified Jerusalem, were a menace. They were the reason the psalmist was crying for help in the first place. I have to agree.
But forget for a moment the physical dangers of the road. Forget the wild beasts. Forget the lawless men. Forget the blistering heat of the day or the terrifying darkness of the road at night. They were going to Jerusalem to meet the Lord.
If there's one area where the ancient Jew has the modern Christian licked--in spades--it would be the way he feared the Lord, as in, he was terrified. These were people intimately acquainted with what the Lord could do, not for them, but to them. It was part of their psyche because it was part of their history:
the earth opening up and swallowing people whole...
serpents biting and killing them...
fire consuming them...
plagues decimating them...
enemies dragging them off to captivity...
(For a more complete catalog of God-induced misery, see Deuteronomy 28. Yikes.)
So here's the Jew, making his annual pilgrimage to Jerusalem. It was supposed to be a time of feasting, celebrating, not what the Lord had done to them, but for them. Nevertheless...he will be cut off from his people if he doesn't go. And he must not appear before the Lord empty-handed when he does go--you know, the same Lord who did those things cited above...
Where does his help come from, indeed.
My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
Oh. So the Lord, who is making this requirement of me, is going to help me carry it out. Now hold on. What does that sound like? The gospel. This sounds like the gospel. God is going to ask me to do something hard...and then He's going to help me get it done.
Author Trevin Wax says in his book, Gospel-Centered Teaching, that we must be careful to read all of Scripture in a way that is distinctively Christian. He says that if we read, for instance, the Old Testament in a way that a faithful rabbi would concur with...we're reading it wrongly.
So how does the gospel impact the way I read this, my favorite psalm? I can see how the Jew on his pilgrimage might read it. But how do I read it through a cross-centered lens?
He will not allow your foot to slip; He who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade at your right hand.
The sun will not smite you by day, nor the moon by night.
Sleep is an incredible gift. On a good night, the sun sets, the work is over, the melatonin kicks in, and we're off to LaLa Land. On a good night. But not all nights are good nights. I can think of a number of things that keep me from having a good night:
A child heavy on my heart...
A difficult relationship...
A health issue...
The future...
The past...
But most of all, the ultimate sleep stealer is the reality of my sin and the fact that that makes me not right with the Lord. Scares the livin' daylights out of me. For some reason, I'm able to think more clearly when the sun is up. For some reason, I'm able to see the facts, preach the gospel to myself, and understand the renewing mercies of the Lord during the day. And that's why I need to sleep, not think, at night.
But He will not allow my foot to slip. That truth should give me rest. He keeps me, AND He will not slumber. Here's the good news: the Lord does the work of wakefulness so that I can find rest and sleep. No wonder the psalmist says elsewhere that He gives sleep to those He loves.
The Lord will protect you from all evil; he will keep your soul.
Evil. My first thought of evil is bad guys. Criminals. Terrorists. Tyrants. People who seek to do me harm. But the fact is that the most damaging evil is the evil in my own heart. I know that. Deep, deep down, I know that. We have got to start thinking correctly about evil. God does NOT promise to keep me from the bad guys. He promises to keep my soul.
When I had that out-of-body experience the other night, it was sobering. I was instantly aware of how sinful that was against the Lord, what a precarious place that put me, how quickly something offensive could bubble up out of my heart. But He was faithful. As quickly as I sinned, He was right there with a warning. And He was right there with forgiveness. He was keeping my soul.
The Lord will guard your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forever.
One day, two thousand years ago, another Man made this pilgrimage. He looked to the hills of Jerusalem, set His face like flint, and went. He went, not to celebrate what the Father had done for Him, but to receive what the Father was about to do to Him. He did not come empty-handed; He offered Himself. And the awful irony is that His sacrifice cut Him off from the land of the living. The Father poured out His wrath...and then the Father turned His face away.
Because Jesus did not appear empty-handed before the Lord, I do not appear empty-handed before the Lord.
Because Jesus was cut off, I will never be cut off.
Because of what the Father did to Him, I can celebrate what He will do for me.
The Cross is not ancillary to Psalm 121.
The Cross is key to Psalm 121.
So let's read it again, this time through the lens of the Cross.
I will lift up my eyes to the mountains. From where shall my help come?
My help comes from the Lord who made Heaven and earth.
He will not allow your foot to slip; He who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade at your right hand.
The sun will not smite you by day nor the moon by night.
The Lord will protect you from all evil; He will keep your soul.
The Lord will guard your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forever.
The Lord brought me in. And the Lord will bring me all the way home.
My help comes from the Lord.
That's gospel, people.
That's gospel.
Take every thought captive...
Master it, or it will master you...
It was a momentary stand on the precipice of sin, vanishing almost as quickly as it came. I fought it; I caught it--thanks only to the Holy Spirit. But it had come. I can't deny that. I don't mean to imply that me battling sin is somehow infrequent. It's just that this time was more like a weird out-of-body experience in which I was simultaneously fighting the battle and observing it.
The heart is desperately wicked...
Every inclination of the heart is only evil all the time...
Sin did not pounce on me from the outside. It was not lurking around the corner. The devil didn't make me do it. Sin came from inside my heart because that's where sin always comes from. I was nobody's victim. I didn't need therapy, counseling, or healing. I needed to repent.
I lift my eyes to the mountains. From where shall my help come?
Psalm 121, my favorite psalm, is a Song of Ascents. When the Jews made each of three annual, required pilgrimages to Jerusalem, they sang songs of ascent. And those mountains? We're inclined to read into the text that they were a source of help. But Ligon Duncan disagrees. Those mountains, which signified Jerusalem, were a menace. They were the reason the psalmist was crying for help in the first place. I have to agree.
But forget for a moment the physical dangers of the road. Forget the wild beasts. Forget the lawless men. Forget the blistering heat of the day or the terrifying darkness of the road at night. They were going to Jerusalem to meet the Lord.
If there's one area where the ancient Jew has the modern Christian licked--in spades--it would be the way he feared the Lord, as in, he was terrified. These were people intimately acquainted with what the Lord could do, not for them, but to them. It was part of their psyche because it was part of their history:
the earth opening up and swallowing people whole...
serpents biting and killing them...
fire consuming them...
plagues decimating them...
enemies dragging them off to captivity...
(For a more complete catalog of God-induced misery, see Deuteronomy 28. Yikes.)
So here's the Jew, making his annual pilgrimage to Jerusalem. It was supposed to be a time of feasting, celebrating, not what the Lord had done to them, but for them. Nevertheless...he will be cut off from his people if he doesn't go. And he must not appear before the Lord empty-handed when he does go--you know, the same Lord who did those things cited above...
Where does his help come from, indeed.
My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
Oh. So the Lord, who is making this requirement of me, is going to help me carry it out. Now hold on. What does that sound like? The gospel. This sounds like the gospel. God is going to ask me to do something hard...and then He's going to help me get it done.
Author Trevin Wax says in his book, Gospel-Centered Teaching, that we must be careful to read all of Scripture in a way that is distinctively Christian. He says that if we read, for instance, the Old Testament in a way that a faithful rabbi would concur with...we're reading it wrongly.
So how does the gospel impact the way I read this, my favorite psalm? I can see how the Jew on his pilgrimage might read it. But how do I read it through a cross-centered lens?
He will not allow your foot to slip; He who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade at your right hand.
The sun will not smite you by day, nor the moon by night.
Sleep is an incredible gift. On a good night, the sun sets, the work is over, the melatonin kicks in, and we're off to LaLa Land. On a good night. But not all nights are good nights. I can think of a number of things that keep me from having a good night:
A child heavy on my heart...
A difficult relationship...
A health issue...
The future...
The past...
But most of all, the ultimate sleep stealer is the reality of my sin and the fact that that makes me not right with the Lord. Scares the livin' daylights out of me. For some reason, I'm able to think more clearly when the sun is up. For some reason, I'm able to see the facts, preach the gospel to myself, and understand the renewing mercies of the Lord during the day. And that's why I need to sleep, not think, at night.
But He will not allow my foot to slip. That truth should give me rest. He keeps me, AND He will not slumber. Here's the good news: the Lord does the work of wakefulness so that I can find rest and sleep. No wonder the psalmist says elsewhere that He gives sleep to those He loves.
The Lord will protect you from all evil; he will keep your soul.
Evil. My first thought of evil is bad guys. Criminals. Terrorists. Tyrants. People who seek to do me harm. But the fact is that the most damaging evil is the evil in my own heart. I know that. Deep, deep down, I know that. We have got to start thinking correctly about evil. God does NOT promise to keep me from the bad guys. He promises to keep my soul.
When I had that out-of-body experience the other night, it was sobering. I was instantly aware of how sinful that was against the Lord, what a precarious place that put me, how quickly something offensive could bubble up out of my heart. But He was faithful. As quickly as I sinned, He was right there with a warning. And He was right there with forgiveness. He was keeping my soul.
The Lord will guard your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forever.
One day, two thousand years ago, another Man made this pilgrimage. He looked to the hills of Jerusalem, set His face like flint, and went. He went, not to celebrate what the Father had done for Him, but to receive what the Father was about to do to Him. He did not come empty-handed; He offered Himself. And the awful irony is that His sacrifice cut Him off from the land of the living. The Father poured out His wrath...and then the Father turned His face away.
Because Jesus did not appear empty-handed before the Lord, I do not appear empty-handed before the Lord.
Because Jesus was cut off, I will never be cut off.
Because of what the Father did to Him, I can celebrate what He will do for me.
The Cross is not ancillary to Psalm 121.
The Cross is key to Psalm 121.
So let's read it again, this time through the lens of the Cross.
I will lift up my eyes to the mountains. From where shall my help come?
My help comes from the Lord who made Heaven and earth.
He will not allow your foot to slip; He who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade at your right hand.
The sun will not smite you by day nor the moon by night.
The Lord will protect you from all evil; He will keep your soul.
The Lord will guard your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forever.
The Lord brought me in. And the Lord will bring me all the way home.
My help comes from the Lord.
That's gospel, people.
That's gospel.
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