Your Daily Bread

When Jesus tangles with the devil in the desert, the first temptation he faces springs from his hunger. “After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry.” (I bet!) “The tempter came to him and said, ‘If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread.’” (Matt 4:2-3) Jesus famously fires back, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” (4:4) I like how Eugene Peterson put it in The Message: “It takes more than bread to stay alive. It takes a steady stream of words from God’s mouth.”

Words from God’s mouth were Jesus’s bread. They were what sustained him.

Forty days in the desert, hunger and an offer of bread: this scene is a sort of reenactment of Israel’s desert wanderings, for 40 years, which included rumbling stomachs, grumbling words, and the daily miracle of bread (manna) from God.

The first time they complain to Moses about food is in Exodus chapter 16. This is when the Lord begins to provide the daily bread for the Israelites. There’s one strange condition attached to the manna, though:

Then Moses said to them, “No one is to keep any of it until morning.” However, some of them paid no attention to Moses; they kept part of it until morning, but it was full of maggots and began to smell… Each morning everyone gathered as much as they needed, and when the sun grew hot, it melted away. (16:19-21)

The manna was literally daily bread: it arrived every day, and it lasted only for the day. Tomorrow, you’d have to get back out there and gather it again.

Now, remember what Jesus said about bread in the desert. “Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.” Words from God’s mouth were his bread. They sustained him in a way literal bread couldn’t—it takes more than that to stay alive.

If we’re going to follow Jesus’s example, we need words from God’s mouth to feed us. We feed our bodies with meat and grain and fruits and vegetables, and we feed our hearts, souls, and minds with God’s words.

And, like the Israelites discovered in Exodus 16, this work must be done daily. Theologian Walter Moberly writes, “Yhwh’s bread is not the sort that can be kept overnight. It can only be collected afresh each new day.” The bread we need from God, his words, won’t keep. You can’t live today off of what you gathered yesterday. Reading scripture, listening for the Holy Spirit in prayer, conversing with brothers and sisters on the journey alongside you—these things nourish us, but what you did yesterday, last Sunday, last week, isn’t enough to sustain you today. You have to get back out there and gather it again.

What are you doing today to feed your heart, soul, and mind? Other voices in the world will gladly feed your anger, suspicion, greed, prejudices, and lust with their words, every single day. So, what are you doing to maintain a healthy diet, to receive the words you need the most?

“It takes more than bread to stay alive. It takes a steady stream of words from God’s mouth.”

Listen to today's devotional right here!

Is It Time to Get Moving?

You probably know the story of the Hebrews crossing the Red Sea after their escape from Egypt. You might have that scene from The Ten Commandments or The Prince of Egypt permanently stamped in your memory from when you were a kid.

What you may not remember—what I didn’t remember but noticed recently—is something the Lord says to Moses just before the epic miracle on the beach that day. Moses offers the people this rousing call to courage and faith:

“Don’t be afraid. Just stand still and watch the LORD rescue you today. The Egyptians you see today will never be seen again. The LORD himself will fight for you. Just stay calm.” (Exodus 14:13-14)

Stand still and watch the Lord rescue you today! I read that and think, ‘Yeah! That’s it! Sometimes you just have to put yourself in God’s hands and leave all the rescuing up to him.’

But then, in the next verse, the Lord speaks: “Why are you crying out to me? Tell the people to get moving!” (14:15)

Moses told them, “stand still.” God said, ‘Why are you just standing there? Get moving!’

Sometimes you just have to put yourself in God’s hands and leave all the rescuing up to him. But this was not one of those times. This was one of those times when you need to get busy doing your part to see God’s purposes accomplished in the world. Even in a moment that demands a miracle, like the Red Sea crossing, you may have a part to play. Your efforts, however small they feel, may be a part of God’s solution. A critical part, even. The Lord could have evaporated every single drop of water in that sea, and it wouldn’t have done any good if the people hadn’t laced up their shoes and walked across.

Thomas More, a saint in the Catholic Church, once prayed, “The things, good Lord, that we pray for, give us the grace to labor for.” Praying and crying out to God are beyond valuable. Yet, you shouldn’t settle for prayer if God is sending you out as a laborer. When the Lord says “get moving,” it’s time to get up off your knees.

Think about the struggles you’re enduring, the dreams you’re concocting, and the needs you’re staring at right now. Are you standing still, watching for the Lord’s rescue, when you really ought to get moving? Don’t stop praying! But do start considering: how could I be a part of God’s solution?

Gripe like Moses

A few weeks back, I wrote about blaming God and how so many of the prayers in the book of Psalms are quick to let God have it when life goes off the rails. I was reminded of that recently while reading in Exodus. Moses and Aaron go to Pharaoh for the first time in Exodus 5. But this initial “Let me people go!” backfires spectacularly:

That same day Pharaoh gave this order to the slave drivers and overseers in charge of the people: “You are no longer to supply the people with straw for making bricks; let them go and gather their own straw. But require them to make the same number of bricks as before; don’t reduce the quota. They are lazy; that is why they are crying out, ‘Let us go and sacrifice to our God.’ (5:6-8)

Instead of securing the Hebrews’ freedom, Moses and Aaron only made their workload heavier.

When the Israelite foremen give Moses a piece of their mind for getting them into this mess, Moses turns around and gives God a piece of his:

Moses returned to the Lord and said, “Why, Lord, why have you brought trouble on this people? Is this why you sent me? Ever since I went to Pharaoh to speak in your name, he has brought trouble on this people, and you have not rescued your people at all.” (5:22-23)

Moses places the blame squarely on God. You brought trouble on this people. I spoke to Pharaoh in your name. You have not rescued your people. Moses knows how to point the finger at heaven as well as any of the psalmists.

Now, the psalms are prayers, meaning they are our words to God. What you don’t get in Psalms is God’s response. But in Exodus, the Lord speaks.

So, how does God respond to Moses’s resentful accusations? Does he chastise his servant? Maybe put him in his place? Does he threaten him for his impertinence, or explain that Moses simply can’t understand his mysterious ways?

Chapter 6, verse 1:

Then the Lord said to Moses, “Now you will see what I will do to Pharaoh: Because of my mighty hand he will let [my people] go; because of my mighty hand he will drive them out of his country.”

God doesn't chastise or threaten. God tells Moses: this isn't over yet. It's as if he says, 'You think I did all of this, Moses? I'm about to show you what I can do.'

God doesn’t berate Moses for his accusations and anger but reassures him that things won’t always be this way. Because Moses wasn’t wrong. The Lord agreed with him: this isn’t the way things should be. We do need to do something about this.

The next time you find yourself ready to gripe at God, to tell the Lord, “Why have you brought all this trouble? Was this your plan? You haven’t rescued us at all!”, don’t reverently bite your tongue. Go on and gripe, like Moses. Tell the Lord exactly what you think. 

You might be surprised to hear God respond: ‘You’re right. And I’m going to do something about it.’

You can listen to this week's devotional here:

Broken Instruments

We've been working our way through the book of Exodus in our Wednesday night Bible study for the last few weeks, and something that's come up a few times along the way is Moses's imperfections. What do we learn about Moses in the first few chapters of the book?  

• He's a murderer and fugitive from the law (2:11-15)
• He wasn't even committed enough to his Jewish heritage to circumcise his son (4:24-26)
• He's a poor public speaker (4:10)
• He's considered an Egyptian, not a Hebrew, by on-lookers (2:16-19)

Moses has a few strikes against him with the Egyptians and with the Hebrews. Sure, he has some unique qualifications for the job, too. He has experience and knowledge of both the Egyptian and Hebrew cultures. He clearly has a heart for the plight of the Hebrew slaves. But he's hardly an ideal candidate for going to Pharaoh, demanding "Let my people go!", and leading Israel out of Egypt. He has some serious imperfections.

Moses's story reminds me of something I heard Rick Warren say in an interview a couple years ago. He remarked that, "God only uses broken things. If he used perfect things, nothing would get done."

Yes, Moses had some brokenness, some imperfections. Everyone does. But God looked past that and called Moses, and, as a result, there were impossible miracles and astonishing deliverance. One of the foundational moments and defining acts of salvation in the story of scripture was accomplished: the Lord conquered Pharaoh’s power, emancipated the slaves, and established a nation. Everything else that comes in the story of the Bible—David and Solomon, Jonah and Daniel, Mary and Jesus—all of it is only possible because the Lord used Moses, imperfections and all.

Maybe God’s calling you today. Maybe the Lord has a job for you, but, like Moses, you’ve got a list of excuses, of reasons why God should go find somebody else. You might even have some very good reasons! Your brokenness intersects with God’s purpose, and you don’t see any sense in even trying. You’re just not the ideal candidate, not a perfect fit for this job.

But Moses already showed us just what God can do with broken and imperfect people. The Lord can accomplish impossible miracles and astonishing deliverance—through you. And it doesn’t take a sea rushing out of your way to astonish. Bread falling from the sky isn’t the only kind of impossible.

Bread in somebody’s pantry, where there’s usually cobwebs.

A shelter for women and children making room for more beds, more deliverance.

Someone who lives on the street feeling noticed, respected, and loved.

A ride to the doctor for the shut-in who’s had to cancel too many appointments.

A whole week sober for the first time in years.

A father telling his child “I’m sorry” for the first time ever.

These are the kinds of miracles that the world outside your window needs. Nothing supernatural, per se. No Red Seas or manna required. Just an imperfect but willing instrument in God’s able hands. How might you make a difference and make the world look more like that today?

Don’t think it can’t be you. God only uses broken things

You can listen to today's devotional below:

A Soul at War

“Beloved, I urge you as aliens and exiles to abstain from the desires of the flesh that wage war against the soul.” – 1 Peter 2:11

I was reading in 1 Peter the other day, when this verse caught my eye. There are desires of the flesh that “wage war” against our souls—they’re relentlessly hostile towards and destructive to our souls.

Well, that’s kind of alarming.

So what are these “desires of the flesh”? These sound like things we should identify, so we can avoid them, don’t you think?

1 Peter goes on to describe how to “conduct yourselves honorably” (2:12) in relation to governing authorities (2:13-17) and within your household (2:18-3:7). Then come a few verses that, based on what they’re promoting, suggest a few “desires of the flesh” to me:

-          Division (3:8)

-          Hardheartedness (3:8)

-          Apathy and hate (3:8)

-          Arrogance (3:8)

-          Getting payback (3:9)

-          Evil words (3:10)

-          Deceitfulness (3:10)

-          Sowing conflict (3:11)

That phrase, “the desires of the flesh,” also pops up in Galatians chapter 5. Paul calls on his readers not to “gratify the desires of the flesh,” because those desires are opposed to the work of the Holy Spirit (5:16-17). And unlike Peter, Paul was sure to outline exactly what he meant:

Now the works of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity, debauchery, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. (5:19-21)

There’s some overlap between the two—notice especially division and sowing conflict in 1 Peter and strife, quarrels, dissensions, and factions in Galatians—but between these two letters, we get a pretty wide range of “desires of the flesh.”

Your habit of returning fire any time you feel you’ve been criticized or insulted.

That quarrel in your family or your church that you have no interest in deescalating.

Your confidence that you know better and see things more clearly than those idiots who think this or do that.

The nights out getting drunk with your buddies.

Those lustful thoughts you don’t mind indulging and the dirty websites you don’t mind visiting.

These things may seem more or less harmless. You may not have ever given a second thought to the morality of it all—why would you? It’s pretty normal behavior. And some of it you’re enjoying quite a bit!

But Peter wants us to recognize the reality: these desires of the flesh that you’re enjoying are hostile to you. They’re trying to destroy your soul. They want to sharpen your self-interest and dull your love. They aim to normalize harshness, to break habits of understanding or apologizing, and to grease the wheels of toxic cycles. They want to leave you content with your sins and disinclined to pursue transformation.

Well, what are we supposed to do about it?

1 Peter does gives us a powerful challenge in 3:8-9, but, as much as I love those verses, it’s Paul’s words that I think we need the most. How are we supposed to avoid falling into the trap of the “desires of the flesh”? He follows up his catalog of “works of the flesh” (5:19-21) with some familiar words:

By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (5:22-23)

If you want to combat the desires of the flesh waging war against the soul, step one is to invite the Spirit to plant something new in you, to cultivate in your heart the antidotes to the poison apple the flesh offers.

You need reinforcements to win this war. It’s time to bring the Holy Spirit to the front line.

 Listen to this week's devotional right here!

God's Agenda

Last week I shared some thoughts on a charge brought against God in Mary Doria Russell’s novel, The Sparrow. Faced with tragedy (and a priest’s unsatisfying response), one of the characters, Anne, cries: “What sticks in my throat is that God gets the credit but never the blame... Either God’s in charge or He’s not.”

I have a tendency to do this, to give God praise for the good things in life but to exonerate God in the wake of loss and pain. What am I supposed to tell the Annes in the world, though, when they cry foul?

Today I want to share one more thing about all of this. Anne insists, “Either God’s in charge or He’s not.” I, personally, don’t believe that God is “in charge.” At least, not in the way that she means.

I do believe that God has a plan for the world, and that one day God’s plan will be accomplished. That’s the promise of Revelation 21 and 22. Nothing will stop that, "For the Lord of hosts has planned, and who will annul it? His hand is stretched out, and who will turn it back?" (Isa 14:27) In that sense, God is in control and steering everything towards a particular outcome.

But I don’t believe that God plans and arranges everything that happens in the meantime, that all of the good and the bad in life are a part of God’s will.

Here’s what I believe about what God is up to in the world:

I believe that God works all things together for good for those who love him (Rom 8:28).

I believe that God’s plans are meant to prosper us and not to harm us, to give us a hope and a future. (Jer 29:11)

I believe that the Lord has multiplied his wondrous deeds and his thoughts toward us, that if I proclaimed and told of them, they’re more than can be told. (Ps 40:5)

I believe in a God who wants to make the world “very good” again (Gen 1:31), who doesn’t want anyone to perish (2 Pet 3:9), who’s going to destroy death (1 Cor 15:26) and the one who has the power of death, the devil (Heb 2:14). I believe in a God who came to earth to welcome outcasts, heal the sick, raise the dead, and, ultimately, taste death for everyone (Heb 2:9).

I give God the credit and not the blame because, to me, God’s agenda is only ever to work good for this world. That is God’s business day in, day out. Not orchestrating and running all things under heaven, but seeking the good, the salvation, and the eternal life of all. Anything else is a result, not of God’s desires or will, but of human sin or nature’s brokenness. That's the reason we don't always see things working together for good, why circumstances will harm us and not prosper us. Though they can't thwart God's eternal plans for us, human sin and nature's brokenness are powerful forces at work in the world that often do prevent God's desires for our lives here and now.

And those are exactly the things that Jesus sought to make right when he walked the earth: turning men and women from sin and bandaging up the wounds caused by a broken world.

That's how I see the Lord and the Lord’s work in the world.

Anne still may not be satisfied, I know. And maybe she's right. The picture in scripture is certainly messier and blurrier than these few verses make it sound. But this is the theology I live with. Every day I try to be one of this God's people. 

And, to me, that's not a God who deserves blame. That’s a God who inspires awe and gratitude.

Listen to today's devotional right here:

Blaming God

I just finished a powerful, haunting novel by Mary Doria Russell called The Sparrow. It’s a sci-fi story about a team of Jesuit (Catholic) missionaries who travel to a recently discovered alien world to make contact with the extra-terrestrial peoples there. There’s so much beauty and depth in this book that I often had to put it down and take time to digest what I’d just read.

One scene that I’ve been chewing on for a couple weeks followed the death of one of their party, the puzzling illness of another, and now the disappearance of two more of their companions. One of the priests and a doctor named Anne are talking through it all, when she asks where was God’s plan in the death of their colleague or in the possible loss of their two missing friends.

“God knows,” he said, and there was in his tone both an admission of defeat and a statement of faith.

“See, that’s where it falls apart for me!” Anne cried. “What sticks in my throat is that God gets the credit but never the blame. I just can’t swallow that kind of theological candy. Either God’s in charge or He’s not.”

This isn’t the first time I’ve heard that complaint about Christianity, but it is the first time I’ve stopped and considered how I’d answer it.

Now, I feel a little out of my depth here, honestly. I’ve lived a pretty comfortable life. The worst thing that’s ever happened to me is a bad Star Wars movie that came out once. I exaggerate—but I haven’t had a particularly hard life. I’ve lost family and friends, sometimes suddenly and unexpectedly, but most of my experience of suffering has been second-hand. I’ve helped people bury their spouses and their children. I’ve witnessed shocking poverty and need, as well as the effects of depression, addiction, and suicide. So, while I admit I’m not the ideal candidate to answer Anne’s question, I also like to think that I’m not totally unacquainted with the moments in life that make people ask it.

So why does God get the credit but never the blame?

I think this is a good question. Maybe it's one you've asked yourself before. I want to share two things. I’ll just mention one this week and get into the other one next time.

The first thing is, if you have been hurt or disappointed and want to blame God, tell him so. Don’t hold those feelings back. God can handle it.

After all, the Lord gave us the book of Psalms.

“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?” (13:1)

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?” (22:1)

“You placed me down in the deepest pit, in places dark and deep. Your anger smothers me; you subdue me with it, wave after wave.” (88:6-7)

I don’t think that blaming God for something is unfaithful. In fact, sometimes, I think that’s exactly what faith looks like. That’s what it looked like for the authors of scripture. That’s even what it looked like for Jesus, on the cross (Matt 27:46).

And that faith made them cry out to God in their hurt.

If you stumble over this question, like Anne did in the novel, then maybe the answer isn’t scriptural arguments or theological speculations. Maybe the answer isn’t thinking about God. Maybe the answer is talking to God—giving God a talking to. It could be that the way through this struggle is less intellectual and more relational, less about getting everything straight in your head and more about getting some things straight between you and God.

You can listen to this week's devotional below!

Care of Your Time

Photo by charlesdeluvio on Unsplash

John Wesley, the father of the Methodist movement back in the 1700s, believed that the first rule for holy living is care of your time. A Christian must take great care, must be very intentional, in how she spends her time, because the things you give your time and attention to form you. But I think Wesley’s rule could perhaps use an update for the 21^st century. In a world of omnipresent electronic media, “care of your time” often just means “care of your screen time.”

Think of all the time you spend in front of screens during the day—besides the hours you put in for work or school:

You turn on cable news when you get home and leave it on in the background all evening.

You scroll social media first thing in the morning, while you’re eating, before bed, or in between chores or tasks, looking at folks’ vacation pictures and laughing at their memes.

You peruse the news or opinions from your preferred outlets or newsletters.

You window shop on Amazon, eBay, and Etsy, or you place a grocery order through the Walmart app.

You login to Netflix or HBO Max after dinner to jump back into your latest TV binge.

You open Twitter to find out what we’re indignant about today or join in the rant of the hour.

You rush home from church to catch the Saints game or start the morning with College GameDay before the big game Saturday night.

Really, how much time do you get without any screens or media trying to grab your attention? How much actual peace and quiet is there in your day?

There’s a verse from Romans I think about often that says, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.” (12:2) Do not be conformed, but be transformed.

The things we give our time and attention to will form us—whether that’s a steady stream of media conforming us to this world, or the powerful presence of God’s Spirit transforming us. One way or another, you’re going to be formed, but, with a little care of your time, you can be strategic about who or what is forming you.

Step one towards “care of your time,” may simply be paying attention. Paying attention increases awareness, and awareness facilitates intentional change. Maybe start asking yourself some questions like these:

• Have you noticed how much screen time you’re getting every day? Do you have a way of keeping track (like the Screen Time feature on an iPhone)?
• Are you being purposeful when you turn on the TV or pick up your phone—or are you doing it out of sheer habit?
• What gets put off or neglected in your schedule (or in your relationships!) because of time carelessly lost to electronic media?
• Are you as consistent in daily spiritual practices as you are in daily media consumption? If not, is there some screen time you can repurpose for seeking God’s Spirit and transformation?

The End of Division

I’ve been sharing, the last couple of weeks, about how I see the story of the Bible as the story of God repairing everything that was broken in the Garden of Eden. And I’ve talked some about how I see Jesus fitting into that story, but I want to mention one other, essential character in God’s plans: the Holy Spirit.

Like with Jesus, there are so many ways you could describe the Spirit’s role in God’s work to heal the world from the wounds of Eden. But I want to focus on one other story from Genesis that you’ve probably heard before, the Tower of Babel.

Now the whole earth had one language and the same words… And they said to one another, “Come, let us make bricks and fire them thoroughly.” And they had brick for stone and bitumen for mortar. Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves.” (11:1, 3-4)

Babel, though it’s a little later in the narrative, is another example of the brokenness brought on by the first couple in the garden. After all, the serpent first tricked Eve with the promise “you will be like God” (3:5), and now we have men and women trying to move in to heaven, making their home in the very dwelling of God.

The consequence, famously, is that “the Lord confused the language of all the earth; and from there the Lord scattered them abroad over the face of all the earth.” (11:9) Now, all the people were divided, by language and by geography.

Fast forward to the book of Acts in the New Testament. Jesus has ascended back to heaven, and the believers are waiting in Jerusalem for the arrival of the Holy Spirit. Then, in a roar of wind and the glow of “tongues of fire,” the Spirit arrives—and the disciples begin to speak.

At that time there were devout Jews from every nation living in Jerusalem. When they heard the loud noise, everyone came running, and they were bewildered to hear their own languages being spoken by the believers. They were completely amazed. “How can this be?” they exclaimed. “These people are all from Galilee, and yet we hear them speaking in our own native languages! Here we are—Parthians, Medes, Elamites, people from Mesopotamia, Judea, Cappadocia, Pontus, the province of Asia, Phrygia, Pamphylia, Egypt, and the areas of Libya around Cyrene, visitors from Rome (both Jews and converts to Judaism), Cretans, and Arabs. And we all hear these people speaking in our own languages about the wonderful things God has done!” They stood there amazed and perplexed. “What can this mean?” they asked each other. (2:5-12)

What does this mean?

It means that the Holy Spirit is undoing the consequences of Babel. God’s repairing the devastation of Eden.

A scattered people are gathered together. Languages once confused by God are now made clear by the Spirit of the same God. The barriers of geography and communication that sin necessitated no longer need divide us, because God is making humanity like new again, freed from Sin’s power over our lives. We may still succumb to its siren song at times, but we are no longer Sin’s slaves—the Spirit has set us free. (Rom 8:2)

Seeing the effects of Babel rolled back reminds me that everything broken will be repaired. There’s no hurt or loss from sin you can point to that Jesus and his Spirit are not working to heal and restore. Every last trace of Sin’s dominion over us and over this world will be wiped away. Everything, Revelation promises, will be made new. (21:5)

Even our broken relationships and divisions.

You can listen to today's devotional here:

Unashamed

Some of the consequences of Adam and Eve’s actions in the story of the Garden of Eden are pretty well-known: sin entered the world (see Romans 5:12); death entered the world (Gen 2:17, 3:19); the image of God in humanity was shattered—until Christ came and perfectly mirrored God the Father again.

But one of the other consequences of tasting that forbidden fruit doesn’t seem to get as much attention. After Adam and Eve are deceived by the serpent and disobey the Lord, Genesis says, “the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.” (2:7) Moments later, the couple hears the familiar footfall of God walking in the garden, and they hide from him behind the trees.

But the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?” He answered, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.” (3:9-10)

Before the Fall, Genesis says "the man and his wife were both naked, and were not ashamed." (2:25) But, because of Eve and Adam’s disobedience, fear and shame enter the story of the world. They had always been naked, but they’d never felt the need to hide their nakedness before. They had never worried that someone might see their bodies. That shame and that fear only set in once their minds and hearts have been infected by Sin’s power.

Did you know that shame about our bodies was never God’s intention for us?

The kinds of feelings and fears that we hear about leading kids and teenagers into depression, anxiety, eating disorders, and even suicidal thoughts—those were invented by that serpent from Hell. That’s not what God wanted for us.

But, remember, the story of the Bible is the story of God’s work to repair everything that was broken in the Garden of Eden. And this bit of our brokenness is no exception.

In the book of 1 John in the New Testament, we read, “now, little children, remain in relationship to Jesus, so that when he appears we can have confidence and not be ashamed in front of him when he comes.” (2:28) Where once we hid from him in fear and shame, God has orchestrated a new possibility: a day when we can all be confident and unashamed when he appears. Those feelings and fears will be erased forever.

In Genesis the Lord covered the first couple's shame with animal skins (3:21)—because it would take a little longer before he could clothe us in life and love (2 Cor 5:4 and Col 3:14). In time, though, the Son of God died, naked on a piece of lumber, for that couple who hid their nakedness behind the trees in the garden, afraid of the God approaching. He died, so that one day we could all stand, without shame, when we see our Lord approaching.

He died to set us free from fear and set us free from shame.

Listen to this week's devotional right here!

Escalate Grace

Last week I shared how, to me, the story of the Bible is the story of God’s work to repair everything that was broken in the Garden of Eden.

So how does Jesus fit in to that story?

There are a few ways you could answer that. I’ll just share one today.

Jesus is God’s way of rebooting humanity. Restoring us to the factory settings, you might say. Because Jesus is what we were supposed to be. Human beings were created in the image of God (Gen 1:27), but that image was defaced by sin. Then Jesus shows up, and he is the image of God (Col 1:15). He shows us the life we were created for—and we’re told that, with the help of his Spirit, we can start to recapture that image ourselves (Rom 8:29).

In Genesis 4, you get a neat example of how Jesus flips our broken humanity on its head. Genesis chapter 4 opens with the famous story of Cain murdering his brother, Abel. But there’s another, much less famous story later in the chapter: the story of Cain’s great-great-great-grandson, Lamech. We don’t learn much about him. He’s the son of Methushael (I’m sure you remember Methushael), and he has two wives. Beyond that, there are only two verses about Lamech:

        Lamech said to his wives,

“Adah and Zillah, listen to me;
    wives of Lamech, hear my words.
I have killed a man for wounding me,
    a young man for injuring me.
If Cain is avenged seven times,
    then Lamech seventy-seven times.” (4:23-24)

After Cain killed his brother, the Lord put a mark on him and warned that “I will give a sevenfold punishment” to anyone who kills Cain. (4:15) Now Lamech brags that a sevenfold vengeance is nothing­—he’ll exact a seventy-sevenfold vengeance against any assailants. The Lord was attempting to deter retaliation against the first murderer, but Lamech took that as an invitation to escalate vindictiveness and retaliation.

Now compare that to a familiar story about Jesus: Peter asks him, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus’s response? “Not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” (Matt 18:21-22)

I was reading Genesis recently and noticed, for the first time, how Jesus’s teaching echoes but transforms Lamech’s threat. Instead of escalating vindictiveness and retaliation, Jesus is escalating forgiveness and grace.

He did it because that—not Lamech’s reaction, but Jesus’s way—is what human beings were created for. Lamech is only one chapter removed from the Garden of Eden, and yet, already, the image of God has been so thoroughly demolished in humanity. But Jesus picks up those broken pieces and makes something beautiful, showing us, again, who we were made to be, what life is really all about, and what our words and actions are for.

They’re for escalating grace.

What challenges you the most about the way Jesus lived on earth?

What's one thing you could do differently this week to make your life a little more of an image of God to someone around you? Be specific.

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Why Eden Matters

A married couple. A fruit tree. A snake.

We all know the tale of the forbidden fruit in the garden—it’s one of the most famous scenes in the Bible. It’s also a story I find myself coming back to again and again, because it is one of the two defining moments in the story of the world that scripture’s telling. The first defining moment comes at the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in Eden. The second comes at a tree on Calvary outside of Jerusalem.

Why is Eden so important to the story the Bible tells?

It’s a crossroads: the trajectory of the world takes a sharp turn when that fruit’s plucked from its branch.

In Genesis 1 and 2 we hear about the creation of a world that’s very good (1:31). A world of blessing and abundance (1:22, 28). A world of life (2:9) and companionship (2:18), where death is hypothetical (2:17) and shame is unheard of (2:25). That is the Lord’s desire for the world.

But in chapter 3, everything changes. Because a serpent said “you can be like God,” and a fruit looked “good for food… a delight to the eyes” (3:5-6), Eve and Adam broke the world. They rejected God’s intentions for them, and the consequences were curses (3:14, 17) and toil (3:17-19), blame (3:12-13) and enmity (3:15), shame (3:7), fear (3:10), and death (3:19)—every good thing in the story of creation is unraveled.

Genesis chapters 1 and 2 were written to answer the question, Where did we come from? Do you want to know why the earth is covered in oceans, where bluebirds and jaguars, or family and love come from? There’s a story for that.

Genesis chapter 3 was written to answer the question, Why is the world the way it is? Do you want to know why people lie to each other, or where cancer and stillbirths and tears come from? Well, there’s a story for that, too.

This turning point in the story of the world tells us two things about our lives in the world today, which I think are absolutely essential.

First, it tells us about life’s hurts. Grief, betrayal, pain—none of that is God’s desire for the world. We have a picture of the way the world ought to be, and it doesn’t include any of that. The things that hurt so much are consequences of sin, the marks of brokenness.

Second, not only does this moment set the world on a new trajectory, but it also sets God’s trajectory for the rest of scripture. We’re three chapters in, with 1,186 to go, and the story from here on out tells of God’s efforts to rescue the world. Abraham and Sarah, Moses, David, Mary, Jesus—the whole Bible is about God working with men and women to undo the damage done by the first man and woman. The Lord still desires a world of blessing, abundance, life, and companionship. That’s never changed.

The Bible is not just a book about men and women heading to Hell who need forgiveness. The Bible is a book about a world that’s been broken and needs to be healed and made new.

And about a Creator who's determined to do just that. No matter how long it takes. No matter what the cost.

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When There are No Words

I spend a lot of time with people who are hurting. It comes with the job. And there are certain phrases and sentiments that I hear expressed a lot when somebody dies or life otherwise falls apart around someone.

“She’s in a better place.”

“This too shall pass.”

“God is in control.”

“It was just his time.”

“Everything happens for a reason.”

I’m sure some people put a lot of thought into these things before they open their mouths. Often, though, this sounds to me like a filler—you feel the need to say something—or an obligatory expression of faith, something that you’re “supposed” to say at times like these.

I was reminded of all this when I read Job 13:12 this week. Responding to the words of his three “comforters,” Job doesn’t mince words:

Your pronouncements are like maxims of dust;

Your responses—like lumps of clay.

Job was enduring tremendous suffering from unimaginable loss. After he put all of his anguish and hurt into words in chapter 3, one of his friends felt like he needed to say something and told Job many of the things you’re “supposed” to say at times like these. Job’s response led the other friends to chime in, and this back-and-forth leads to chapter after chapter of pronouncements like:

If your sons committed a sin against him,

He has dispatched them for their offense. (8:4)

Your kids had this coming. God acted appropriately.

Can you fathom the depths of God?

Can you reach the limit of the Almighty? (11:7)

God’s just too big for you to understand. You can’t see the full picture here!

But to the man whose life had become a black hole of loss, these words were “maxims of dust.” Their words couldn’t stand up to a gentle breeze, much less the full, grim reality of Job’s experiences and questions.

We’ve all said the wrong thing to somebody before. In 16:4, Job admits that “Even I would speak like you, if you were in my place.” We’ve all felt that pressure to find the right words when we reach the front of the line at a wake. And, realistically, no words will be enough when someone’s experienced terrible loss.

But the failure of Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar to offer Job anything but “lumps of clay” should instruct us.

The people we know and love who are suffering don’t need a theological explanation for what they’re going through—Where was God? How could God let this happen?—like these three tried to offer Job.

They probably don’t need trite proverbs about loss or sympathy card slogans—Our loss is heaven’s gain!

They certainly don’t need blame—You should have known this would happen the moment you quit bringing those kids to church.

And they don’t need someone who will argue with their outpouring of grief and pain.

What they need from you and me, I believe, are the simplest, truest words we can offer.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I love you.”

“I’m here for you.” (Backed up, in the weeks and months ahead, by “What do you need today?”)

At first, though, they may just need a quiet presence, a warm hug, listening ears, and sympathetic eyes. As Job told Zophar, “If only you would keep silent, yes, silent—for that would be wisdom for you!” (13:5) When you feel like there are no words for a situation, maybe you’re right. Maybe no words would be best.

Like one of my seminary professors once said, reflecting on people’s responses to her own battle with stage 4 cancer, “I hope everyone simmers down on the explanations for other people’s suffering, and just steps in with love.”

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Everything You Need

Pecanland Mall, back in the day.

When I was a kid, a candy store opened at Pecanland Mall with rows and rows of those clear, acrylic bins where you swing open the lid, stick in the handy scoop, and shovel your favorite sweets into a plastic bag. Even for a kid whose favorite candy was kind of obscure, like mine, there was everything you wanted, any flavors, colors, or shapes, along the walls of that shop.

I think sometimes we can see life as sort of a candy shop, expecting to fill our little bags with anything and everything we could want: newer cars, nicer homes, better jobs, whatever hobbies, entertainment, food, or trips that catch our eyes. Sure, it may take hard work and some time, it may take some prayer, but we expect all of that to pay off in the end. If we really want something, there’s no reason we can’t have it or achieve it or experience it.

And there are verses and phrases in scripture that (when taken out of their contexts) can reinforce that expectation. After all, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Phil 4:13) And, “since we know he hears us when we make our requests, we also know that he will give us what we ask for.” (1 John 5:15)

And, getting back to Hebrews 13, doesn’t it say in verse 21 that God will “give you everything you need” for this life?

Yes and no.

Hebrews does assure us that God will provide “everything you need,” but then it adds the key words, “to do what he wants done.” (13:21, FNV) God has not equipped you for a life of satisfying every craving and scratching every item off the bucket list. God has equipped you for a life of service. Life isn’t a candy store. It’s a mission.

This all comes back to a fundamental truth of the Christian outlook on life: you are not your own, for you were bought with a price (1 Cor 6:19-20). (I heard an author say in an interview once that children are a constant reminder that our lives are not our own, and, boy, did I get what she meant!) Our lives are not given to us simply to seek our own (or our kids') pleasure, goals, and fulfillment. Our lives are for seeking the Kingdom (Matt 6:33), for loving the Lord and our neighbors. That’s God’s will for us. And God will give you everything you need to do what he wants done.

What have you been expecting from God? What leaves you feeling let down by God? Is it something the Lord promised or something you wanted?

How do think about all that you’ve been given in this life? Are your time, resources, skills, and passion for achieving what you want done? Or were they given to you to do what He wants done?

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Guard Your Peace

Photo by Jackson Hendry on Unsplash

“Keep yourself free from the love of possessions and be at peace with what you have.” – Hebrews 13:5a

You see a commercial on TV or an ad on a website, and there it is: the thing you never knew you wanted, until now. It promptly and firmly embeds itself in the back of your mind (and those clever online ads keep showing it to you—especially if you clicked and took a closer look the first time), and you find yourself thinking about how you might use it, where you might keep it, when you could wear it, or how you’ll pay for it.

That’s a pretty familiar experience for me, and maybe it is for you, too. After all, we’re advertised to constantly, with slick, targeted pitches, fine-tuned by focus groups for one purpose: to reel you in. That’s just a part of life today.

But when I read Hebrews 13 recently, verse 5 taught me to see all of that in a new light. “Be at peace with what you have,” the author urges us.

Peace.

These advertisements and the desires that they cultivate within us disrupt your peace. Through them, the prospect of the next thing slams into your contentment like a rock hitting the surface of a pond, unsettling everything. The peaceful water is gone, replaced by the choppy ripples of covetousness.

If you have any kind of collecting hobby, try to keep up with the latest personal devices, buy books you could never hope to get around to, are always surprised at the amount of clothes in the closet that still have their tags, or never met a tool you couldn’t imagine a need for, you’ll understand this. You're never quite at peace with what you have. You're always daydreaming of or on the lookout for what’s next, the newest thing.

“Keep yourself free from the love of possessions and be at peace with what you have.”

This reminds me of two words of advice from Richard Foster’s classic guide to spiritual practices, Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth. He ends his chapter on Simplicity with ten very practical principles, including:

1. Learn to enjoy things without owning them. “Many things in life,” he writes, “can be enjoyed without possessing them. Share things. Enjoy the beach without feeling you have to buy a piece of it. Enjoy public parks and libraries.” When the desire to own something new floods your mind and steals your peace, maybe the first question you need to ask is, “Could I use this or enjoy this without having to own it?”
2. Reject anything that’s producing an addiction in you. Foster has more in mind here than drug or alcohol addiction. He mentions coffee, Coca-Cola, chocolate, TV. “Any of the media that you find you cannot do without, get rid of… Refuse to be a slave to anything but God.” If a desire for more and more is disrupting your peace, you may to consider if you’ve been fueling that desire by repeatedly indulging it, and it’s produced a sort of addiction. Is it time to go cold turkey?

You’re going to be bombarded today by images and messages trying to whet your appetite for something else. I hope that we’ll all begin taking steps to guard the contentment and peace in our hearts and minds from the world’s assaults.

You can listen to this week's devotional right here!

Don't Forget Them

Last week, I shared a little about Hebrews 13:3, “Remember those in prison, as if you were there yourself. Remember also those being mistreated, as if you felt their pain in your own bodies.” As I was reading this chapter recently, I noticed a link between that verse and another one farther down. Hebrews 13:16 says:

And do not forget to do good and share with those who are in need, for these are also sacrificial gifts that make Creator’s heart glad. (FNV)

Verse 3 challenges us to remember those who are imprisoned and being mistreated. Then, verse 16 calls us not to forget to do good and be generous to people in need.

Remember these people. Don’t forget them.

Now, I think “remembering” and “not forgetting” are talking about more than a mental activity. When someone asks you to “go to the store,” they don’t want you to travel to the store, turn around, and come home. There are several other, unspoken steps implied in “go to the store”: enter the building, find the items on the list, purchase those things, bring them home. I think that’s also true for “remember.” It implies seeking people out, learning what they need, and 'doing good and sharing'—as well as remembering them in your prayers.

And yet, how often do we fail to love and serve our neighbors because we simply and literally forgot about them?

People eating lunch every day at the soup kitchen in a part of town you usually avoid.

Those who suffer behind closed doors, away from prying eyes—children or spouses suffering from neglect or abuse.

A friend who once mentioned a struggle with suicidal thoughts, who you’d just assumed has gotten over it by now.

Out of sight, out of mind, right? Life’s so busy, things are always falling through the cracks. If you can forget to call your Dad on Father’s Day—sorry again, Dad!—you can certainly forget about people whose situations and needs rarely (if ever!) intersect with your daily life.

Remember these people. Don’t forget them. That may mean more than ‘recalling that they exist’—but that is step one, without which you’ll never do them a lick of good.

Remembering things is not a strength of mine. Special occasions, urgent tasks, important meetings? You might as well ask me my 8^th grade locker combination.

I do all kinds of things to compensate for that: I’ve carved out some consistent, daily routines, to get myself stuck in helpful ruts; I write things on my calendar; I keep a to-do list on the phone; I have daily and weekly alarms and reminders going off constantly. Because I’m naturally very forgetful, I use the tools I have to create an environment where forgetting is almost impossible.

What could help you remember these people and needs that would be so easy to forget? What tools, what sorts of reminders could you use to keep people and situations that are out of sight in your mind?

Don’t forget to do good and share with those who are in need. That kind of sacrificial love touches God’s heart.

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As Yourself

Recently I was reading through Hebrews, and I found myself really struck by a few lines in chapter 13. Hebrews 13 isn’t a chapter I’ve given much thought to before. It’s a bit of a grab-bag, where it feels like the author’s throwing in a word or two on as many topics as he can before he runs out of paper to write on. But the wide range of topics is one reason I enjoyed it so much this go-round—it’s like reading a chapter in Proverbs that hits on twenty different subjects, but seven of them get you right between the eyes.

For instance, Hebrews 13:3: “Remember those in prison, as if you were there yourself. Remember also those being mistreated, as if you felt their pain in your own bodies.” (NLT) I’ve done a lot of ministry in prisons over the years, so this verse has always stood out to me, but I heard something in it this time that I never have before. Remember these people, the author exhorts, as if it were you. Give as much attention to those in prison as you’d give your own predicament if you were there. Feel the wounds of those who are mistreated as keenly as you’d feel it in your own bodies.

In other words, this verse is a call to love your neighbor as yourself (Lev 19:18; Mark 12:31).

It’s easy to hear that old, familiar adage without giving much thought to those two words on the end. But Hebrews doesn’t let us off the hook. It brings us face-to-face with the meaning of “as yourself.” What would you do about it if you were the one in prison? How would you respond if you were the one in pain? That is how you ought to respond to your neighbors in those circumstances. Put yourself in their shoes, and then take action like your life and well-being depended on it. Love them as yourself.

This verse offers us a model for how to apply this great commandment from Jesus. All you need to do is substitute different neighbors into the formula:

Remember those in nursing homes, as if you were there yourself.

Remember those in foster care, as if you were there yourself.

Remember those with depression, as if you felt their pain in your own bodies.

Those fighting cancer, as if you felt their sickness, uncertainty, and fear. Those in the grip of addiction, as if you faced the failure, shame, homelessness, and hopelessness they do. Those going through a divorce, those grieving the loss of a child or of a spouse, those in constant fear of racial discrimination, those whose communities have been leveled by tornadoes… The list could go on and on.

But each time, “as yourself” challenges us to imagine their hurts and needs, or to remember a time when we were in a similar situation, and then to love them in the ways we would hope for, if our situations were reversed.

Love them with the thoughtful acts of service and support, the healing words, and the steady presence you’d hope for, if it were you.

Love them as yourself.

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Words Matter

When I was growing up, the only Bible verse about our words that I knew was Ephesians 5:4: “neither filthiness, nor foolish talking, nor coarse jesting, which are not fitting, but rather giving of thanks.” I tried to use that to convince people not to cuss. (It went over really well.) That was about the extent of my concern with the things we say.

As I’ve gotten older, though, I’ve found myself drawn more and more to the different teachings in Proverbs that have to do with how we talk to each other. Things like

The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing. (12:18)

A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. (15:1)

The righteous heart reflects before answering, but the wicked mouth blurts out evil. (15:28)

I think this newfound interest in how we use our words has to do with all of the different roles I find myself playing in life these days. I’m a father. I’m a husband. I’m a boss. I'm a teacher. I have to lead committee meetings. I have to step into some very emotionally fraught situations—moments of grief, hurt, anxiety, and conflict. The longer I’ve worn those hats, the more I’ve recognized how important these teachings are.

All of that had me primed for hearing an old, familiar passage with new ears recently. I was reading through James, when I came to 1:26-27 (FNV):

All who represent themselves as spiritual but do not keep their tongue under control are only fooling themselves—their spirituality is worthless. But the one whose spirituality is pure and spotless before our Father the Great Spirit* takes care of widows and orphans, and keeps himself free from the evil ways of this world.

I’ve always loved verse 27 for its emphasis on caring for people who are vulnerable and in need, but this time verse 26 really struck me. James is pretty blunt here: if your spirituality doesn’t affect how you speak to other people, it’s worthless.

I don’t think he stresses our words because that’s the single most important activity we engage in. I think he stresses our words because that’s about the most basic activity we engage in. We speak to people all day long. With phones and social media, that’s truer now than ever. If our faith doesn’t impact this basic, constant activity, which directly affects everyone we interact with—then, really, what good is it?

From where James is standing, it’s worthless.

I want to leave us with a couple of questions today:

• Are you deliberate about how you speak to other people, or are you usually just saying whatever comes into your mind?
• Do any of those verses from Proverbs particularly speak to you?
• Is there one relationship or one environment in your life where you need to become more intentional about letting your faith affect your words, tone, and body language? What would be step one?

* The First Nations Version is a translation of the New Testament that’s written for Native American readers. One difference from most English translations is that it doesn’t use the term “God,” which Western readers are so familiar with, but instead talks about “the Great Spirit,” a phrase more familiar for Native Americans.

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