"When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him? You...crowned him with glory and honor." (Psa. 8:3-5)
If there's anything our generation lacks in wisdom, it's perspective. Sin has always distorted our thoughts, making us larger than we ought to be and making God smaller than He is. As a result, our problems seem bigger than God, our plans seem better than His will, and our faulty logic makes more sense to us than His infallible Word.
What can correct us? What can bring us back into the right perspective? This psalm offers a good approach. All it takes is for us to consider the way things really are. Consider the vastness of God's work. Consider the frailty of our flesh. When we see ourselves relative to God, we, along with David in this psalm, are amazed that God is even mindful of us. Such a perspective reminds us constantly of grace: that we are made by grace, saved by grace, sustained by grace, and completely dependent on grace. The majesty of God's name and the glory and honor with which He has crowned His fallen creatures are mind-boggling. What a merciful condescension! The infinite, almighty, eternal God - the One who holds vast universes in the palm of His hand - has cared for pitifully small, broken human beings. He has even crowned us with honor. What a staggering contrast of proportions! A glimpse of it will deepen our perspective.
Understanding the vastness of God and the finiteness of humanity brings us back to sanity. Our problems become smaller than God, our plans bow to His will, and our faulty logic submits to His Word. Order is restored.
Has our perspective become distorted? Do our problems seem huge and our God small? Do we prefer our plans over His will and His Word? We should probably spend some time "considering." Contemplate His handiwork. Know our place in His creation. Observe the contrast between the majesty of the Almighty and the neediness of the weak. See the marvels of His grace. Let's let ourselves be trained in such thoughts. Let's let God shape our perspective.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
How Bad Do You Want It?
This is something that my good friend, Blair, wrote. It's something I've been guilty of (as most of us have). But I saw it as a charge, a challenge, and (with her blessing) just wanted to share it:
It's been a long time since I've written. It had to be that way so I could blow off some steam, figure things out, sort out my thoughts. For months and months now, I have struggled with being single, being lonely, and learning to trust God to be my safe place. I have become tough and independent and strong and wise. I have buried myself in mountains of work and church and leisure activities, trips with friends, volunteering, dating... I have been running. And why not? It's what I do best.
I have never felt closer to God and still farther away in all my life. Sometimes I get so righteous, wondering why God is still withholding something so precious to me when I'm trying my best to do things the right way (and for what it's worth, I've tried doing things the wrong way, too, with no different results). And then I feel guilty and throw myself into work at the church and into doing the right things and being on good behavior, thinking that more religion is just what I need. And I couldn't be more wrong.
I don't need more religion. I need more revival. And isn't that true for all of us? As Christians, we like the warm fuzzy feeling we get from going to church and singing some songs and listening intently to a sermon, sometimes even going so far as to scribble a few notes down on a scrap piece of paper that we stuff away in the 3rd chapter of the book of John and never read again. We attend on Sunday mornings on our best behavior, saying all the right things, praying for revival, and then go home. We pat ourselves on the back for being such good, obedient Christians. We mean well, don't we? Yet I've never seen good intentions set a man free.
I am convinced now more than ever that what's wrong with America and with the churches in America and with the Christians in America is not the economy. It's not politics. It's not poor schools or high taxes. It's not gambling. It's not drinking and drugs. It's not trade policies, wars, or child abuse. It's the APATHY of the Christians in America.
What has happened to the power of God? Did we stop believing in it? Did we stop claiming it? There is nothing more frustrating to me right now than the people of God trying to do the work of God without the power of God! How much longer can we go on like this?! How many more empty prayers can we lift up, asking God to send revival to us but never once truly committing to what it takes to do that? Asking God to revive our churches and restore our country isn't enough! It's not enough just to say the right things and play the right parts and I AM FURIOUS! I. HAVE. HAD. ENOUGH.
We are called to be above reproach, yet we spend countless hours entrenched in judgment of others who don't measure up to standards we feel like God would approve of. We get our feelings hurt if someone sits in our seat or if the pastor doesn't shake our hand or if we don't like the music. We would rather complain and bellyache about what's wrong with the people of the church instead of doing the one thing we're called to do - love them. Unconditionally. No matter what.
See, it doesn't matter to Jesus who someone is or who they were. It only matters to Him who they could be. He sees past the past, so I can't understand why Christians can't do the same. Quit the complaining and the judgment and just accept people for who they are - warts and all. We can't expect that God is going to rain power and revival down on us by sitting in a service on Sunday, seething with disappointment or judgment or worse - self-righteousness. He's not going to love you any more because you showed up or brought your Bible. And how quickly most of us have forgotten where we came from ourselves.
Addiction. Bitterness. Anger. Self-righteousness. Complacency. Adultery. Lying. Cheating. Stealing. Coveting. Disrepect. Disenchantment. Malice. Rudeness, lewdness, and crudeness. Jesus saves. So why are we so quick to judge those we deem "not good enough?" Is it because our reliance on religion has replaced our need for revival? How bad do you want it?
My dad taught me a long time ago that whenever you want something badly enough, you'll do just about whatever it takes to get it. If you want a new car, you save. If you want a new job, you schmooze. If you want a new girlfriend, you pursue. But how do we ask God for revival? By robbing Him of His tithes, by disappointing Him with lackluster worship, and by forgetting the very mess He rescued us from in the first place.
It's time to make up our minds, folks. We can't move forward by straddling the fence and we can't reach people for Jesus by pretending to be what we're not. We can't complete our destiny by divorcing our past. Either we want it or we don't. It's that simple.
The next time you're in church on a Sunday morning and you stand to sing another song or sit down to listen to another sermon, maybe you should start to remember. Remember who He is. Remember what He's done. And then ask yourself... how bad do you want it?
- Blair Davis
- Blair Davis
Thursday, October 21, 2010
The Pleasure of God
"I have seen you in the sanctuary and beheld your power and your glory. Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you. I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you. On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night. Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings. My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me." (Psa. 63:2-8)
When we speak of learning God's wisdom and having the mind of Christ, it often sounds like we're sitting in a sterile classroom environment. We assume that we're being mentally trained in a new way of life. We are, but it's not in a cold, calculated transfer of information; it's a warm, wonderful learning experience, a hand-in-hand adventure with a loving Father who wants us to be like Him.
With God, familiarity does not breed contempt. It breeds passion and pleasure. We can dispense with the idea that we serve a cold, hard master. We can let go of the image of the ever-unsatisfied holiness of our Creator. He has satisfied His holy requirements Himself in the person of Jesus. What's left for us is an affectionate Father who laughs when we laugh and cries when we cry. The more we get to know Him, the more we come to love Him. It is, of course, a holy and respectful kind of love - He is entirely above us and worthy of our awe. But there is a warmth to Him that many people never feel. And we are called to feel it deeply.
How would we characterize our individual relationships with God? Cold and sterile? Distant and frustrating? It need not be any of these. It can actually be - dare I suggest it? - fun.
Yes, the wisdom of God - His mind, His ways, His character - can be beautiful and charming. He is not the cruel killjoy we often make Him out to be. And that's the great tragedy of sin: It fails to understand the amazing implications of knowing Him. It turns Him into someone He's not.
Learning the wisdom of God is not just an intellectual pursuit. It is a heartfelt pleasure in His personality. The presence of the Almighty can be an emotionally satisfying affection. His character is lovely, His words are charming. Abandon the image of the stern, distant God. His wrath toward us, though entirely legitimate, was poured out on Jesus. It has been fully satisfied. Our only response is to be fully satisfied in Him.
"We never better enjoy ourselves than when we most enjoy God." - Benjamin Whichcote
When we speak of learning God's wisdom and having the mind of Christ, it often sounds like we're sitting in a sterile classroom environment. We assume that we're being mentally trained in a new way of life. We are, but it's not in a cold, calculated transfer of information; it's a warm, wonderful learning experience, a hand-in-hand adventure with a loving Father who wants us to be like Him.
With God, familiarity does not breed contempt. It breeds passion and pleasure. We can dispense with the idea that we serve a cold, hard master. We can let go of the image of the ever-unsatisfied holiness of our Creator. He has satisfied His holy requirements Himself in the person of Jesus. What's left for us is an affectionate Father who laughs when we laugh and cries when we cry. The more we get to know Him, the more we come to love Him. It is, of course, a holy and respectful kind of love - He is entirely above us and worthy of our awe. But there is a warmth to Him that many people never feel. And we are called to feel it deeply.
How would we characterize our individual relationships with God? Cold and sterile? Distant and frustrating? It need not be any of these. It can actually be - dare I suggest it? - fun.
Yes, the wisdom of God - His mind, His ways, His character - can be beautiful and charming. He is not the cruel killjoy we often make Him out to be. And that's the great tragedy of sin: It fails to understand the amazing implications of knowing Him. It turns Him into someone He's not.
Learning the wisdom of God is not just an intellectual pursuit. It is a heartfelt pleasure in His personality. The presence of the Almighty can be an emotionally satisfying affection. His character is lovely, His words are charming. Abandon the image of the stern, distant God. His wrath toward us, though entirely legitimate, was poured out on Jesus. It has been fully satisfied. Our only response is to be fully satisfied in Him.
"We never better enjoy ourselves than when we most enjoy God." - Benjamin Whichcote
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Deception's Promise and Defeat
The Promise
Jeremiah 6:13-15
Jeremiah was given a difficult assignment. He was called to preach destruction to a people who would never believe him. He knew up front that his message would fail. Other prophets would succeed with their false message. But God told Jeremiah to preach the truth anyway.
We live in an age of acceptance. Anything goes. Morality, we're told, is relative; truth is too complicated to pin down, commitment is defined by the mood of the moment, and there are many different paths to "God." Tolerance is a code word meaning, "Don't preach to me. I've got not intention of changing." The false prophets of our age have a clear, persistent message: "Peace, peace." But there is no peace.
How we wish peace would come. We pray to the Prince of Peace and ask Him to rule our lives. He does, and He will. But He will fulfill the message He preached long ago in Galilee and Judea: God will judge the human revolt, and Jesus is the only way to escape the judgment. And that's not a popular message in an age of acceptance. Nothing will bring out intolerance in the "tolerant" ones like a message of exclusive redemption. But like Jeremiah, Christendom is faced with a choice: Preach the truth, even where it goes unheeded, or lie about the condition our race is in and the judgment that awaits it - all for the sake of "peace."
Deceptions abound in our world. Most of the effective ones sound pleasant to our ears; otherwise, they would not deceive us. God's Word sounds pleasant, too, but only to repentant ears. To the pride of self-sufficiency - the drug of choice for the human ego - His Word is detested. It is as thoroughly rejected as Jeremiah was. But it is true. Our generation has brought significant challenges to our faith. Our beliefs are not for the faint of heart. But as Isaiah promised, God's truth is the only water that quenches thirst and the only bread that is filling (Isa. 55:1-3).
The Defeat
Jeremiah 17:5-13
Not only can we be deceived by the false prophets of our age, we can also be deceived by our own hearts. We often embrace lies if they are emotionally satisfying, never discerning the final result of believing them. God's wisdom takes a backseat to our affections when our affections have not been rooted in Him. The fact of the heart's treachery is a huge affront to our ego. It's a tragic affront to our Father.
Such is the nature of human wisdom. It is dark and deceptive, shifty and shallow, misdirected and myopic. It rejects the present reality of eternity for the future hope of personal glory. It builds on shifting sand. And, according to God's Word in Jeremiah, it is beyond cure!
How tragic. How scary. How can the God of hope give us such a hopeless word? How can the promise of salvation be so unpromising? How can we continue to read the Bible after we've come across this desperate declaration? How can we be redeemed?
The answer is glorious. God promises later in Jeremiah to give His people a new heart (24:7). So what if our hearts are beyond cure? They are not beyond resurrection. Our dead hearts are not reformed or healed; they are raised to new life. They are replaced with ones that are real. God says it even more precisely in Ezekiel: "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh" (36:26).
Only God can understand our hearts, and His assessment is utterly depressing if we do not know the rest of His plan. But He who discerns our deepest thoughts and most obscure deceptions (v. 10) offers us His pure and truthful Spirit to replace the corruption of our flesh. These dreaded prophecies do not end with dread, and the wisdom of God does not end with death. Those who embrace it find life - answers now, direction today, and character always.
Jeremiah 6:13-15
Jeremiah was given a difficult assignment. He was called to preach destruction to a people who would never believe him. He knew up front that his message would fail. Other prophets would succeed with their false message. But God told Jeremiah to preach the truth anyway.
We live in an age of acceptance. Anything goes. Morality, we're told, is relative; truth is too complicated to pin down, commitment is defined by the mood of the moment, and there are many different paths to "God." Tolerance is a code word meaning, "Don't preach to me. I've got not intention of changing." The false prophets of our age have a clear, persistent message: "Peace, peace." But there is no peace.
How we wish peace would come. We pray to the Prince of Peace and ask Him to rule our lives. He does, and He will. But He will fulfill the message He preached long ago in Galilee and Judea: God will judge the human revolt, and Jesus is the only way to escape the judgment. And that's not a popular message in an age of acceptance. Nothing will bring out intolerance in the "tolerant" ones like a message of exclusive redemption. But like Jeremiah, Christendom is faced with a choice: Preach the truth, even where it goes unheeded, or lie about the condition our race is in and the judgment that awaits it - all for the sake of "peace."
Deceptions abound in our world. Most of the effective ones sound pleasant to our ears; otherwise, they would not deceive us. God's Word sounds pleasant, too, but only to repentant ears. To the pride of self-sufficiency - the drug of choice for the human ego - His Word is detested. It is as thoroughly rejected as Jeremiah was. But it is true. Our generation has brought significant challenges to our faith. Our beliefs are not for the faint of heart. But as Isaiah promised, God's truth is the only water that quenches thirst and the only bread that is filling (Isa. 55:1-3).
The Defeat
Jeremiah 17:5-13
Not only can we be deceived by the false prophets of our age, we can also be deceived by our own hearts. We often embrace lies if they are emotionally satisfying, never discerning the final result of believing them. God's wisdom takes a backseat to our affections when our affections have not been rooted in Him. The fact of the heart's treachery is a huge affront to our ego. It's a tragic affront to our Father.
Such is the nature of human wisdom. It is dark and deceptive, shifty and shallow, misdirected and myopic. It rejects the present reality of eternity for the future hope of personal glory. It builds on shifting sand. And, according to God's Word in Jeremiah, it is beyond cure!
How tragic. How scary. How can the God of hope give us such a hopeless word? How can the promise of salvation be so unpromising? How can we continue to read the Bible after we've come across this desperate declaration? How can we be redeemed?
The answer is glorious. God promises later in Jeremiah to give His people a new heart (24:7). So what if our hearts are beyond cure? They are not beyond resurrection. Our dead hearts are not reformed or healed; they are raised to new life. They are replaced with ones that are real. God says it even more precisely in Ezekiel: "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh" (36:26).
Only God can understand our hearts, and His assessment is utterly depressing if we do not know the rest of His plan. But He who discerns our deepest thoughts and most obscure deceptions (v. 10) offers us His pure and truthful Spirit to replace the corruption of our flesh. These dreaded prophecies do not end with dread, and the wisdom of God does not end with death. Those who embrace it find life - answers now, direction today, and character always.
Friday, October 8, 2010
A Holy Discontentment
"For it is we who are the circumcision, we who worship by the Spirit of God, who glory in Christ Jesus, and who put no confidence in the flesh... But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the suprassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. ... I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead." (Phi. 3:3, 7-8, 10-11)
One of the very best indicators of the reality and depth and vitality of your relationship with Christ and mine is the issue of what we are content with and what we are discontent with in our lives. My answer to that tremendously important question is this: Be content with the gifts God has given you. Be discontent with the current state of your spiritual life. Be content, be happily, peacefully, and gratefully satisfied with any and every gift that our sovereign God has chosen to give you in his wisdom and love. Be discontent, zealously discontent, with your knowledge and experience of God—with the intensity with which you worship his majesty, with the depth and breadth with which you understand his truth revealed in Scripture, with the purity and holiness with which you seek his righteousness in your life, with the zeal and determination and drive with which you pursue his kingdom and its advance.
Perhaps a better term would be "holy dissatisfaction," for what I am talking about is a restless dissatisfaction with the current state of our walk with God that does not lead us into grumbling or coveting. It does not lead us into fretfulness or anxiety or hopelessness or fear. Rather this holy discontent, this holy dissatisfaction will lead us to a true humility and brokenness before the majestic and holy God whom we know so little due to our sin, and to an unquenchable thirst and a zealous desire to know and experience more of this God to the end that, in Paul's words, we might be "filled with all the fullness of God" (Eph. 3:19). That's what I long for in my own life and that's what I pray God will pour out on you all as well in great abundance.
Now this holy discontentment should be experienced in regard to the depth and vitality and richness of other relationships in our lives as well—with our marriages; with our relationships with our parents and our children; with the depth of fellowship and community among Christian brothers and sisters, in a cell group, for example; with the sincerity and fervency and practicality with which we love our neighbor, both friend and foe, as ourselves. But for us as Christians, the primary relationship in any of our lives must be with the Lord, and it is in terms of this relationship that our holy discontentment must be expressed most profoundly. That's where we see Paul's discontent in Philippians 3.
Paul's dissatisfaction came from his ability to look at himself accurately and honestly. Paul was humble enough to recognize the imperfections and sins that existed within his own being. May God pour out a spirit of humility on each of us so we too could heartily admit our own sin and weakness and imperfection. Take a long look at yourselves, brothers and sisters, in the mirror of the Word. Seasons of biblically saturated introspection are good for all of us. Now this introspection, if it is accurate and perceptive and done in integrity, will be humbling for our souls, but it will be very good for us in the long run. It will be good because a humble and accurate view of ourselves in all of our sin and imperfection is the first step in developing a holy discontentment.
There is always more of Christ to know and experience.
One of the very best indicators of the reality and depth and vitality of your relationship with Christ and mine is the issue of what we are content with and what we are discontent with in our lives. My answer to that tremendously important question is this: Be content with the gifts God has given you. Be discontent with the current state of your spiritual life. Be content, be happily, peacefully, and gratefully satisfied with any and every gift that our sovereign God has chosen to give you in his wisdom and love. Be discontent, zealously discontent, with your knowledge and experience of God—with the intensity with which you worship his majesty, with the depth and breadth with which you understand his truth revealed in Scripture, with the purity and holiness with which you seek his righteousness in your life, with the zeal and determination and drive with which you pursue his kingdom and its advance.
Perhaps a better term would be "holy dissatisfaction," for what I am talking about is a restless dissatisfaction with the current state of our walk with God that does not lead us into grumbling or coveting. It does not lead us into fretfulness or anxiety or hopelessness or fear. Rather this holy discontent, this holy dissatisfaction will lead us to a true humility and brokenness before the majestic and holy God whom we know so little due to our sin, and to an unquenchable thirst and a zealous desire to know and experience more of this God to the end that, in Paul's words, we might be "filled with all the fullness of God" (Eph. 3:19). That's what I long for in my own life and that's what I pray God will pour out on you all as well in great abundance.
Now this holy discontentment should be experienced in regard to the depth and vitality and richness of other relationships in our lives as well—with our marriages; with our relationships with our parents and our children; with the depth of fellowship and community among Christian brothers and sisters, in a cell group, for example; with the sincerity and fervency and practicality with which we love our neighbor, both friend and foe, as ourselves. But for us as Christians, the primary relationship in any of our lives must be with the Lord, and it is in terms of this relationship that our holy discontentment must be expressed most profoundly. That's where we see Paul's discontent in Philippians 3.
Paul's dissatisfaction came from his ability to look at himself accurately and honestly. Paul was humble enough to recognize the imperfections and sins that existed within his own being. May God pour out a spirit of humility on each of us so we too could heartily admit our own sin and weakness and imperfection. Take a long look at yourselves, brothers and sisters, in the mirror of the Word. Seasons of biblically saturated introspection are good for all of us. Now this introspection, if it is accurate and perceptive and done in integrity, will be humbling for our souls, but it will be very good for us in the long run. It will be good because a humble and accurate view of ourselves in all of our sin and imperfection is the first step in developing a holy discontentment.
There is always more of Christ to know and experience.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Peace Like a River
"If only you had paid attention to my commands, your peace would have been like a river, your righteousness like the waves of the sea." (Isa. 48:18)
If only. Those two words are small in their grammatical placement but enormous in their tragic implications. They mean that things could have been different. Much different. They mean that if the response of God's people had been other than it was, much heartache could have been avoided. Blessing would have flowed, but it didn't. If only.
Like Isaiah, we've spoken them, too. Everyone has regrets. That's part of living in a fallen world. We know if we had been more diligent and faithful, our lives today could be radically different than they turned out. Even if we're happy right now, we wonder what could have been and what would have been. Why? Because sooner or later we come to a melancholy realization: Life can always be better.
We seek the God of comfort to tell us why bad things have happened - why we're in debt, why we lost our job, why our family isn't a happy one, why our dreams aren't fulfilled. But deep down we know. It isn't because God let us down; it's because we let Him down. We didn't live up to His instructions. That dreaded rebellious streak that we all seem to have has led us in futile directions contrary to the explicit teaching of our Maker. We don't know what we were thinking when we went away from Him, but we want to come back. His plan is better; we know that now. We want to be restored to a place of peace like a river and righteousness like the sea.
That's the beauty of the gospel of grace. It never puts us in an unredeemable position. Whenever we say, "If only," God says, "Now you can." Maybe there are lost years, but they are past. God can redeem them for a bountiful future. The important thing is that we've learned that His voice is not demanding for His own ego but insistent for our own good. We can follow Him with trust that His way leads to peace and righteousness. We must follow Him with that trust. If we can, we'll be blessed. If only.
If only. Those two words are small in their grammatical placement but enormous in their tragic implications. They mean that things could have been different. Much different. They mean that if the response of God's people had been other than it was, much heartache could have been avoided. Blessing would have flowed, but it didn't. If only.
Like Isaiah, we've spoken them, too. Everyone has regrets. That's part of living in a fallen world. We know if we had been more diligent and faithful, our lives today could be radically different than they turned out. Even if we're happy right now, we wonder what could have been and what would have been. Why? Because sooner or later we come to a melancholy realization: Life can always be better.
We seek the God of comfort to tell us why bad things have happened - why we're in debt, why we lost our job, why our family isn't a happy one, why our dreams aren't fulfilled. But deep down we know. It isn't because God let us down; it's because we let Him down. We didn't live up to His instructions. That dreaded rebellious streak that we all seem to have has led us in futile directions contrary to the explicit teaching of our Maker. We don't know what we were thinking when we went away from Him, but we want to come back. His plan is better; we know that now. We want to be restored to a place of peace like a river and righteousness like the sea.
That's the beauty of the gospel of grace. It never puts us in an unredeemable position. Whenever we say, "If only," God says, "Now you can." Maybe there are lost years, but they are past. God can redeem them for a bountiful future. The important thing is that we've learned that His voice is not demanding for His own ego but insistent for our own good. We can follow Him with trust that His way leads to peace and righteousness. We must follow Him with that trust. If we can, we'll be blessed. If only.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Timing
"Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD." (Psa. 27:14)
Why does the Bible so insist on our waiting? We are given instruction after instruction to "wait on God." There is story after story about someone who wanted to rush Him - Abraham, Saul, Peter, and many, many more. Why are we always being told - not so subtly, either - to slow down?
Because our timing is almost invariably faster that God's. His agenda for a situation includes deep workings and intricate details. We just aim for superficial symptoms. He intends to grind His grain very, very fine - an excruciating work on our character that will not let coarseness remain. Or, to use another metaphor, He heats His ore long and hot, removing not just the impurities that can be seen with the naked eye, but all that exist. We usually don't care about such thoroughness. We want to get out of our difficult situation quickly or to achieve our successes suddenly. For us, time is of the essence. For God, time is essential.
A direct correlation to the wisdom we learn from God is the patience our hearts can tolerate. Foolishness is impatient. Wisdom knows the God who redeems us and can look patiently with hope toward His deliverance and His victory. We don't have to know how things will turn out; we know the God who is sovereign over the things.
So, what does that mean at a practical level? It means that answers to prayers often seem delayed in our own minds but are decisive in God's. It means that deliverance often seem slow to us, but to God it is already accomplished. It means that when we act on our impulses, we're violating His patient plans. It means that when our blood pressure is rising and our palms are sweating, God's voice is always saying, "Be still. Settle down. I am on My throne."
Can you hear Him? If you're in a rush, probably not. But how many times was Jesus in a rush? How often does the Word describe God as panicked? How many people who have invested their lives in Him have been let down in the end? Relax. Wait. Be strong and take heart.
Why does the Bible so insist on our waiting? We are given instruction after instruction to "wait on God." There is story after story about someone who wanted to rush Him - Abraham, Saul, Peter, and many, many more. Why are we always being told - not so subtly, either - to slow down?
Because our timing is almost invariably faster that God's. His agenda for a situation includes deep workings and intricate details. We just aim for superficial symptoms. He intends to grind His grain very, very fine - an excruciating work on our character that will not let coarseness remain. Or, to use another metaphor, He heats His ore long and hot, removing not just the impurities that can be seen with the naked eye, but all that exist. We usually don't care about such thoroughness. We want to get out of our difficult situation quickly or to achieve our successes suddenly. For us, time is of the essence. For God, time is essential.
A direct correlation to the wisdom we learn from God is the patience our hearts can tolerate. Foolishness is impatient. Wisdom knows the God who redeems us and can look patiently with hope toward His deliverance and His victory. We don't have to know how things will turn out; we know the God who is sovereign over the things.
So, what does that mean at a practical level? It means that answers to prayers often seem delayed in our own minds but are decisive in God's. It means that deliverance often seem slow to us, but to God it is already accomplished. It means that when we act on our impulses, we're violating His patient plans. It means that when our blood pressure is rising and our palms are sweating, God's voice is always saying, "Be still. Settle down. I am on My throne."
Can you hear Him? If you're in a rush, probably not. But how many times was Jesus in a rush? How often does the Word describe God as panicked? How many people who have invested their lives in Him have been let down in the end? Relax. Wait. Be strong and take heart.
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