Bow Your Knees

Today… is a new day. As I sit here in a coffee shop, my heart burns to know my Father more, to see something new in Him. Or, rather, to be able to express what it is He has been doing in my soul. So many things have brought encouragement to my heart over the last few days, not the least of which have been His Word and fellowship with believers. It always seems like a wasted opportunity when God works in my heart and I feel like I am unable to express what exactly it is He has been doing. The past few days have been calm in the midst of a storm. They have been reassuring, though so many situations and circumstances have been overwhelming. I wonder why it is that I can’t just say, I’m doing great! when people ask me how I’m doing. My mind is still stuck in the worldly way of thinking—thinking that the circumstances of the flesh hold more weight than those of the spirit. I remember talking about this with my roommate Laura last semester at Bible college—about this—dare I say need—humans feel to give the greater priority to the flesh. And I guess that makes sense—the Bible says just as much, after all. Romans alone addresses the topic of flesh versus spirit in great depth. And yet, my soul yearns. My soul yearns to be heard first, to be addressed first and treated as the more important element it is. Not to say that the flesh isn’t important; but rather, that we must first listen to the desires of our (redeemed) souls before we can listen to those of the body. That, in fact, the soul must be the means by which we address the flesh, and not the other way around. Maybe that is why this verse in Ephesians 3 has been rocking my world lately. Paul writes, “For this reason I bow my knees to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Syntactically (grammatically?) speaking, the “for this reason” could refer to either what Paul has just written or what he is about to write. But either way, I think the Christian today can take that text and apply it to his or her life. What is your reason? In light of what do you need to bow your knees to God? Is it a relationship in which you’re struggling to love? Is it a class that you’re trying to pass, or a test that you feel hopeless studying for? Is it bitterness and hurt from your past that still haunts you today? Is it anxiety and/or uncertainty about the future? For this reason—because of the very thing that is weighing you down—you are called to bow your knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. If our flesh were to react first, we would do anything but stop and bow our knees—we would be busy trying to love, trying to help, trying to fix the problems that we are in. But we live not according to the flesh, but according to the spirit. And the Holy Spirit says to us, “I see what you are going through. I see what you are struggling in. But I care for you. You can come to Me and I will give you rest from Your burdens. I see that you think your life is spiraling out of control. But, in reality, I know the plans I have for you, and these circumstances are not outside of them, for I am working all things together for Your good.” As Oswald Chambers wrote, “Paul says that [the love of God] is the reason we are more than conquerors in all these things [i.e. trials], super-victors, with a joy we would not have but for the very things which look as if they are going to overwhelm us.” What a way to look at it! The flesh sees the waves of trial bearing down on it, and despairs. But the soul—the soul sees the waves as a springboard by which to get nearer to the Father. I can’t explain how it works, other than to use the image employed by Oswald Chambers. It is the difference between an individual in the waves of an ocean with and without a board. Those without the board, without a firm surface to stand upon, will sink underneath the load of the wave. But those with the board, with a firm surface to stand upon, will rise above the wave, and rather than it being a burden, that wave will become a catalyst for exhilaration. In the same way, the Word of God and its promises through the blood of Christ to the believer becomes a board upon which we can stand during the waves of trial. Somehow, the Word transforms our experiences from natural into supernatural ones, and changes the results from disastrous to uplifting, from destructive to life-building. It still amazes me, that the very same situation can be so different depending on what you’re standing on. But Jesus changes everything without changing anything, as Jeff Stewart said. I think I’m finally understanding how it is we can rejoice in our sufferings. It seems so contrary to nature, and I suppose that is because it is contrary to nature—to human, fleshly nature at least. But what is most contrary to the flesh is exactly what we should seek in the Spirit. My mind still doesn’t want to wrap around the concept, but that is why it is according to faith ☺ This isn’t something that can be understood by the logic of the human mind—it must be seen and accepted and believed according to spiritual eyes. I pray that if you are in the midst of trial or suffering, that God would open the eyes of your spiritual understanding to see that His grip on you is tighter and stronger than the hold of any other circumstance, and that He will never let you fall. He does not grow weary or faint, and it in the very circumstances that weary and tire you that He meets you and lifts you up on wings as eagles. Praise God for His all-sufficient, all-encompassing grace!

Weakness

Today, I had one of those conversations with a friend where suddenly your life becomes clear and you understand some of the things that had been completely confusing you for weeks. Since getting home from Hungary, I’ve found that I feel so crippled and fearful all of the time. In everything I do, an overwhelming sense of fear grips my heart to the point where it is almost impossible to do anything. Even things as simple as going to class or going to church seem too overwhelming. I had attributed this mostly to readjusting to life in America—something I still think is a crucial factor—but I had a revelation on an even deeper spiritual level today.
The verse that I’ve been holding onto during this last month and a half has been 2 Corinthians 12:9—“And He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in your weakness.’” This verse was relevant because I learned so much about the grace of God while I was in Hungary, and I knew that His grace was sufficient. However, what struck me today about this verse was that we experience His grace in two ways—in His power and in our weakness. I have never experienced the grace of God as displayed in His power so radically as I did when I was in Hungary. Now, I feel I am experiencing the grace of God radically in my weakness. Right now, I’m not feeling any of God’s power—I’m feeling all of my weakness. I feel my weakness in my debilitating fear, fear that keeps me from going to group functions or even from wanting to talk to people. I feel my weakness in the broken-heartedness of missing Hungary and everyone there. I feel my weakness in the exhaustion I feel. I feel my weakness in my body, physically—in hips that are degenerating before their time. I feel my weakness in my relationship with the LORD in that I recognize I have nothing to offer Him. I am empty, and I desperately need to be filled just to wake up every morning. I feel my weakness in my silence—in not having words to speak, in not knowing what to say. I feel my weakness in school, in the Love Out Loud campaign, in my Bible study, in my church college group, in my relationships. I see and feel weakness everywhere.
I think this must be a small taste of what Job experienced. The sudden plunge from riches to poverty. In my case, however, it is mostly the plunge from spiritual riches to spiritual poverty. And yet, spiritual poverty is a deeper, and in some ways realer, richness than just experiencing His power. I have seen God move in deeper, more intimate ways than I ever saw Him move before, because I deeply feel my need for Him to move. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so weak before. Each day, however, God sustains me. He is with me in the storm. He is stripping away things from me that I didn’t even know I had. The fight is to let Him do that. Every time fear rises in my heart before going to a group event, I just have to say to myself that God will get me through. I am learning how to rely on Him for literally everything, because there is nothing that I feel capable of doing anymore.
And though it has possibly been one of the hardest months and a half of my life, I wouldn’t have it any other way, because I want the full experience of God’s grace in my life. And I love learning to rely on Him for everything, for seeing myself as I truly am and learning day in and day out that I can utterly rely on God. There is an intimacy that we are establishing where my heart rushes to Him for everything because that is all I can do. I am experiencing His presence and His love in a deeper way than ever before, because He is all I have. And that is more than enough.

Yet Believing, You Rejoice

“In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while, if need be, you have been grieved by various trials, that the genuineness of your faith, being much more precious than gold that perishes, though it is tested by fire, may be found to praise, honor, and glory at the revelation of Jesus Christ, whom having not seen, you love. Though you do not see Him, yet believing, you rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory, receiving the end of your faith—the salvation of your souls.”

I’m not going to lie. The last few weeks have been really difficult for me. My heart was torn in two almost five weeks ago now as I left Hungary to head back to America. I’ve been trying to figure it all out—trying to grasp what work the LORD did in me while I was gone and what that means for my life now. I’ve probably started to write two or three blog posts, but to no avail. The last week and a half has been particularly hard. Every day, this weight of grief pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe sometimes, and always painfully reminding me that I am separated from the country and the people that I love so much. The LORD so radically changed my relationship with Him when I was in Hungary that it is impossible for me to come to the LORD without reminder of the things He taught me there. Those truths were so pivotal and foundational in my understanding of the LORD that they have completely altered the way that I view Him and my relationship with Him. As silly as it may sound, it became particularly difficult to be in the Word and in prayer over the last week and a half because of the very fact that everything about my relationship with the LORD reminds me of Hungary.
Finally, last night at my church college group, I felt the Spirit prompting—no, demanding would probably be a better word—that I spend time with Him. I couldn’t keep ignoring Him, even if spending time with Him made me miss Hungary even more. Because, the truth was, I missed HIM. So, after we worshipped together as a group, I left to spend some time with the LORD on my own. After a kind of strenuous first hour, where I just kept asking questions and searching the Word seemingly to no avail, I came to the conclusion that though God might not answer my questions now or ever, it was okay; because I had Him, and that would be enough. But right after I wrote those words in my journal, I caught a part of the message that was going on in the main sanctuary: “Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.” It struck me to the core—I knew that I needed to just humble myself before the LORD. So much fear and doubt had been keeping me from being vulnerable before the LORD and here He was asking me to cast all my cares upon Him, for He cares for me. So I did. At first it was a little halting as I tried to figure out what exactly I wanted to say, but then my words started to flow—along with my tears. Things I hadn’t even known were “cares” of mine came up from out of my soul; I had many more cares than I realized I had.
I was content enough to give to the LORD my burdens and just to be able to feel something toward Him again. I was grateful enough to know that He loved me and listening and “put my tears in a bottle.” But the LORD didn’t just take my burden; He replaced it with His grace. At this point, I came across the passage at the beginning of this blog (1 Peter 1:6-9). One of the things that I had missed the most about Hungary was the joy inexpressible that the LORD offers. I felt I had lost that joy, that love, that peace that I had so richly in Hungary. So I came back to this passage, and read it again. But this time, a certain part stuck out to me—that this joy is in the midst of trial. Peter is instructing the LORD’s people to rejoice with “joy inexpressible and full of glory” when they are enduring various trials. How is that possible?
The LORD laid these words on my heart, as He showed me the answer—“yet believing, you rejoice.” I found myself wondering, “Believing what?” and, oh the richness of the truths there are to believe in Christ! “For all the promises of God in Christ are ‘Yes.’” [2 Corinthians 3:20]

Believe that He loves you. Believe that all things work together for good to those who love Him. Believe that He is faithful. Believe that it is His good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Believe that he whom the Son sets free will be free, indeed. Believe that there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. Believe that you are fearfully and wonderfully made. Believe that He will never leave you nor forsake you. Believe that you have not received a spirit of bondage again to fear, but a Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” Believe that He cares for you. Believe that the eyes of the LORD run to and fro throughout the earth, to show Himself strong on behalf of His own. Believe that if you ask you shall receive if you seek you shall find if you knock the door shall be opened to you. Believe that when you fall you will arise. Believe that when you sit in darkness, the LORD will be a light to you. Believe that He knows the plans He has for you. Believe that if you delight yourself in Him, He shall give you the desires of your heart. Believe that Christ became sin who knew no sin that we might become the righteousness of God in Him. Believe that while you were still a sinner, Christ died for you. Believe that you have been freed from sin and death. Believe that His Word accomplishes that which He purposes for it. Believe that you are a new creature in Christ. Believe that His grace is sufficient. Believe that His strength is made perfect in your weakness. Believe that He comes to those who are lowly and contrite. Believe that He is doing a new thing. Believe that though your sins are as scarlet, they shall be a white as snow. Believe that though weeping may endure for a night, joy comes in the morning. Believe that the sufferings of the present time are not worth comparing with that which shall be revealed in us. Believe that those whom He foreknew He predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son. Believe that He who began a good work in you will complete it in the day of Christ Jesus. Believe that He is KING of KINGS and LORD of LORDS and that He died that you might have eternal life—

BELIEVE AND REJOICE!

Closing Time

I feel like I need to write something that can close up this semester of my life in Hungary—some apt summation of the most incredible three and a half months of my life to date, using witticisms and words far too clever for me and cleanly and succinctly presenting to the world the result of my experience. And yet I am quite sure it would be impossible to do so, for a number of reasons I won’t get into, other than one: that while I may no longer be physically studying God in Hungary, God is most certainly not done teaching me about Himself and about what a life lived utterly in love with and for Him looks like.

My time in Hungary began with a promise: that God would show Himself to me in a way that I had previously been blind to or that I had previously seen with distorted vision. The thought that God wanted to clarify my view of Him in this way came from the story of the blind man that Jesus heals in Mark 8. When first Jesus touches this man’s eyes, the man says that he can see; but he specifies that he sees men as trees, walking. I saw much of myself in this man. I saw that I could, in fact, see Jesus—could see that He was my Savior, that He was my only Hope, that His cross was the only way, and that He was my Lord and Master. But I knew there was something missing; that what I was seeing was incomplete at best, and dangerously misinformed at worst. As Hudson Taylor wrote in a letter to his sister, “All the time I felt assured that there was in Christ all I needed, but the practical question was—how to get it out. He was rich truly, but I was poor; He was strong, but I weak. I knew full well that there was in the root, the stem, abundant fatness, but how to get it into my puny little branch was the question.” Since I began my Christian walk, I have felt assured that there was in Christ all I needed; but, indeed, I sensed that I wasn’t fully experiencing His perfect satisfaction.

It turns out that God answered this promise by opening my eyes to see His grace—to see Him and to see myself in the proper Light, and to have the veil lifted and the dawn begin to rise on the beautiful horizon of His boundless love. My first clue in this direction came during one of my classes. I have searched my notes high and low for this quote, but to no avail. Nevertheless, I distinctly recall one day about six weeks into my time in Hungary sitting in one of my classes (I think it was our morning devotions, but I’m not sure) and hearing these words come out of the mouth of the speaker: “Without knowing the grace of God, it is impossible to have an undistorted view of God.” In the moment, my brain fleetingly registered the words “undistorted,” “view,” and “grace of God”; but the press of daily life soon shoved aside the small question and hope that had formed in my mind.

As the semester progressed, we came upon our ten-day outreach and speaker’s week. Both of these challenged me and stretched me in ways that I had never experienced challenge before. Over ten-day outreach, God showed me what I now see to be His grace as displayed in His faithfulness. As His servant, He taught me that He is faithful to do in us that which He has called us to do. He showed me the blessing of service when it comes from love for Him and is done in His strength and power. During speaker’s week, He taught me what I now see is the grace of a relationship with Him—that He wants to know me, and wants me to know Him.

In all of these things, He was preparing my heart to see clearly what He has spoken all along—that “the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works” (Titus 2:11-14). And how the grace of God appeared to me! I finally understand, I think, the beautiful hymn Amazing Grace—“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me! I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see.”

The final preparations the Lord did in my heart occurred on the weekend I wrote about a few blog entries ago, in a post entitled “Why Christians Need the Gospel.” I was made keenly aware of my deep depravity during that weekend. I almost couldn’t believe some of the things that I was thinking and barely keeping myself from speaking that weekend. Step one of understanding grace? Seeing myself in the proper light. That weekend, God gently reprimanded me for my pride, and showed me myself in all of my ugliness and sin. It so upset me and even startled me that I actually recall feeling almost dizzy with the revelation of it. That drew me to His gospel, as I wrote about, and I started to wonder how it was possible that I could truly be a new creature in Christ, as 2 Corinthians 5:17 says. That verse, though breathtakingly beautiful, had always seemed too good to be true, and had more nearly broken my heart than encouraged it. I realized earlier in the semester that I had always thought of myself as a fixed old creature, rather than as an entirely new creature. Now, as I came to this verse again, in light of my new and more accurate understanding of who I was, it seemed even more impossible. I saw that I still depended on myself, to a certain extent, for my “right standing” before God. If I did well by being obedient or saying no to temptation or sharing the gospel with someone, I patted myself on the back and felt at peace with God. However, nothing could silence the condemnation when I sinned—when I gave into temptation, or was too cowardly to share the gospel, or lied, or let someone down. As you might imagine, my life was a rollercoaster of delight and dread, of feeling secure one moment and the next completely unstable.

So I came hesitantly to this verse once again, and found myself wondering what it meant to be “in” Christ. As I looked it up on Blue Letter Bible, that hopeful expectation that had been born so many weeks ago in my heart was stirred. The following is what I found, and my response to it:

“2 Corinthians 5:17—“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.”

“In” (Gk. ἐν) Definition: In, by, with etc. Root word: A primary preposition denoting (fixed) position (in place, time or state), and (by implication) instrumentality (medially or constructively), i.e. a relation of rest.

What a definition! To be in Christ means that I am fixed, steadfast, steady, sure, unchangingly in Him. And, in Him means that my instrumentality, purpose, and role in life is also intimately associated with Him. Who I am and what I do are at rest in Christ. Who I am (all that I am) and what I do (all that I do) are at rest in Jesus Christ, just as Christ Jesus is at rest in the Father, and as He is in me. In the midst of everything of this life, the Unchanging One (I AM THAT I AM) is in me, and as He is immutable, so He is in me; as He is faithful, so He is in me; as He is mighty, so He is in me; as He is holy, so He is in me; as He is righteous, so He is in me. I am at rest in Christ.”

What glorious grace He demonstrated to me in those moments! I felt much as I imagine Christian in Pilgrim’s Progress must have felt upon first seeing the Cross—unimaginable relief as my burden fell away from my back. No longer would I need to be tossed to and fro by the waves of circumstance, or emotion, or fear! No longer would I have the unbearable load of condemnation, nor the unbearable load of pride, fastened to my back. No, those burdens had all been relieved by finally seeing Christ’s cross and His grace for what it truly was, is, and always will be—an everlasting place of the sweetest rest. It is in Christ’s finished work on the Cross, and that alone, that we rest. It is the Cross that makes me righteous or unrighteous; it is the Cross that makes me accepted or condemned; it is the Cross that makes me adopted or estranged; it is the Cross that determines my eternal and temporal standing. No sin is so great that it drains Calvary of its grace; no good work is so good that it outshines Calvary. I am who I am because of the Cross of Jesus Christ. I am righteous, accepted in the Beloved. I am a daughter of the King, a sister of the Savior. As Hudson Taylor wrote in that same letter to his sister, “It is a wonderful thing to be really one with a risen and exalted Savior, to be a member of Christ!”

As the beautiful Light dawned in my mind, so many other things that God had been showing me throughout the semester clicked into place. The time that He had healed me of self-loathing and hatred for my person and my appearance, He had used the verse Psalm 116:7—“Return, O my soul, to your rest; for the LORD has dealt bountifully with you.” What a beautiful picture of God’s rest and grace—His bountiful dealings with us, and the open arms with which He invites us to Himself. Or His demand that “none of these things [of the world] move me”—a demand impossible apart from the grace of God, and yet perfectly plausible and even to be expected of a gracious God. Or His specific calling of me to be His daughter and to do His work—how ridiculous to think that a human could ever even serve the living God, let alone be in His family, be a precious treasure to Him! And yet, even this would-be blasphemy is miraculously acceptable because of the blood of Jesus Christ and the grace of the Father to look on Him and pardon me. The list goes on, but the thread that ties them all together is the same.

So, I suppose I have come up with a way to clearly and succinctly summarize my semester: It was a semester of having my eyes opened to the abundant riches of God’s grace in Jesus Christ. May you and I be blessed to know “the riches of His grace which He made to abound to us in all knowledge and prudence,” and may you and I never lose the wonder of the Cross and the grace there demonstrated by a loving God for His sinful creatures.

Somebody's Baby

There’s a song by Jon Foreman called “Somebody’s Baby” that has been on my mind a lot the last few days. Here are the lyrics…

She yells, “If you were homeless, sure as hell you'd be drunk

Or high or trying to get there,

Or begging for junk—

When people don't want you, they just throw you money for beer.”

Her name is November, 


She went by Autumn or Fall.


It was seven long years since the Autumn


when all of her nightmares grew fingers
and all of her dreams grew tears.

Chorus:
She's somebody's baby,

Somebody's baby girl. (x2)

And she's Somebody's baby still.

She screams, “Well, if you've never gone it alone;


Well, then go ahead—you better throw the first stone.

You got one lonely stoner waiting to bring to her knees.”

She dreams about heaven,

Remembering Hell,
as the nightmare she visits

And knows all to well—every now and again 
when she's sober,

She brushes her teeth



(Chorus)



Today was her birthday, strangely enough,

When the cops found her body at the foot of the bluff.

The anonymous caller this morning tipped off the police.

They got her ID from her dental remains—

The same fillings intact, the same nicotine stains.

The birth and the death were both over,

With no one to grieve.

(Chorus)

Yesterday, I went into Budapest with a few of my friends from the castle, and that song was stuck in my head all day. At the beginning of the day, I found myself saying aloud, “It would really be awful to be homeless here, because it’s so cold.” Later yesterday night, we were walking to the Metro station, and we walked down this street with a lot of abandoned storefronts. The sidewalk and the storefronts were shielded by an arch that kept out the cold and the snow a little bit. As we walked, I was heartbroken to see many men and women cuddled up in the abandoned store fronts under piles of blankets, trying to sleep and stay warm. This song echoed even louder in my mind as I struggled to maintain control of my emotions. One woman caught my attention, as she looked at me as I passed. I found myself muttering to myself, “She’s somebody’s baby girl—and she’s God’s baby still.” As I walked by, I smiled at her and wondered if there was something I could do to help. I didn’t want to just give her money—I wanted her to feel loved and be met in her very evident need of warmth. But, for the moment, I just continued to walk.

When we got to the metro, we dropped the boys off, and my friend Lyssandra and I sat down in a coffee shop and started to chat. As we were talking, I had the desire to just read the Word and pray, so we did. As we were praying (by this point, we had left the coffee shop and were walking back to the walking street to get dinner), Lyssandra prayed, “Lord, if there is anything we can do to help the homeless people, just lay it on our hearts right now.” At that moment, the Holy Spirit reminded me that I had thrown an extra beanie in my bag that morning for no apparent reason—I just felt like I should take it, just in case. As we passed by the same street where these men and women were sleeping, I saw her again, and went right up to her, beanie in hand. I smiled, forgetting at the moment how to say “Jesus loves you” in Hungarian (I think it’s something like “Jezus szeretlek teged”… I should figure that out), and handed her the beanie.

Later, after dinner, as Lyssandra and I were walking back to the metro to meet the guys, we passed by the woman, and I was heartbroken and blessed to see her beautiful face, with bright eyes, peaking out from beneath the hat I’d given her. She waved to me with a grin on her face.

She’s somebody’s baby girl, and she’s Somebody’s baby still.

Why Christians Need The Gospel

So, I’ll confess. I have had better weekends than this one. Here at the Bible College, each one of us is involved in practical ministry classes where we perform some sort of servant-hood activity that benefits our brothers and sisters here. My ministry this semester has been housekeeping in the coffee shop—i.e. vacuuming, dusting, and mopping the coffee shop from top to bottom every day. But, at the beginning of the semester, everyone was also assigned a weekend for which they would do what is known as “weekend team”—for the girls, this means serving six meals (breakfast, lunch, dinner on Sat/Sun) and for the guys, doing dish room for the same meals. Most students were assigned one weekend for which to be on weekend team. I, by God’s sovereignty, got two weekends—the weekend after our very first week of school, and this weekend.

This weekend, in addition to being (one of) my weekend(s) for weekend team, was also a huge conference of 100+ people, and though we were warned that there was a conference this weekend, I definitely was not prepared for how much of a trial it would be. Unbeknownst to me, this group has been to conferences here before, and, to put it nicely, are sometimes not the easiest people to deal with. In addition, the schedule for their conference was never quite set in stone, so the meals took upwards of two, two and a half hours to be fully done with. Doing the math, that is at least six hours in a day, which is almost the same as a full day of work.

This morning, I woke up exhausted and not wanting to go serve. Then, those feelings of frustration, exhaustion, and indignation just increased as I actually served. By the time breakfast was over two and a half hours later, I was on the verge of tears. I went outside and started to pray very, ehem, honestly to God. “God I am so angry! Why is this happening? Why are they being so rude? Why does this suck so much? Why did I of all people get weekend team twice? I’m SO tired,” all the while thinking in my head, “Like a sheep before its shearers is silent, so He opened not His mouth” and “Christ, who being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men” and “For even the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.” So, of course, my prayers changed from indignation to desperation. “God, I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I’m so tired. I’m so upset and frustrated. I don’t want to be. I need You so badly. There’s no way I can do this on my own. Help my unbelief!” I was fumbling through my Bible, trying to find something, anything to read, and as I was about to stop on a page, a breeze blew the page over and down, and my eyes rested on this verse: “For I have satiated the weary soul, and I have replenished every sorrowful soul” [Jeremiah 31:25]. Needless to say, this was exactly what I needed to read. But my heart was still so agitated from these feelings of anger, indignation, pride, frustration, hurt, exhaustion that I couldn’t believe it in that moment, though I wanted so badly to.

I felt this morning like a little kid fighting with my father—struggling and struggling, at first, but then becoming so exhausted and frustrated in the struggle that they just start crying. They need to be calmed, to be soothed, and they can’t help themselves at all. I am so grateful for my Father, that through all my complaining and struggling, and then helpless crying, He soothed my troubled soul, satiated my weary soul, replenished my sorrowful soul. I was defeated in my flesh, there is no doubt—but He reminded me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in your weakness.” I needed to be exhausted of my resources for Him to show Himself great in me.

This is why Christians need the Gospel. We need the Gospel because we need the reassurance that Christ has defeated the grave and in it, has defeated the sin that clings to us and wearies our souls. We need the Gospel because we need the eyes that Christ has for people—to look out on a crowd that is pushy, frustrating, and needy, when we ourselves are exhausted and weak, and see them with eyes of compassion, as sheep in need of a Shepherd. We need the Gospel because we need the humility of the Cross—of a Savior who humbled Himself to the point of death, not counting equality with God a thing to be clutched, but made Himself nothing. We need the Gospel because we need the promise that, though we fail, there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. We need the Gospel because we need a Father, and we need His Spirit of Adoption. We need the Gospel because we need strength in weakness and grace in times of testing. We need the Gospel because we can fail, but He is perfect. We need the Gospel, because the Cross gives us access to the throne room, where we can receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. We need the Gospel, because we need Him.

God's Oil

A certain woman of the wives of the sons of the prophets cried out to Elisha, saying, “Your servant my husband is dead, and you know that your servant feared the LORD. And the creditor is coming to take my two sons to be his slaves.” So Elisha said to her, “What shall I do for you? Tell me, what do you have in the house?” And she said, “Your maidservant has nothing in the house but a jar of oil.” Then he said, “God, borrow vessels from everywhere, from all your neighbors—empty vessels; do not gather just a few. And when you have come in, you shall shut the door behind you and your sons; then pour it into all those vessels, and set aside the full ones.” So she went from him and shut the door behind her and her sons, who brought the vessels to her; and she poured it out. Now it came to pass, when the vessels were full, that she said to her son, “Bring me another vessel.” And he said to her, “There is not another vessel.” So the oil ceased. [2 Kings 4:1-6]

Over the past few months, I’ve been trying to read through the Old Testament a little bit. For those of you who know my Bible-reading habits, I have always had a difficult time getting myself to read the Old Testament. I know it offers a wealth of knowledge to the believer, but for some reason, I haven’t been able to dig up anything from it. However, God has blessed me with at least the diligence to read through some of the Old Testament this semester at Bible college, and I think I’m finally breaking through the ground and getting to the treasure beneath. The story above, found in 2 Kings 4, is one of those treasures. A few things caught my eye as I was reading through, and I wanted to share them with you.

First, as Elisha comes onto the scene, something stood out to me. Elisha asked her what she had in her home, and it is that very thing, the last thing that she possessed, that he calls her to give up. Oftentimes, I think Christ works in this same way. For a non-believer, it is Christ’s taking away the last thing we were clinging to that brings us the point of desperation for His salvation. It was that way for me, at least. And even to this day, as a believer, God is constantly taking away the things I most depend on—family, friends, feelings of security or comfort—in order to show Himself great in my weakness. This oil could’ve been used for food, for lighing lamps, for anointing, or for putting on wounds, even. It was the only thing of value that she had; and yet she willingly gave it over to Elisha to use as God instructed him. I wonder sometimes if I give up those things in my life that are so valuable to me with such willingness. For example, the desire to be married is one of the things that is so important to me; yet I still find it almost impossible to give that desire over the Lord. I find myself making excuses, saying, “But this is the way it’s supposed to be! Genesis 2:24, people. Shouldn’t God give this to me? This is too important and valuable for me to give up. How, oh how, could I ever trust God with this?” Obviously, the whole thing, particularly the last part, is ridiculous. And yet this is how many of us, from what I’ve seen, act so much of the time—unwilling to give the things that are of value to us to Him. But without giving those things to God, He cannot take them and make them valuable in His eyes, make them good on a whole new level.

Which brings me to my next point. What is the one thing that described the vessels Elisha asked the woman to bring to him? Empty. In order for God to fill us up with His goodness and with the transformed desires of our heart, we must first be empty. You can’t fill a vessel that is already full. And notice when the blessing of God to this woman ended—when there was no longer an empty vessel to fill. I think this is a very crucial point. We can’t accept the blessing of God if we are still clinging to our own ideas, desires, hopes for our lives. We have to empty ourselves of them to be full of God’s desires, hopes, and blessings for our lives. And if it happens that we are plugged up with our desires or even our sin, then the blessings of God cannot come to us, in a sense. Obviously, God blesses all of us every day with life and breath and sunshine, etc. and He is not hindered or interrupted in His purposes if He chooses to do something. But for the believer, there is a very real threat of having a heart so hardened by sin or so distracted by our own thoughts and our own ways that we can miss His blessing. He desires us to choose Him and His ways and His thoughts and His worship and His plans, not to just force them on us.

This is convicting for me, for often I am so caught up in this world and in my own ideas that I don’t believe God’s plan is really better for me. But as the often quoted but under appreciated Proverbs 3:5 says, “Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding.” Trust in the LORD, trust in His vision, trust in His plans, trust in His will, trust in His purposes, trust in His desires, trust in His heart, and empty yourself of you—and you will not be disappointed in His glorious plan for your life. The things of this world are vanity apart from God. There is no good thing apart from God, nothing that is true, noble, just, pure, lovely; for every good and perfect gift is from above. Like Ecclesiastes often says, there is nothing new under the sun, and all is vain, empty, apart from God. As Paul said in front of the philosophers and thinkers at Athens, “in Him we live and move and have our being.” Or as he echoes in his letter to the Colossians, “All things were created through Him and for Him, and He is before all things, and in Him all things consist.” If only we had this all-consuming, all-encompassing vision of Christ! Pouring out a jar of oil would be nothing, for the God who makes the atoms that comprise that oil is for us, not against us. Trusting God for our finances would be simple, for the God that guides the powers of the earth and supplies the needs of His children has loved us with an everlasting love. Choosing to take up our cross would be easy, because the God who loved us so much that He sent His son to die for us has empowered us to put to death the flesh and walk in the freedom of the Spirit. Do you know the greatness of our God? He stretched out the heavens like a tent and He knows the stars by name. He brings rulers to nothing; He confuses the plans of leaders. He parts seas, calms storms, silences demons, cures disease, stops the mouths of lions, brings the dead to life. He speaks and who can turn it back? He is unchanging, everlasting, eternal, King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Prince of Peace, Alpha and Omega. This is the God of the universe. And this is the God that loves you. Trust in Him and Him alone, for He will never leave you nor forsake you.