Breakthrough.

(11.01.09, noon)

Jesus, You are Lord of all.  Neither man’s decree nor hand rises above Yours; it answers to You and submits to Your headship and authority and lordship over all — great and small, righteous and unrighteous, natural and synthetic, animate and inanimate, dead and living…all.

Are you sovereign over suicide and death?  Mysteriously, rightly, yes.

How?  Why?  I don’t know.

But I submit to the God whose ways and thoughts are higher.  To the God to whom the secret things belong.  The God who works all things for the good of those who love Him.  The God from whom, through whom, and to whom are all things.  The God who holds the king’s heart like a stream of water in His hand, turning it whichever way He pleases.  The God who commanded the wind and waves to “be still” at one time and let them blow and crash at another.  The God who instructs the sun where to stand and instructs the waves to come no further.  The God whose way was through the sea, with footprints unseen.  The God whose wisdom is deeper and surpassing that of men; the God who needs no counselor, for there is no other God Only Wise.  The God who makes even the wrath of man to praise Him.  The God who knew and loved before the foundations of the world.  The God who neither slumbers nor sleeps nor shows partiality.  The God who is holy.  The God who foreordained the death of His only Son for sinners.  The God of the resurrection.  The God who is great and worthy of praise.  Oh Lord, not a hard Master but a kind Lord, I submit to You.  I bow the knee.

You are Lord.  You are Creator.  I am Yours.  I am created.  I put my hand over my mouth.  You have done what is good.  You do and will do all things well (oh, to believe that in my heart of hearts!).  You make no mistakes.  You are not a man that You should have regrets.  Who is God Most High but You?  The Potter need not answer to the clay.  Do as You see well to do.  Give us hearts to love You, trust You, and humble ourselves before You.  Your will is good, perfect, and acceptable.

You are God.  There is no other.

How He loves.

Junior year of college, the song Who Am I? by Casting Crowns brought tremendous comfort to me during an emotional time.  Lighthouse’s orchestra was practicing it to accompany Eugene and Christine during church service, and I remember just taking the CD and sheet music to UCSD’s “underground” piano rooms and playing for hours, crying and praying my way through the song … over and over again.  In just a few weeks, we’d play it for the church, and did I believe what I was playing?  Would I rend the garment and not my heart?  God was good to give that song, among other things, during that time.  Where plain words would have been hard, truth sung and played to me brought untold comfort.

This past weekend, that “song” for me has been How He Loves by John Mark McMillan.  From what I understand, McMillan wrote it after losing a dear friend.  On Friday, I lost a dear friend, Michael — “dear” in terms of the place he had in my heart (in all our hearts) as I watched him grow from a little boy to a man who dreamed of being a teacher like his dad.  And I’ve never been so tempted to call a death “untimely” before, but this one … this one seems so untimely.  And my imagination fails me to foresee how God could possibly bring good from this, but this I know: He is good.  And He loves.  Oh, how He loves.  And sometimes, that is all we can do as we grieve: weep in the arms of our good and sovereign Abba who loves us.

I was asked yesterday to play during the offertory today at the church where we grew up, so I went to the church last night and practiced this song, How He Loves, again and again and again.  Grief and hope and pain and praise all stumbling over one another, trying to walk in harmony.  This morning, after I played for first service, I walked to the back of the church and cried with JoAnna.  It is possible to grieve and sing His truth at the same time.  And perhaps again, where plain words would be hard, truth sung and played apply the balm in just the right way.

Some songs are mostly great because of the lyrics; others are mostly great because the music expresses a yearning that words can’t articulate.  I think this is one of those songs.

How He loves.

He is jealous for me,
Loves like a hurricane,
I am a tree bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy.

When all of a sudden I am unaware of these
Afflictions eclipsed by glory.
And I realize just how beautiful You are and
How great Your affections are for me.

Oh, how He loves us.
Oh, oh, how He loves us,
How He loves us all.

And we are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes.
If His grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking.

And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest.
I don’t have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way…

Oh, how He loves us.
Oh, oh, how He loves us,
How He loves us all.

How He loves!
Yeah, He loves us,
Oh how He loves us,
Oh how He loves us,
Oh how He loves.

Please pray especially for Michael’s mom.  She’s now lost both husband and only child — and both so suddenly.  As our pastor asked us to pray today, please pray that God would heal the deep places of her heart as only He can.

Esther Lentz.

Esther Lentz was the church secretary at the church I grew up in.  But she wasn’t just the secretary.  She was the Lord’s beloved (and our church’s beloved) in every way.

She was diagnosed with brain cancer several months ago.  She was unconscious since last weekend.  But today, she finally woke up — not to an invalid’s bed, a body wracked with pain, the temptations that come with being ill, the concerned faces of loved ones, or the cares of this world.  She woke up to joy inexpressible, a new body that knows neither pain nor age, the victory of Christ over the sting of sin and death, the face of her Savior, and a lasting city where there is “no need of sun, or moon … because the Lord Himself doth lighten it.”

Praise God that death is not the end for those who love Christ.  Praise God it is the beginning of life, true life.

Praise God these aren’t just the words of delusional, wishful-thinking grievers.  We can take Him at His word and grieve with a hope that will not disappoint.

—

A brother in Christ wrote a few months ago about his mom, cancer, and her journey Home.  I pray you’re encouraged as you read (click the title, “Loss Is Gain,” below).

Loss Is Gain

Give me Jesus.

As I get older, simple things are so much more meaningful.  Minus the glitz, minus the lights, minus the bells and whistles, minus the elaborate packaging, minus the “much ado about nothing.”  Simple joys.  Simple truths.  Simple promises.  A single Treasure.  Things (Persons) that are precious and speak for themselves.  They don’t require the “much ado.”

I currently have this Jeremy Camp song on repeat.  Simple lyrics.  Simple longing, but deep — permeating.  Love it … now to live it.

In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise
Give me Jesus.

Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus.
You can have all this world,
Just give me Jesus.

When I am alone,
When I am alone,
When I am alone,
Give me Jesus.

Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus.
You can have all this world,
Just give me Jesus.

When I come to die,
When I come to die,
When I come to die,
Give me Jesus.

Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus.
You can have all this world,
Just give me Jesus.

Give me Jesus.
Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus.
You can have all this world,
You can have all this world,
You can have all this world,
Just give me Jesus.

He says stop (and rest).

Summer is making quite the exit with her heat and sunny, clear skies.  But she can’t fool us.  The sun is setting earlier, and tomorrow marks the official start of autumn — well, on the calendar at least.  :]

This past month has been one of alternating times of refining and refreshing, of tumult and rest.  The words of the hymn, Day by Day, come to mind, “He whose heart is kind beyond all measure gives unto each day what He deems best, lovingly its part of pain and pleasure, mingling toil with peace and rest.”  It’s so true.

A week or so ago, I read Elisabeth Adams’ post, Heart at Leisure, about the Sabbath and rest.  I’ve copied the following excerpts both into my journal and on my desktop, as a reminder for when my weeks become exhaustingly “busy” again:

If I could sum up what Sabbath means to me, it would take just 3 words.  He says stop.

Sabbath is God’s permission to say no to the tyranny of the urgent.  He knows I wouldn’t stop if He didn’t command me to do it.  He knows that in my world, there’s always one more thing to do.

Sometimes it seems selfish to stop.  But the greater the demands, the more I need to fill my reservoir.  When my body is begging for a break, when my temper grows short, when my resistance to temptation is getting low, I’m responsible to refill my physical, emotional, and spiritual reservoirs.  But how?  It doesn’t come through ‘me’ time, nor does it come from being pious.  (Believe me, I’ve tried).  There’s just one source, and it’s the same one that transformed those ordinary, uneducated first disciples.  They had been with Jesus.

No matter how demanding or urgent all those scheduled events, meetings, deadlines, to-do’s, and little (and great) emergencies may seem, the humble heart rests.  The worshipping heart rests with an unhurried look at the Savior.  The world will not fall apart if we should rest, for there is One who neither slumbers nor sleeps.  And it is in Him that all things hold together.

Selah.

Letters from Rachel Barkey.

A little break from the love meditations …

Reading letters from Rachel Barkey, a wife and mother in her last months of cancer, has been encouraging and sobering.  I recommend them.  She writes them on her webpage, Death Is Not Dying.

I am finding that my greatest challenge and what occupies my thoughts most these days is how to finish well. All the little things that I battle daily seem to loom larger in the waiting of each day and moment as my impatience and selfish tendencies rush to the forefront of every thought and activity.

So my challenge is to finish well. And it seems I am to do this by waiting. Appropriately, I found this verse in Lamentations:

“It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.”

Waiting. Quietly. It is a good thing apparently.

I have added it to my To Do list…

(Rachel Barkey)

Acts 20:24 revisited (not for the last time).

About a year ago, I wrote an entry about Acts 20:24.  It’s been a verse that has anchored me again and again.

But I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God.

To know Christ and to live Acts 20:24.  The rest are really details — details that must remain minute, lest life for Christ be consumed with unprofitable details.

This verse has become increasingly precious over the years as its truth has anchored me and reminded me of God-given purpose through various trials, heartbreak, disappointments, failures, and seasons of (what seemed to be His) silence.  It serves as a template of sorts in decision-making, whether circumstantial decision-making: This way or that?, or decisions of the heart and attitude: How will I respond?

I’ve found it necessary to lay aside, though sometimes with tears and much difficulty, whatever did not align with this framework of thinking and living.  And I’m still learning to do that with less of a struggle.

But perhaps Acts 20:24 was more of Spirit-aided will and principle than of passive description in the Apostle Paul’s life.  It was his relentless determination because of his relentless love for the Savior and the lost.

In light of the Savior, the gospel, and the saving of the lost, his life was of no account.  Of no value.  His life only had value inasmuch as he was given breath to finish his course and his ministry: to testify to the gospel of the grace of God.

It was a ministry given to him by the Lord Jesus.  What a precious gift.

Paul’s life was nothing — worthless — if not given to do what Jesus called him to do.  This bondservant found purpose in the proclamation of his good Master and his good Master’s message.  So, what did it matter if he had to bear labors, imprisonments, countless beatings, whippings, stoning, shipwreck, danger, toil, hardship, sleeplessness, hunger, thirst, cold, exposure, or pressure (2 Corinthians 11:23-28)?

This was no long-faced carrying of the cross or morbid obsession with self-abasement and asceticism.  This was a joyful, joyful embrace of something (Someone) greater than himself.

Your glorious cause, O God, engages our hearts
May Jesus Christ be known wherever we are
We ask not for ourselves, but for Your renown
The cross has saved us so we pray
Your kingdom come

Let Your kingdom come, let Your will be done
So that everyone might know Your Name
Let Your song be heard everywhere on earth
‘Til Your sovereign work on earth is done
Let Your kingdom come

Give us Your strength, O God, and courage to speak
Perform Your wondrous deeds
Through those who are weak
Lord, use us as You want, whatever the test
By grace we’ll preach Your gospel
‘Til our dying breath

(Lyrics by Bob Kauflin)

Redeeming the time.

I wonder how differently we would live if we really understood the brevity of life, the uncertainty of tomorrow, the urgency of the gospel message, and the imminence of Christ’s return.

Then perhaps the trivial would truly be trivial, and weighty matters would really carry some weight.  We can’t take time for granted, thinking it’s continuous when it’s actually fixed.  Time is only for a short while; eternity is not.

How will the fearful Christian answer to her Maker when she must give account for the people she feared rather than loved?  How will the pleasure-seeking Christian answer to his Maker when he must give account for the opportunities he wasted for the sake of his own pleasure?  How will the morbidly introspective Christian answer to her Maker when she must give account for the faculties (and time) she squandered on self-focused thinking?  How will the procrastinating Christian answer to his Maker when he must give account for those souls he put off with his “later”s and “next time”s?

There’s a reason Paul exhorts Timothy as a soldier and reminds the Corinthian church that they are ambassadors.  Soldiers and ambassadors are singleminded.  They know they only have so much time.

So many we see today we may never see again.  So many opportunities presented to proclaim Christ today may never come again.  (Opportunities like life and breath.)

Apart from Christ, sin actually brings condemnation.  A Christless eternity in Hell actually is the destination for those who don’t know Christ.  The day of salvation will actually end at any moment.  The day of salvation is only for a measured season, and there is no “Indian summer” to follow.

Oh, that we wouldn’t be guilty of any man’s blood on our hands because we’ve failed to tell the whole counsel of God.  That we wouldn’t sleep while it is our watch.  And if you are a believer, it is your watch … as long as you have breath.  Are you redeeming the time?  (Am I?)

I don’t know if a few raindrops were already falling as Noah began to board the animals onto the ark.  I don’t know if Noah made a last “round” to warn his neighbors and all he knew of the imminent judgment to come before entering the ark.  But if those initial raindrops did fall, I can imagine our time now is like the time of those first raindrops.  Raindrops warning of the wrath to come.  And now is the time to make the urgent call to come while the door is still open.

We don’t have a moment to lose.

“Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil.” (Ephesians 5:15-16)

Philippians 1:21.

“For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” (Philippians 1:21)

Paul didn’t write those words airily, flippantly.  He wasn’t writing from a mountain top retreat, reflecting on life and death in an abstractly glorious way.

He wrote that from prison.  He wrote that from the context of a life continually in danger for the sake of Christ.  They were weighty words.

TO LIVE: CHRIST.
TO DIE: GAIN.

I’ve been forgetting that.  I’ve been viewing life selfishly.  I’ve been clinging to life selfishly — not just my own life but others’ as well.  And in grasping for physical life, a life that is really but a breath, I lost sight of the whole point of living.  Christ.

To live is Christ.  That’s it.  That’s my life.  Christ.  My heart, my heartbeat, my continual song and theme: Christ.  (Note: I mean that more prescriptively than descriptively…)  And not just those things, but my Lord and my God.  The person of Christ.

And what of death?  Gain. Because it unites me, wholly, finally, and eternally, with the Christ who was my life.  Death ushers me into the presence of my Savior, to finally see Him with my own eyes and worship Him as I look upon Him.  It’s gain.  Unspeakable, incomparable gain.

“If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me.  Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell.  I am hard pressed between the two.  My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better …” (Philippians 1:22-23)

He was torn.  To live meant “fruitful labor,” and to die meant being with Christ, which is “far better.”  And by far, he meant the whole distance.  It’s far better.

This was his life.  TO LIVE: CHRIST.  TO DIE: GAIN.  It was simple.

It wasn’t TO LIVE: SUCCESS or TO LIVE: MAKE A NAME FOR MYSELF or TO LIVE: FIND THE LOVE OF MY LIFE AND START A FAMILY or TO LIVE: ENJOY ALL THE WORLD HAS TO OFFER BEFORE I GO or TO LIVE: AVOID PAIN AND SUFFERING AT ALL COSTS.  (Or add whatever else we might substitute for Christ.)

Not that all of these things are bad, but they weren’t the defining factor of his life.  They weren’t of first importance to him.  TO LIVE: CHRIST.

And because living was Christ, dying was gain … because dying was Christ, too.  In fact, it was Christ in His fullness, face to face!

To be honest, when I wrote my last post, I was struggling.  I was struggling mainly because I forgot the point of living and dying.  I forgot the truth of Philippians 1:21.  And I’ll probably forget it again and/or be tested on that very point.

But even in matters of life and death, health or illness, joy or pain, Jesus is better.  To live is Christ.  To die is gain.  And that right there, joy.

Jim Elliot’s prayer when he was 20.

“Lord, make my way prosperous, not that I achieve high station,
but that my life may be an exhibit to the value of knowing God.”

I don’t think it’d be cheating to say, “Lord … what he said.  Me, too.”