Christmas is For Sinners

We have a Little People nativity that sits under our tree. Despite our best efforts, it rarely is all in order. Sometimes the animals are sitting on the dining room table. Sometimes baby Jesus is riding in a dump truck. Almost always the pieces are scattered all over our house, only to be returned to the angelic scene after the kids are in bed. Our nativity scene is pretty disheveled, which in many ways is a microcosm of our current season of life.

We are just coming out of over a week of sickness in our house. What started as a bad chest cold for all three kids turned into three ear infections. I guess our motto is go big or go home when it comes to sickness, so Merry Christmas to us. We went big this time. Because of all the sickness I’ve been homebound, buried in dirty tissues, and pretty much exhausted, which is a recipe for disaster for me. I’ve been emotional. I’ve been cranky. I’ve been frustrated. And I’ve felt little Christmas cheer. I actually can’t remember what day it is, let alone remember that Christmas is coming soon.

I was lamenting to my husband the other day that, among other things, my heart doesn’t feel ready for Christmas. I haven’t had the time to stop to think about the incarnation or my own longing for Christ’s return. I haven’t even heard a full Advent sermon yet. I’m way behind on my Advent reading.  And then there is the Christmas shopping and wrapping that I still need to finish. On top of it all, I’ve hardly been a joyful person these last few days.

But Advent 2015 won’t give me a do-over, so this is what I have to work with this year. A cranky attitude, sick kids, and not enough sleep. In a lot of ways I feel too sinful to celebrate Christmas in all its fullness.

And that’s exactly why Christ came.

The hymn “Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus” says that Jesus came to release us from our sins, set us free, and provide us rest in him alone. I need a repeat dose of that this Christmas season.

I can get confused about the purpose of Christmas being all about happiness, sugar, and Hallmark movies on repeat (and I love all of those things). But that is not what my heart needs most at Christmas time. What I need is the baby that we celebrate. What I need is the rest that only Christ provides. What I need is the freedom from sin that only comes from his finished work on the cross.

Christmas is not for people who have it all together. It’s for sinners like you and me. It’s for a mom who snaps at her children because they interrupt her sleep again. It’s for people who are cranky with their spouses when they try to offer them advice. It’s for the man who yells at the driver who cuts him off. It’s for people who are greedy, people who are selfish, people who hate Christ. Christmas is for the broken and the weary. Christmas is for sinners, for all of us.

So I may not have it all together this Christmas. And neither does my nativity scene. But that’s exactly why that baby is in the manger in the first place—to set me free from my sin and give me hope beyond my circumstances.

Christmas is for sinners. And that’s good news for all of us.

The Complete Obedience of Our Christ

"Although the eternal Son, as God the Son, obeyed the Father and fulfilled what the Father willed for the Son to do prior to the incarnation, yet it was only the God-man, the human Jesus, who could obey in this way. To obey to the point of death requires the ability to die, and for this, Jesus had to be human. To be placed on a cross required that he be in a human body, and so again, this obedience required that he be fully human. But is this not the very point Paul is making--this eternal Son who was himself in very substance God and was fully equal to God, took on our human nature precisely so that he could undergo suffering, affliction, rejection, crucifixion, and death that he experienced, all because the Father had sent him to fulfill this saving mission? What a Savior is our Lord Jesus Christ. How amazing was his obedience, and how great was his love. May we cherish daily the beauty and agony of this eternal Son, becoming incarnate Son, all for the purpose of suffering death for our salvation (page 26)."

--Bruce Ware, The Man Christ Jesus: Theological Reflections on the Humanity of Christ

The Sin We Don't Speak Of

We all have that sin. The one we thought was long conquered, long forgotten, and long paid for by Christ's precious blood. Then one day it emerges, reminding us that we are not yet perfected, and riddling us with guilt. It's the sin we don't speak of. It's the sin that we are certain would cause friends to shun us, strangers to mock us, and God to turn his back on us. Everyone's is different, but the effects on us are the same. And when it rears its ugly head we are undone.

I don't know what your forgotten, unspeakable sin is. But I know mine. I know that even after years of victory it can come back without any warning, reminding me that I am still in need of a great Savior. It's good for me, really. This sin, in all its heinousness, is a reminder to my ever prideful heart that the respectable sins I live with are just as ugly as the one that I don't utter out loud. Everyone needs to be knocked down a few rungs on the ladder of our own perceived righteousness. I am no different.

In the moments of despair over the reappearance of this sin, I have been comforted by the fact that it has been paid for by Christ's atoning work at the cross. There is no more condemnation for me because Christ took all of it for me (Rom. 8:1). But practically speaking, I've learned that I need the same guttural response to my every day sins as I have to the one I hate the most. I should weep tears of brokenness with every act of rebellion against my God, and yet, I don't. I've created a hierarchy of sinfulness, stacking some at the very top of the "do not do this again" list.

In God's eyes, sin is sin. No amount of human ordering changes that for him. We have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God (Rom. 3:23). This sin is the great equalizer before him. There are no sins that are beyond his reach for cleansing and there are no sins that make us any better or worse in his eyes. Without Christ, the verdict is the same--guilty.

Oh, but the story doesn't end there. With Christ the verdict is the same--righteous. My sin (respectable and otherwise) says that there is no hope for me, and that is true. But in Christ I have a righteousness that is not my own (Phil. 3:9). I can stand free from condemnation over all of my sins, even the one that I feel is too unworthy to bring to the throne of grace.

If that is where you are today, dear sister, know that I am with you. Actually, we are all in this together. Look to Christ and trust in his perfect work on your behalf. Repent, yes. But then cling to the One who paid for all our sins--even the ones we can't speak of.

New Year, New Prayer for Faithfulness

I'm not one for New Year's resolutions. I suppose I don't like the disappointment when I don't meet my own impossible standards. But I do like to reflect on the previous year and look forward to the one ahead of me. As the year turned from 2014 to 2015 I was reading through the stories of the kings of Judah and Israel in Kings and Chronicles. It's hardly reading that will make you feel warm and fuzzy inside as you start a new year. If you are familiar with their history, after King Solomon died, Israel and Judah split into two separate kingdoms. The tribe of Judah had one set of kings. The remaining tribes of Israel had another. Every king in Israel was unfaithful to the Lord, while Judah had periodic glimpses of God's continued work.

Even in the midst of rebellion and idolatry, God was still faithful to his promises to his people. He could have wiped them out. But he didn't. He sustained the Davidic line in order to pave the way for the one true King, Jesus.

But what has stuck with me as I think about the coming year is that even the faithful kings of Judah stumbled at the end of their lives. Solomon was loved foreign women and was led astray by them (1 Kings 11:1-8). Asa failed to remove the high places (2 Chron. 16:17) and then at the end of his reign failed to repent of his sinful reliance on the Syrian King (2 Chron. 16:7-14). Jehoshaphat joined with the king of Israel (2 Chron. 20: 35-27). Amaziah did not follow the Lord with his whole heart and became a wicked king (2 Chron. 25). Uzziah became proud when he became strong (2 Chron. 26: 16). Hezekiah boasted of his successes and flaunted his resources (2 Kings 20:12-21). The list could go on.

Every one of these kings at one point followed the Lord. Every one of these kings started well. They knew the scriptures. They knew what was expected of them. Yet they fell away. As I start a new year I don't want to think that I am not susceptible to the same soul-destroying pride that pulled them away from the true God.

Of course, in all of this there is a greater story being told, isn't there? In Judah's sordid history is a scarlet thread that tells us that a greater king is coming. King Jesus never fell away. King Jesus never grew proud of his power and might. King Jesus never sinned, thus never needed to repent. So if you feel the weight of the same sobering truth, that you are prone to wonder just like me, rest in this amazing truth: the same Christ who called you will keep you. The same Christ who died for you will sustain you. The same Christ who bore the curse for you will convict you when you fall away. Left to ourselves we are just like those wicked kings of Judah, the best of intentions, but no means of fulfilling them. Christ is our means. That is a New Year's Resolution that has already been done for us.

What a great hope for a busy new year.

Waiting for the Promised Land

I've struggled with fear and anxiety all of my Christian life. In many ways it seems that when I conquer one fear, another one is lurking in the shadows. Fear is my constant enemy. I've often thought that the constant refrain of my soul is "Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief!" This is my heart's cry as I seek daily to do battle with my ever present fears.

I just finished reading the book of Joshua. As the book came to a close for me, my fears were confronted with this comforting truth:

And the Lord gave them rest on every side just as he had sworn to their fathers. Not one of all their enemies had withstood them, for the Lord had given all their enemies into their hands. Not one word of all the good promises that the Lord had made to the house of Israel had failed; all came to pass (Joshua 21:44-45).

After years of wandering, failing, and being carried by God to the land he had promised, these words came true. I imagine as the people of Israel embarked on the conquest of Canaan, and now faced the prospect of entering this unknown land, many fears could arise. But here we see that in the midst of it God is keeping his promises. Every word he spoke to their fathers proved true. Every promise he made to them from the calling of Abraham, to the fleeing of Egypt, to the wandering in the desert, not one word fell to the ground.

So what does this have to do with my fears? I have no word from the Lord about deliverance from what ails me. I have no promise that I will be freed from circumstances that terrify me. I don't know that tomorrow will go better than today, or that my children will come to faith in Christ, or that my husband and I will live to see our grandchildren. I am not an Israelite and I do not have those promises passed on to me from my parents.

But do I?

In Christ I have been given a great inheritance. I may not have promises of earthly deliverance, like the Israelites did. But I have a better one. Through Christ, God is making a people for himself today in the same way that he was in Joshua's day. Through Christ, He is keeping his word to his children in the same way he kept his word to the Israelites, but even more so. Through Christ, I have the reward of eternal life, the promise that while my earthly life may not materialize into everything I hope it to be, my heavenly one will surpass my wildest imaginations. Like the Israelites in the wilderness, I have yet to reach the Promised Land. God's promise to sustain me on my sojourn is just as real as it was for them. God's promise to give me a land of rest and glory is just as real as it was for them. Like them, I must wait for that Promised Land and trust that it is coming. But I also have something better than what they had. They had the tradition passed down from their fathers through the Law, I have the promised Son who intercedes for me and makes me like himself every day. This is my assurance that this promise is coming for me, too. Christ is my guarantee that this is not all there is.

So where do I go when my fears assail me? To Jesus, the one who purchased me with his very blood and daily lives and pleads for me before the throne of grace. He knows my fears and knows that they are not the final word on my life. I am a pilgrim on this journey, like the Israelites of old. Every word that God has spoken will be true in my life because God can only be true to himself. 

Salvation Comes Through Jesus, Not Courtney

The other night as my head hit the pillow I felt weighed down by a lingering cloud of guilt. I couldn't shake the sense that I was doing something terribly wrong, or at least not doing enough. Either by commission or omission, I was failing. But what I couldn't understand was why I felt this way on that particular evening. There were no catastrophic accidents with the twins that day. No one had a meltdown that was out of the ordinary. I hadn't lost my temper with Daniel, the boys, or anyone else who got in my way that day. By the outward looks of things I had no real reason to feel like I was missing the mark.

While it didn't look like I had a reason to repent over my actions, I did. Here is what I mean. For starters, I have noticed in the past week that I have allowed myself to grow lazy in training the boys. Instead of stopping whatever I am doing at the moment to help them in their burst of emotional outrage or fight over a stolen toy, I often stick to quick fixes without really understanding what is going on or showing them a better way. When I recounted the events of the day that particular night I was struck by my own selfish actions towards my boys. I didn't deal with them because it wasn't convenient for me. I didn't lovingly break up the fighting because I didn't want to be bothered. Immediately I was reminded of all of the biblical warnings for failing to discipline and train our children and I confessed to my husband that I was certain I had failed them for life (I'm a little dramatic at times).

But there is something less obvious that needed my swift repentance. It's the thing that I have noticed most in my own heart as I've learned this whole parenting thing.

I can't save my children and I need to stop acting like I can.

My children will be who they will be in spite of me. While I would like to think that if I just did all the right things for the necessary period of time, my kids will come out praising Jesus, but the unfortunate fact is they won't. They might, but it's not a guarantee. The promises of God are not a magic potion.

Of course, for the many biblical truths about God's sovereignty over salvation there are countless ones that talk about our need to be faithful with what he has given us. I will give an account for how I raise these boys. I have a responsibility to teach them and train them in God's ways. God's sovereignty is intertwined with my responsibility. But that doesn't mean I can save them. It doesn't mean that my every sin towards them will lead them on a swift path to destruction. It doesn't mean that my catechizing of them will lead them to repentance and faith. I obey and God gives the results.

This is incredibly freeing for an often sinful momma. But it's freeing for everyone, really. Maybe the unsaved person in your life is your brother or sister, mother or father, husband or wife, co-worker, friend, or neighbor. The truth remains. There is no other name under heaven by which men can be saved (Acts 4:12). And that name isn't Courtney (or your name). It's Jesus Christ.

We will not always present the message of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection perfectly. In fact, we often won't even come close. At times, our lives will betray the very Jesus we love. We will miss the mark with those we care about. We will sin against them. We will serve them in our own interests, not their own. But Jesus is the one who saves. The same blood that covers us can cover our loved ones, too.

There is freedom in that, my friends. When we are overwhelmed by how much we sin against our kids, our spouses, our friends, and church members we are given an opportunity to show them that Jesus saves us, too. We repent before God and them, seek forgiveness, and trust in his grace to make us more like him. Our kids will see that testimony of the power of Jesus just as evidently, if not more so, than if we had always done everything well.

I'm so thankful that Jesus saves. It gives me hope, not just for me, but for my kids, family, and friends, too. He makes dead hearts beat again. He opens blind eyes. And he alone can save even the vilest sinner.

You Mean, I'm a Sinner?!?!

I don't know anyone who enjoys being confronted in their sin. I know I don't. Sometimes the confrontation comes from a trusted friend, sometimes a sermon, or sometimes it comes from God's word. Depending on how it is delivered to us, our reaction to it varies.

I have often read the stories of the prophets and Israel through a judgmental eye. I think to myself, how can they repeatedly stiffen their neck against God and his word? In my stinging judgment, I think that if I were in their shoes surely I would repent. How could you not when promised condemnation is right around the corner? It's so easy to just repent and trust God!

Or not.

My reaction to confrontation is no different sometimes. I am confronted with my sin and I plug my ears or turn my nose up at the burning conviction that comes from a trusted friend or God's word. It's not fun being called out, but it's necessary. It's a warning shot to our souls.

That's the beauty of God's word. On the pages of holy scripture we find our souls laid bare. Scripture gets us in ways we don't even realize. When we read God's word we are not an external spectator who knows a better way now, as if we don't still struggle with the very same sins. Ecclesiastes says there is nothing new under the sun, and that is no more clearer than it is in God's word. There are no new sins, just sins repackaged for a particular culture, person, and context. This gives us hope. While we see ourselves in all our ugliness diagnosed rightly in God's word, we also find the solution. The same solution that was given to the rebellious Israelites is true for us.

Turn to God in repentance and find hope.

The hope for me when I'm confronted with my sin is that God has made a way. The judgment is not the final story. Christ is. So when I'm discouraged by the accurate diagnosis of the depths of my sin, I can also be confronted with the amazing reality that Christ has paid it all.

The bible is both the diagnosis of our problem and the perfect solution. Christ is all we need.

So, yes, I am a great sinner--the bible tells me so. But I also have a great savior.

I'm a Quitter

It's true. I am a lifelong quitter. It started in adolescence when I would repeatedly sign up for activities that I really thought were my life's calling. Dance. Gymnastics. Softball. Swimming. Volleyball. It only took a short while to realize that flexibility, coordination, and athletic prowess were nowhere to be found in my gene pool. So I quit.

But there were other things I quit, too. Over time I recognized that music and the arts were where my talent flourished. So I did what any ambitious teen would do and I took guitar lessons. When my fingers started hurting and I missed my favorite shows for practice, I quit that, too. Twice, in fact. I lost a part in a musical once because I decided to go to my friend's lake house for the weekend rather than attend practice for the try outs.

I quit things not just because of my lack of ability, though that is a factor sometimes. I regularly quit because it just gets too hard or I lose interest. I am not one for perseverance.

As I've grown as a Christian I have seen this come out in greater degree. When a relationship is strained or difficult, I want out. When I face push back from people over my beliefs or a decision I make, I want to retreat. When I face another sleepless night because my children are sick, I want to crawl into a hole and stay there for a few days. Escapism, in many ways, has always been my comfort. But this is not the way of the Christian. Endurance and perseverance is a key component of the Christian life. The Bible says that only those who persevere to the end will be saved (Matt. 24:13). God takes our perseverance seriously.

But life is hard isn't it? A quick survey of the news reveals that there is enough going on even today that would make anyone want to throw in the towel. And if you add our personal lives to the mix, you have a recipe for a dozen quitters. What I've grown to understand, though, is that my quitting nature reveals something tragic about my understanding of this life.

I want this to be it.

When it is easy, I soak it up. When it is hard, I want out. My actions reveal that deep down I think this life is it. I live for right now, not the future. But everything about the Christian life is about enduring for the future--to the end. Being a Christian is a call to persevere. As harsh as this sounds to my quitting ears, quitters don't make it to the last day because they fail to persevere. They prove they were never saved in the first place.

Perseverance requires a long-term view--an ability to see what is unseen and to rest in that. This is how quitters like me can persevere. It is not because of my own strength, but because of the strength that God supplies and the eyes of faith he gives us to see the end result. Perseverance is about faith, not circumstances. When I quit, I am trusting in circumstances. In my mind, it's not working out. I'm not happy. I'm uncomfortable. It's too hard. I take a short-term view of my life, rather than a long-term one. But when I have faith, I am resting in the One who knows and controls the outcome of my circumstances.

When Jesus told his disciples what to expect from this life in Luke 21, I imagine quitting seemed like an attractive option. If someone told me to expect persecution and betrayal, the escapist in me would be running for the nearest exit. But that is what Jesus promises to us, too, if we are his. The same tribulation he warned them about is our story as well.

But it is not the final word.

Luke 21:19 is a promise to us:

By your endurance, you will gain your lives.

Though we lose our lives in the trial, we gain them by the endurance. No one knew this better than Jesus. He faced the ultimate betrayal and persecution so in our weakest moments we could rest on his work to bring us to the end. Just like Jesus gained his life back through his patient endurance of the cross, so we gain our eternal lives by leaning in to his perfect endurance on our behalf.

The Christian life is not for the quitter. I know that now. It is something I will probably have to overcome my entire life. But there is a day coming where my weak faith will be sight and my limping endurance will bring me to the finish line--where I will see my Christ and there will be no more need for struggling faith because I will be home.

On Trusting Well

Last week, I talked about waiting well this Advent season. But Advent is not just about waiting well, it's also about trusting well. Nowhere do we see this more clearly than in the story of Mary, the mother of Jesus.

Imagine being a teenage girl, a virgin at that, and suddenly being told (by an angel) that you are going to become pregnant. And not just pregnant, but pregnant by God. And not just pregnant by God, but pregnant with God incarnate. I remember being a teenager and I don't know how I would have handled that news. Most likely way worse than Mary did.

In a few short moments, Mary's entire world was turned upside down. She was betrothed to a man. She was suddenly pregnant with a baby that did not come from this man. And in her culture this was a literal death sentence. In an instant, she was faced with the possibility of sudden death or lifelong banishment from society.

Yet, how does she respond?

"Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word" (Luke 1:38).

Here, in these short verses, Mary is exhibiting great trust in God and his word. She is not questioning God or his plan. She is not fretting over what could happen to her. She is not talking back or trying to control the situation. She is simply trusting God and taking him at his word.

Wherever you are this Christmas season, you most likely are in a time of having to trust God. The same God who was worthy of Mary's trust is worthy of yours as well. The God who came to earth and fulfilled all of his promises through his own birth, death, and resurrection still speaks today.

Mary, like Zechariah and Elizabeth, was waiting on this promised Messiah. When her circumstances looked at best uncertain, and at worst very dire, she trusted in the God who fulfills all of his promises. May we have faith to do the same.

On Waiting Well

I mentioned last week that I am going to be writing a brief series on the wonder of Christmas. The Gospel accounts of Christ's birth never cease to amaze me. Every year I find myself overwhelmed by all that God reveals to us through these short verses in the Bible.

One such story that moves me is the one of Zechariah and Elizabeth. During our period of infertility (brief by their standards!) this story ministered to me in so many ways. In that time period, to be barren was a cultural death sentence. To be unable to bring a child into the world meant you were viewed as cursed. Yet, they remained faithful. Luke 1:6 tells us:

"And they were both righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statues of the Lord."

I can only imagine what years of infertility would do to a person and their trust in God. It can go two ways, can't it? You can either renounce God for his perceived failure to give you what you've asked for, or you can trust him for his good plan for your life. Zechariah and Elizabeth did the latter. And  God remembered them.

And isn't that just like God--to wait until the man-made attempts at anything are completely out of the question? There was no physical way possible for Elizabeth to conceive, and yet she did. God keeps his promises.

So what does it look like to wait well this Advent season, and every season? Luke goes on to say that Zechariah continued to serve in his role as priest (vs. 8). And he continued to pray. In all of his years of longing and waiting for God to open his wife's womb, in his old age he remained faithful. Faithfulness is measured by the daily obedience's. It is seen over the long haul, when hope seems gone and circumstances are overwhelming. Faithfulness is seen in trusting in the One who keeps us faithful to the end. That is what Zechariah and Elizabeth did. Every year, when God seemed to be forgetting them yet again, they continued to trust him.

But they didn't just trust him for their personal lives. They trusted him for the salvation of their own people as well. I don't think it is a coincidence that the waiting of Zechariah and Elizabeth for a child is placed within the greater story of the people of Israel waiting on their Messiah. They weren't just waiting for a baby. They were waiting for God to fulfill his promises to them through the long-awaited Christ. Their righteousness before God was evidenced by their faithfulness in waiting for both of these things when many around them would (and had) long given up.

We can learn a lot from them about waiting well. Whether we are waiting for God to answer a personal prayer or a collective prayer for his return, we are all waiting for something. Do we give up when it feels like it's never going to be realized in our lifetime? Or do we continue to entrust ourselves to the God who hears and answers every prayer in his time?

May we all learn to wait well this Advent season and in the years to come.

The Wonder of the Incarnation

Christmas is my favorite time of year. I love Christmas so much that I have been known to bust out the Christmas music in October. My husband loves Thanksgiving, so he makes sure we don't let his favorite holiday get eclipsed by the Christmas creep. If it were up to me, we would start spreading the Christmas cheer November 1. But alas.

As I've gotten older, Christmas has become more and more meaningful to me. Maybe it's the abundance of childhood memories I can draw upon every time I decorate the Christmas tree with thirty years worth of ornaments from my mom. Maybe it's the excitement of watching (and reciting) A Charlie Brown Christmas one more time. But I think it's something even more than that. Christmas continues to move me because I've grown in my love for the Savior we celebrate. Christmas moves me because, as our pastor said last Sunday, it's about the greatest miracle that ever happened--the eternal Word became flesh. God became a man. And not just a man, but a baby.

The wonder of Christmas for me is not in the traditions, decorating, presents, or even time with family (though these are all wonderful blessings I greatly enjoy). The wonder of Christmas is in the amazing reality of the incarnation. The God who made and sustains everything humbled himself by becoming a little baby so he could rescue us from our sins.

What good news!

So as I begin this Advent season, I want to take this in and treasure it for all it is worth. I want to marvel at the kindness of God to send his Son for us. I want to worship at the feet of this Christ, who made himself nothing so we could have everything. I want to sing the familiar Christmas tunes with greater zeal because my heart has been stirred to see Christ in greater measure. And I want to long for his return again.

Christmas is truly the most wonderful time of the year.

Because Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year (in my opinion!), this is the first in a series of posts about the wonder and anticipation of Christmas. Stay tuned for more!

Finding Joy Again

Many of us can remember a time in our life when we experienced great joy in the Lord. Perhaps it was at the time of your conversion, or in the months after. Your eyes are suddenly opened to the truth of God's word. You see Christ as supremely valuable. And you can't get enough of learning about the glories of Christ. Joy is abounding.

We have all been around new believers and seen their excitement. In many ways, the zeal they have for the Lord reminds us of young lovers. It's new. It's endless. And they want nothing more than to spend every waking moment with the One who purchased them and made them a new creation. New love is the same way. Weddings have a way of reminding us of the love we have for our own spouse. Why? Because weddings are full of joy, anticipation, and fresh encounters with love. It's infectious.

But we all can relate to feeling dry and brittle towards the Lord, too. If we were truly honest, we often look longingly at our early days as a believer and long for the fresh zeal and wonder that captured our hearts. Like a wife who is losing affection for her husband, we know acutely what it feels like to go to God's word and feel nothing. The early days of anticipation and abundant emotions are fading fast.

The psalmist, David, understood this human predicament well. Whether our dryness is owing to sin, circumstances, or a combination of it all, there are many days where we need God to restore to us the joy of our own salvation (Psalm 51:12). We come to him in prayer and in his word and we cry out for something, anything, that will resemble the joy we know is possible.

But here is the promise. God will do it. Maybe not in the moment. Maybe not even in the month. But he will give us joy. With each passing day of slowly plugging along, we must not give up hope. The dryness of today will give way to the unending joy of tomorrow if we simply trust that the God who gave us joy once will surely give it again. Even more than that, in the driest of moments he is sustaining us. David knew that he didn't just need God to restore his joy, but he also needed grace for each passing day. Sometimes God acts immediately, making our hearts alive to him again. And sometimes, he holds back. But he never leaves us alone. His grace is sustaining us even in the darkness.

So if you find yourself asking God for a renewed sense of wonder at all he has done for you in Christ, and you come up shorter than you had hoped, take heart, dear Christian. The coldness of today is not the end of the story. Faithfulness is key. And God will act. In the same way that he gave you a new heart and joy in his salvation the first time, he will do it still.

Faithfulness and Legalism

People often use Galatians in the fight against legalism, and rightfully so. In the letter, Paul is combating legalism in the lives of the Galatian Christians. Many of them are abandoning the true gospel of Jesus Christ for Judaism. They would rather work to earn their salvation than trust in the grace of Christ’s atoning work. But these days it seems the legalism label gets slapped on anything that smells of telling someone else what God requires of them. As one who tends towards legalism, I understand the dangers of believing your good works can save you. I know what it’s like to prefer a list over faith in the work of Another. I know what it’s like to turn down my nose at someone who does things differently than me, or worse does things that I have deemed unacceptable in God’s eyes (but really isn’t as bad as I think). And to turn the finger even more towards me, I know what it’s like to swell with sinful pride over my own perceived good Christian behavior, if that’s even possible.

But what concerns me about the quickness to call many things legalism is that I think it’s missing a larger point, and one that Paul makes repeatedly in Galatians. Legalism is the belief that your good works save you. Legalism is the belief that obedience to the law, whether it’s God’s law or another law, is what secures your salvation. The Jewish people believed their faith rested on this obedience. They were wrong all along.

Paul is not writing to the Galatians encouraging them to abandon obedience to God or even good works. In fact, he spends a good part of Galatians 5 talking about obedience. He even goes so far as to distinguish between walking by the Spirit and walking by the flesh. In Paul’s (and God’s) eyes those are two very different things. Galatians 5:16-24 says:

 

“But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, for these are opposed to each other, to keep you from doing the things you want to do. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law. Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God. But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.”

Essentially Paul is saying that if we are saved by Christ, and indwelt by the Holy Spirit, there will be a distinctiveness to our life—i.e. good works. This doesn’t mean those works save us, make us better than others, or even give us grounds for boasting. Rather those good works prove that we were even saved to begin with. Those who “inherit the kingdom of God” are those who are redeemed by Christ. Our obedience is not our ticket to heaven bought by us. It’s our proof of purchase, and Christ is the one who purchased us.

 

My concern with the quickness to define any call to obedience or faithfulness as legalism is that it misses the reason for which we were called—to give God glory. God gets all the glory when we walk humbly with him. Our meager lives of faithfulness tell a wonderful story of what God has done in our lives through Christ. When we diminish faithfulness to the Savior we diminish that testimony.

Paul knew better than anybody what it was like to be tempted to boast in his own righteousness. He was a former Jewish leader who rarely did anything wrong in the world’s eyes. But instead of telling Christians to let grace be grace, namely abandon the law, he tells them to do something even greater. He tells them to walk by the Spirit. He tells them to put on love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. These things defy the law because they are impossible to do on our own, which is why he tells us again in Galatians 6:9 to “not grow weary in doing good.” Christians are called to good works. Christians should expect faithfulness of one another. Christians should want to live according to the fruit of the Spirit. But Christians also know that apart from Christ all our faithfulness is in vain.

 

Legalism is a serious sin with serious consequences. But so is lack of faithfulness. Both acts lead to disastrous conclusions. As Christians, we should fight them both with the very weapons Paul uses, namely the Holy Spirit. It is only through his abundant work that we will be able to stand against legalism and licentiousness in our own hearts.

True Freedom

"To enjoy thee is life eternal, and to enjoy is to know. Keep me in the freedom of experiencing thy salvation continually." - Valley of Vision

Last year, my husband and I had some Muslim friends over for dinner. We had spent the entire semester getting to know them through a ministry that our church is involved in that helps them learn English. As eager young students in America for the first time, they loved hearing about all things USA, even our religion. Of course, that meant that we also would hear about their religion, which we happily obliged. We were intrigued as they talked about the many facets of Islam, many of which I had never heard before. But one statement really stayed with me, and still is with me today:

"At the end of your life you can only hope that you have done enough good for Allah to allow you into heaven."

That sobered me. In that moment it hit me--they have no assurance of their own salvation. They have no way of knowing whether or not they will spend eternity in heaven or hell. They are strictly at the mercy of a god who reserves the right to turn them away if he thinks they aren't good enough.

Christianity is the only religion that promises the exact opposite. Yes, it gives us the condemnation that we are utterly sinful and unable to save ourselves. But it also delivers good news. Someone else paid the penalty for us. And not just anyone, it was God himself.

Micah 7:18 tells us that God blots out our transgressions. This is true freedom, not that we can save ourselves, but that our gracious and merciful God saves us from ourselves. We are free because of Christ's atoning blood.

What our friends are blinded to is the reality that no amount of good will ever be enough. And yet, deep down I think they know that. They are constantly hoping and working to do enough good, all the while wondering if it will ever be enough. They are in bondage to their own quest for good works. God tells us that we are free because of Christ's good work. We can rest in his goodness and know that it saves and sanctifies us and will one day carry us to glory.

The different between Christianity and all other religions is that Christianity promises that you are free in Christ. Only by the Savior's precious blood can you be truly free, free at last.

How Christians Approach Death: Post at Her.meneutics

Like many of you, I was heartbroken over the December shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Connecticut. As a mom pregnant with two little boys, all I could think about were those parents who went searching for their children only to find out they had been killed by a mad man. I wanted to know the names of these children. I wanted to know how to pray for these families. And my heart continued to break more and more.

One mother of the slain children wrote about the process of identifying her son. It is difficult to read, but moving as you get a glimpse of a mother's love even as she views her son's lifeless body. Her decision to come forward caused a journalist to write about how we owe it to these families to listen to their stories, even the gruesome ones. And I agree.

I wrote a post last week at Her.meneutics that ties her assertions to our responsibility as Christians to grieve with people. Here is an excerpt:

"When Lazarus died Jesus went to him even when he was warned that the smell of his dead friend's body would be overpowering (John 11:38-40). Not even a decomposing body could deter him because he knew that he had power over death. As those who trust in this Christ who has victory over death, we owe it to the grieving not to run from death but to run towards it with them, to look death in the face and walk with them in their pain. But also to acknowledge, like Jesus did, that for those who are in Christ that this death does not have the final word (John 11:4).

Not only did Jesus choose to face the death of his friend, but he willing took on flesh in order to defeat death and sin. Jesus became a human being who could die so that little ones, like Noah Pozner, would one day be whole and new—and unstained by the atrocities that ripped them from this world.

 

As Christians we can look at death and refuse to turn our faces away because we know the One who conquered death by his own and is coming again to make all things new (Rev. 21:5). We owe it to grieving families to enter their pain and hear their stories."

 

You can read the rest here.

The Darkness Does Not Win

“In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” –John 1:4-5

 

John 1 is my favorite Christmas passage. The wonder of God becoming flesh is so evident in these verses. And it never gets old to me. John 1 seems especially fitting in light of the recent events in Connecticut. At first glance, darkness seems to be winning. But if John is right, and I believe he is, the perceived triumph of darkness is only an illusion.

 

In darkness, loss, and evil the light of Christ in the lives of his people can never be put out. Christ only shines brighter when evil gets darker. Think of how much darkness surrounded the Christmas story. The murderous rage of Herod threatened to kill baby Jesus before he even made it out of diapers. His mother and father couldn’t even find a decent place to bring him into this world. He faced an obscure and scandalous birth and yet, his light still shone brightly. And the darkness of the cross was always looming behind the infant cries, shepherds’ wonder, and wise men’s gifts. But the message of John is that this Light, made flesh in a helpless baby, would overcome all of the darkness.

 

Darkness is no match for the Light of the World.

 

The good news for us this Christmas, and every day, is that the darkness will not win in our life either. The greatest display of his victory over darkness is seen at the cross. When darkness covered the entire land at the crucifixion, greater things were happening than could be seen in that moment. It seemed like darkness was winning, but Christ, the baby born in Bethlehem, the God-man was single-handedly conquering sin and death. In that moment every darkness we will ever face, whether the darkness of our sin or the darkness of our suffering, was overcome by this Christ. This is what was happening when the Light descended to earth as a little baby.

 

Isaiah prophesied that the people who walked in darkness had seen a great light (Isaiah 9:2). He goes on to tell us who this light is:

“For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given;
and the government shall be upon his shoulder,
and his name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Of the increase of his government and of peace
there will be no end,
on the throne of David and over his kingdom,
to establish it and to uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
from this time forth and forevermore.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this” (Isaiah 9:6-7)

This is who we celebrate this Christmas. And this is who we hope in when darkness seems to hide his work. We, his people, once walked in darkness and have now seen a great light.

Whatever darkness you might be facing this Christmas, whether it’s your own sin or unexplained suffering, John 1 is true for you. The God who made the universe came to earth to defeat the darkness that threatens to undo us. And the good news is this—he has already won. Christmas is the beginning of the victory march. And Easter is not far around the corner.

Remembering the Wonder of Christmas

I have been working through the Advent book that Desiring God put out this Christmas and have really been enjoying it. It's a doable amount of reading for the day, but it is packed full of truth and insights that I have often overlooked (or completely missed) in the accounts of Jesus' birth. Simeon's prophesy about Christ's life really struck me when I read it again a few days ago.

When Simeon prophesied that baby Jesus would be the cause of the fall and rising of many in Israel he was speaking of us, too. Some will hate him and some will follow him. And while it was abundantly clear at his incarnation that this was true, it's also true in our world today.

We sing of good news of great joy, but we must recognize that this great joy is only for those who have eyes to see. The excitement and wonder of Christmas is just an illusion for those who are blinded to the deity of Christ. That's why it is so serious for those who miss it. It's not just that they have made Christmas too commercial. It's that they have traded the glory of God for a lie. Romans 1 is alive and well in millions of households on Christmas morning. Instead of treasuring the greatest gift of all, our Christ, they marvel and wonder at new gadgets, toys, and stuff that will be outdated in a few months. They worship the created rather than the Creator. As John Piper said, "Christmas is an indictment before it becomes a delight." Even an indictment clouded by presents, parties, and decorations is still an indictment.

But the danger for Christians is to miss it just like everyone else. While we are no longer under God's judgment and have been given eyes to see the wonder that is Christmas, it's easy to get distracted and forget why we celebrate. Don't get me wrong, presents and traditions are not inherently sinful. Just because we buy presents for our family members doesn't mean we are missing the spirit of Christmas. But it's easy to be mesmerized by everything but the Savior at Christmas time. It's easy to spend more time thinking about our annual Christmas letter, shopping lists, and cookies that need baking rather than quieting our hearts to remember this Savior who came as a baby.

So how do we celebrate amidst all of the chaos of the season? How do we avoid making an idol out of traditions rather than letting our traditions serve to stir our affections for Christ?  Noel Piper has this to say about our traditions at Christmas:

"May our decorations, gifts, and festivities--or lack of them--never block our view of him but always point us toward him" (Treasuring Christ in our Traditions, 88).

As Christians, the way we prevent Christmas from becoming just an illusion of wonder is to remember the reason for our traditions. We delight in giving gifts because God has given us the greatest gift of all, Jesus. We enjoy our family because this is another reminder of the precious gifts he lavishes on us. We eat good food and thank him for the ability to taste and enjoy pieces of his creation. These are all good things. What sets us apart from those for whom Christmas is an stumbling block is that we have eyes to see the Giver of all these things. We don't celebrate the stuff. We celebrate the One who makes this all possible. And most importantly, we celebrate the salvation that was secured for us through this little baby born many years ago.

Christmas in a Time of Plenty

I have heard it said that it is sometimes harder to focus on Christ in times of blessing than in times of suffering. Suffering has a way of squeezing us, of showing us what is important. Suffering brings us to our knees and forces us to see Christ amidst the pain. And while it is never a path we would choose for ourselves, we know that without it we would not be as conformed into the image of Christ. Suffering is a necessary part of the Christian life, designed by a good God to make us more like him. Blessing can do that for us too, but it takes a little more work, and it’s easy to get lost in the blessing and miss the One who provides every good thing for us. I know it is for me, at least.

This Christmas season looks quite different than the past two Christmases in our family. And if I were completely honest, I miss the hopeful longing that filled my heart in those years. There is something about suffering and loss that makes you depend on Christ in deeper ways. The words of Scripture have such a profound meaning when they are speaking directly to the deep ache in your soul. Christmas in those years, while painful, was also a time of tremendous growth and trust in our Savior. I had to work hard at believing that God’s promise to work good in my life was true. I had to fight for joy in this Christ even when all of my expectations for the season were not met again. This year is the exact opposite.

If you had told me last Christmas that we would be expecting two boys in the coming months I would have probably laughed at you. I couldn’t fathom that pregnancy would happen for us. I couldn’t imagine that our Christmas holidays would be filled with anything but deep longing for God to hear our prayers and give us a child. And now that I am on the other side of that longing, I am finding myself fighting to turn my heart towards the very One I cried out to so many times these past few years.

So how do we celebrate Christmas in a time of plenty? Maybe you are finally free of a painful trial that has plagued you for years. Maybe you are surrounded by family and friends who love you dearly. Maybe your heart is full of joy over all that God has done for you this year. How do you remember the reason for all of your abundant blessings when your cup is overflowing with good things from the Lord?

The stories of the barren women in Scripture have always ministered greatly to me. Their testimonies of faithfulness remind me that pain and loss do not mean bitterness and turning from God. But what has meant more to me this year is their response when God removed their stain of childlessness. When their life turned from empty to plenty they still worshipped and praised the God of it all. They recognized that the same God who closed their wombs saw fit to open them when he did. And it brought them to their knees. Luke records that Elizabeth gave God the glory for her pregnancy. She rejoiced that God saw fit to open her womb, and even her friends were able to rejoice with her. Elizabeth lived the majority of her life barren, yet she praised God in the time of wanting and the time of plenty (Luke 1:24, 57-58). The blessing did not mean that she failed to praise God. In fact, the blessing only heightened her worship of the Creator for his kindness towards her.

Elizabeth likely never forgot all that God did in her life. And not just in giving her a son, but also in the years of waiting. What made her able to praise God in the blessing? God was there not just in her blessing, but in the years of her deepest longings, too. Zechariah and Elizabeth were godly people, who did not depart from following God even into their old age. They saw him work in their lives over many decades. He had surely shown himself faithful to them time and time again. The plenty likely meant so much more to them because they remembered the lean years of barrenness.

That is how we feel this Christmas. While we felt complete and blessed last Christmas, there was still a longing in our hearts for a child. And now here we are. We don’t want to miss the opportunity to worship our great God in these moments of plenty either. God is the author of our barrenness and our plenty. He gives and he takes away. This Christmas we are humbled that he has seen fit to give to us more than we could have even imagined possible.

Christmas in times of plenty might look a little different than in years of wanting, but God never does. He is the same yesterday and today. He is a God who delights to give good gifts to his children, and those gifts come in a variety of packages. Last year, we were given the gift of suffering; this year, the gift of blessing. This Christmas, I don’t want to miss the chance to wonder at his goodness and kindness towards us not only in the answered prayers, but more importantly in the fulfillment of the promise that the greatest gift of all has come. His name is Jesus. He is the answer for all of our longings, and our blessings, too.

A Merciful God

For most of my Christian life I have always seen Elijah as this stalwart of the Christian faith. He stood against the ungodly, heralded truth when it was unpopular, and lived much of his life alone because of his work ministering to an idolatrous people. He certainly was a man who loved God and wanted God's people to love him too. Even his life ended in a spectacular scene with chariots of fire coming down from heaven whisking him away to glory (2 Kings 2:11-12).

Elijah was not your ordinary man.

Or was he?

Even though I have read of his life on a number of occasions, this morning I was struck by how his ministry ended. While I recognize that his life ended in a far more eventful way than I will ever witness in my lifetime (unless Jesus comes back), he didn't exactly model resolute trust in God up until his final breath.

Elijah had a hard road ahead of him. After dealing with the prophets of Baal he was a wanted man. Jezebel wanted him dead (1 Kings 19:1-3). The Israelites were not too fond of him. And as far as the book of Kings goes, he was pretty much alone. Being a prophet of the living God was a high and lonely task. So we find him hiding from it all (1 Kings 19:4-18). And who can blame him? Even after God confronts him in the cave Elijah never seems to fully recover the days of grandeur even though he continues ministering God's word. In a lot of ways that time in the cave was a pivotal moment in his ministry. It signaled the ending of his ministry and the beginning of Elisha's. When God called Elisha to follow Elijah, Elisha's enthusiasm stands in stark contrast to the lack of enthusiasm on the part of Elijah (1 Kings 19:19-21).

We aren't given the information behind his demeanor. He had spent a lot of time alone. He was persecuted for his ministry. And even when God was providing a companion and successor for him it was surely hard to see it. When Elisha came along he was at a very low point in his ministry.

I find this particularly comforting. Here is Elijah, a man who was given the task of bringing God's word to people, and he struggles to trust the very God he proclaims. He had seen God work in mighty ways, yet when the pressure of his life began closing in he believed the circumstances rather than the character of his God.

How often am I like that?

Now you could say that I have not seen God work like Elijah did, but as I've pondered Elijah's life I've begun to realize that I've actually seen him work in far more abundant ways. I live on the opposite side of the Cross. Elijah only had the hope that God would one day defeat his enemies through a promised Messiah. I have been changed by this Messiah. Elijah only had the hope that God would keep his promises to his people. I know because of Christ that every word God has ever spoken finds it's "yes" and "amen" in this Christ.

I have more reason to hope and trust because Christ has come.

But what moves me even more about Elijah's story is the abundant mercy of God. Elijah didn't deserve a successor. Elijah didn't deserve a response from God. And Elijah certainly didn't deserve such an amazing departure from his earthly life. But God did it anyway. I am faithless just like Elijah, and yet God does not repay me according to my unbelief. Instead he gives me more reason to believe that he is a good and trustworthy Savior.

Some might think that the imperfect men in the Bible discredit these precious words, when in fact they actually do the very opposite. They give truth to these words. The steady thread throughout the entire Scriptures is that we serve a merciful and gracious God. Salvation belongs to him alone. Put that truth next to fallen human beings like Elijah, Abraham, and even me, and God gets so much more glory because of it. I'm thankful for men like Elijah, not only because of the work they did for God's name, but also for the testimony they serve for people like me even after all these years.

The Cross Leads Us to Worship

I've been slowly reading through The Gospel Primer the last few weeks. The first part of my pregnancy was so rough that I often struggled to read anything. But lately I have been able to pick it up again. I have heard nothing but good things about this book, so when Daniel bought it a few months ago I couldn't wait to read it. I'm not quite finished with it yet, but here are a couple of quotes that really ministered to me when I read them:

"The deeper I go into the gospel, the more I comprehend and confess aloud the depth of my sinfulness. A gruesome death like the one that Christ endured for me would only be required for one who is exceedingly sinful and unable to appease a holy God. Consequently, whenever I consider the necessity and manner of His death, along with the love and selflessness behind it, I am laid bare and utterly exposed for the sinner I am. Such an awareness of my sinfulness does not drag me down, but actually serves to lift me up by magnifying my appreciation of God's forgiving grace in my life" (33).

"The Cross also exposes me before the eyes of people, informing them of the depth of my depravity. If I wanted others to think highly of me, I would conceal the fact that a shameful slaughter of the perfect Son of God was required that I might be saved...Thankfully, the more exposed I see that I am by the Cross, the more I find myself opening up to others about ongoing issues of sin in my life. (Why would anyone be shocked to hear of my struggles with past and present sin when the Cross already told them I am a desperately sinful person" (34).

What Jesus accomplished for us on the Cross frees us to be honest about who we are as sinful human beings. But in turn it enables us to worship him abundantly because of that amazing work done on our behalf. This is good news!