Jon Bloom is the Executive Director of Desiring God.

Read this very brief article in the China Daily (China's official English language newspaper). It's the testimony of a university student who converted to Christianity.

Now if you've been following China for any length of time you might be picking your jaw up off the floor. Get this: 

• The official and highly controlled newspaper of the Communist government is featuring a story of a religious conversion of an exceptionally bright university student who found meaninglessness in existence apart from God. 
• He was given a Bible by a colleague, and the reader is not led to believe this is a bad thing. 
• He converted to Christ after reading it and now is experiencing fulfillment. 
• And he's now happily attending an unregistered church (i.e house church).  

Whoa.

We know the church is unregistered because yesterday the China Daily ran an article on house churches that are thriving in Beijing and featured that church. In fact, this particular unregistered church has actually been allowed to purchase property for a church building. 

This doesn't discount the fact that persecution still occurs in China. But we need to let this news soak in. This little article is huge. God is doing something incredible in that great nation.

Keep praying.

Genesis chapters 37-41 only tell the low and high points of Joseph’s Egyptian slavery and imprisonment. But he spent at least 12 years there before he suddenly became Prime Minister. And during that terribly lonely, desolate time, things seemed to go from bad to worse.

This imaginative reflection takes place about 9 years into his sojourn.

*               *               *

Darkness had swallowed the light again. Joseph dreaded the night in this foul Egyptian hellhole. It was hard to fight off the relentless hopelessness as he awaited the escape of sleep.

Day after monotonous day passed with no sign of change. The familiar desperation surged hot in his chest. His youth was seeping out the cracks of his cage. He was pacing in his soul. Joseph wanted to scream.

Fists to his forehead he pleaded again with God in the dark for deliverance.

And he remembered. It was the remembering that kept his hope alive and bitterness at bay.

He rehearsed the stories of God that had filled him with awe as a child. God had promised Great-grandfather, Abraham, a child by his barren wife. But he made them wait an agonizing 25 years before giving them Grandfather Isaac. And God had promised Grandmother Rebekah that her older twin, Uncle Esau, would serve the younger twin, Father Jacob. But God had mysteriously woven human deception and immorality into his plan to make that happen.

Jacob’s smile filled Joseph’s mind. O Father. He covered his mouth to choke back his sobs. It had been 9 years since he last saw that dear face. Would he ever again? Was Father still alive?

He felt something crawl across his leg. Leaping up, he brushed himself off. He shook out the mat. A shiver ran down his spine. Joseph hated spiders. 

Laying back down he remembered how Father Jacob had been caught in his Uncle Laban’s manipulative web for 20 long years. Yet God was faithful to his word and eventually delivered Jacob and brought him back to the Promised Land a wealthy man.

And then there were those strange dreams. They had been unusually powerful, unlike any others before or since. He felt ambivalent about them. They likely were the reason he was now in Egypt. His brothers’ envy of his father’s favor turned homicidal when he inferred that he had God’s favor as well.

Distant screams let Joseph know another fight had broken out in the barracks. It made him grateful for his private cell, the favor bestowed on the chief scribe to the warden.

He smiled at the irony of this “favor.” His brothers would love this if they knew. He seemed about as far away from what those dreams foretold as he could be.

Yet, as foolish as it seemed right now, Joseph could not shake the deep conviction that God meant to bring those dreams to pass. And he could not deny the strange pattern he saw in God’s dealings with his forebears. God made stunning promises and then ordained time and circumstances to work in such ways as to make the promises seem impossible to fulfill. And then God moved.

The common thread Joseph traced through all the stories, the one thing God seemed to honor and bless more than anything else, was faith. Abraham trusted God’s word. Isaac trusted God’s word. Rebekah trusted God’s word. Jacob trusted God’s word. All of them ultimately saw God’s faithfulness to his promises, despite circumstances and their own failings.

Faith-fueled peace doused the anxious fire in Joseph’s chest. “I trust you, my God,” he whispered. “Like my forefathers, I will wait for you. I have no idea what my being in an Egyptian prison has to do with your purposes. But I will keep honoring you here where you have placed me. Bring your word to pass as it seems best to you. I am yours. Use me!”

*               *               *

In the biblical account it’s tempting to only see Joseph’s heroic character and achievements. But God does not want us to miss the largely silent, desperate years Joseph endured.

Imagine the pain of his brothers’ betrayal, the separation from his father, the horror of slavery, the seduction and false accusation by Potiphar’s wife, and the desperation he felt as his youth passed away in prison.

Sometimes faithfulness to God and his word sets us on a course where circumstances get worse, not better. It is then that knowing God’s promises and his ways are crucial. Faith in God’s future grace for us is what sustains us in those desperate moments.

We all love the fairytale ending of Joseph’s story. And we should, because Joseph’s life is a foreshadowing of a heavenly reality. God sent his Son to die and be raised in order to set his children “free indeed” (John 8:36). There is coming a day when those who are faithful, even to death (Revelation 2:10) will hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master” (Matthew 25:21).

Our current circumstances, however dismal or successful, are not our story’s end. They are chapters in a much larger story that really does have a happily ever after.

God faithfully directs the paths of everyone who trusts in him with all their heart (Proverbs 3:5-6). But sometimes, as Moses experienced in Exodus 18, God directs us through a word of correction from someone else.

*               *               *

The reunion of Moses and Jethro was a sweet one. Moses was glad to have his wife and his two boys back with him. And Jethro sat astonished as Moses described the ten plagues, the pillar of God’s presence, the Red Sea deliverance, the provision of manna, and water from a rock. Jethro rejoiced in such unparalleled demonstrations of divine power and confessed God’s supremacy in everything.

Then Jethro observed his son-in-law at work. Clearly Moses was an extraordinary prophet, leader, and judge. But he was spending his whole day addressing one dispute or problem at a time. And the number of people waiting for a hearing only grew larger. Jethro could feel the rumblings of frustration. This looked like an eruption waiting to happen.

When Moses finally took a break, Jethro asked him a clarifying question: “Why do you sit alone, and all the people stand around you from morning till evening?” (v. 14). Note that Jethro did not assume his perception was completely correct. Perhaps Moses had a good reason. Asking this question was both wise and kind.

This gave Moses a chance to explain the job God had assigned to him: The Lord instructed Moses regarding the law, and Moses was then to teach the people and help them apply it to their particular situations.

That was helpful. Moses understood his calling and he was working hard to serve everyone.

Understanding this, Jethro said to Moses, “What you are doing is not good. You and the people with you will certainly wear yourselves out, for the thing is too heavy for you. You are not able to do it alone” (v. 17-18).

In other words, Moses’ mission was right but his method was wrong. Bad systems can undermine the best intentions.

Now, Moses was used to being criticized. Some faction was almost continually calling his leadership into question. But Jethro was different. He saw a problem, sought to understand it, identified the core weakness, and offered a solution (in verses 19-23) that served both Moses’ calling and the people’s needs. Jethro really wanted Moses and the people to thrive.

In this world such a counselor is rare.

That said, I imagine this correction still might have stung Moses a little. It would have stung me. Our prideful fallen natures hate to have our mistakes or weaknesses pointed out.

But Moses’ response revealed his humility. He didn’t brush Jethro off as an outsider who didn’t understand. He didn’t try to protect his reputation by lying that he’d been thinking about doing that very thing himself. And he didn’t pull rank by reminding Jethro who, between the two of them, tended to hear from God more.  Rather, Moses humbly received and immediately implemented Jethro’s counsel.

In this world such a leader is rare.

There’s something else remarkable about Moses’ response. Though he received frequent direct and detailed revelation from God, he was not narrow in his understanding of how God speaks and directs. Since God ruled everything he could just as easily direct him through a father-in-law as through a cloud.

Moses was not swayed by human opinion. But he was a man whose ear was always listening for God. He had been transformed by the renewing of his mind and by testing was able to discern what was the will of God (Romans 12:2).

*               *               *

What Jethro has to teach us about bringing godly correction to someone else:

1. First, we should identify specific ways God is working in and through that person and authentically rejoice with him or her.
2. Second, we must have in mind the good of everyone involved and be able to describe what that is.
3. Third, we should ask clarifying questions before we critique or counsel in order to accurately grasp the situation.
4. And fourth, we should be graciously specific in our correction and, if possible, work with him or her to find a helpful solution.

What Moses has to teach us about receiving correction from someone else:

1. First, all of us, even the most gifted, have areas that need correction.
2. Second, correction is an opportunity to cultivate valuing God’s glory and other people’s good above our reputation. It helps us not think more highly of ourselves than we ought to think.
3. Third, God might bring correction through an unexpected person. We should keep our ears open and communicate to others receptivity to their input.

We are never more vulnerable to sin than when we are successful, admired by others, and prosperous, as King David tragically discovered.

*               *               *

It was spring again. David once had loved warm, fragrant spring afternoons on the palace roof. But this year the scent of almond blossoms smelled like deep regret. 

David had no desire to look toward Uriah’s empty house. If only he had not looked that way a year ago. The memory throbbed with pain. His conscience had warned him to stop watching Bathsheba. But in his desire-induced inertia it had felt like he couldn’t pull himself away.

What pathetic self-deception! Couldn’t pull himself away. He would never have tolerated such a weak excuse in another man. If Nathan had unexpectedly shown up while he was leering would he have pulled himself away? O yes! Wouldn’t have risked his precious reputation!

But there on the roof alone, he had lingered. And in those minutes, sinful indulgence metastasized into a wicked, ultimately lethal plan.

David wept. His sovereign, lustful selfishness had stripped a married woman of her honor, murdered her loyal, valiant husband, and killed his own innocent baby boy. Bathsheba was now left with a desolate, hollow sadness.

And he shuddered at the Lord’s dark promise: “The sword will never depart from your house”(2 Samuel 12:10). The destruction had not run its full course.

How had he come to this?

David thought back to those harrowing years when Saul chased him around Horesh. How often had he felt desperate? Daily he had depended on God for survival. He had longed for escape and peace in those days. Now he viewed them as among the best of his life.

And then came the tumultuous, heady years of uniting Judah and Israel under his kingship and subduing their enemies. And it had all climaxed with God’s almost unbelievable promise to establish David’s throne forever.

Had a man ever been so blessed by God? Every promise to him had been kept. Everything David touched had flourished. Never had Israel as a nation been so spiritually alive, so politically stable, so wealthy, so militarily powerful.

And at the peak of this unprecedented prosperity, David had committed such heinous sin. Why? How could he have resisted so many temptations in dangerous, difficult days and then yield at the height of success?

Almost as soon as the question formed in his mind he knew the answer. Pride. Monstrous, self-obsessed pride.

Honored by his God, a hero to his people, a terror to his enemies, surrounded by fawning assistants and overflowing affluence, the poisonous weed of self-worship had grown insidiously in David’s heart. The lowly shepherd that God had plucked by sheer grace from Bethlehem’s hills to serve as king had been eclipsed in his own mind by David the Great, the savior of Israel—a man whose exalted status entitled him to special privileges.

David cupped his face in his hands as his shame washed over him again. Bathsheba’s body had been nothing more than a special privilege he had decided to bestow on himself. And in so doing he had placed himself above God, his office, his nation, Uriah’s honor and life, Bathsheba’s welfare—everything. David had sacrificed everything to the idol of himself.

David fell on his face and wept again. And he poured out his broken, contrite heart to God.

But profound hope was woven into the deep remorse David felt. Knowing he deserved death, David marveled at and worshiped God for the unfathomable depths of mercy in the words, “The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die” (2 Samuel 12:13). It took his breath away. This word had come before a single sacrifice had been offered.

This was love that surpassed knowledge.  Something miraculous was at work here, something much more powerful than horrific sin.  David wasn’t quite sure how it worked.  What he did know is that he wanted other transgressors to know the amazingly gracious ways of God.

*               *               *

The greatest enemy of our souls is the pathologically selfish pride at the core of our fallen natures. If we look deep enough, this is what we will find feeding the strong, sinful cravings of our appetites.

And this is why prosperity can be so spiritually dangerous. We tend to see our need for God more clearly in adversity. But seasons of success can be our most perilous because we are so easily deceived into thinking more highly of ourselves than we ought to think. Self-exalting pride is what leads us to usurp God’s rightful rule. We must beware this danger that lurks in blessings.

And when we sin, we must run to and not avoid the throne of grace (Hebrews 4:16). On this side of the cross we now know fully what David didn’t: God put away our sin by placing them on himself. Only at the cross will we hear, “The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die.” Ever.

Each year Christmas night finds members of my family feeling some melancholy. After weeks of anticipation, the Christmas celebrations have flashed by us and are suddenly gone. And we’re left standing, watching the Christmas taillights and music fade into the night.

But it’s possible that this moment of melancholy may be the best teaching moment of the whole season. Because as long as the beautiful gifts remain unopened around the tree and the events are still ahead of us, they can appear to be the hope we are waiting for. But when the tree is empty and events are past, we realize we are longing for a lasting hope.

So last night, as Pam and I tucked our kids into bed, we talked about a few things with them:

• Gifts and events can’t fill the soul. God gives us such things to enjoy. They are expressions of his generosity as well as ours, but gifts and celebrations themselves are not designed to satisfy. They're designed to point us to the Giver. Gifts are like sunbeams. We are not meant to love sunbeams but the Sun.
• Putting our hope in gifts will leave us empty. Many people live their lives looking for the right sunbeam to make them happy. But if we depend on anything in the world to satisfy our soul’s deepest desire, it will eventually leave us with that post-Christmas soul-ache. We will ask, “Is that all?” because we know deep down that’s not all there is. We are designed to treasure a Person, not his things.
• It is more blessed to give than receive. What kind of happiness this Christmas felt richer, getting the presents that you wanted or making someone else happy with something that you gave to them? Receiving is a blessing, but Jesus is right—giving is a greater blessing. A greedy soul lives in a small, lonely world. A generous soul lives in a wide world of love.

It’s just like God to let the glitter and flash of the celebrations (even in his honor) to pass and then to come to us in the quiet, even melancholic void they leave. Because often that’s when we are most likely to understand the hope he intends for us to have at Christmas.

(Originally posted 12/26/07)

Our good friend, Rick Gamache, preached a wonderful sermon on Isaiah 9:6 last Sunday. And he quoted C.H. Spurgeon reveling in the incarnation:

"Unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given." As Jesus Christ is a child in his human nature, he is born, begotten of the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary. He is as truly-born, as certainly a child, as any other man that ever lived upon the face of the earth. He is thus in his humanity a child born. But as Jesus Christ is God's Son, he is not born; but given, begotten of his Father from before all worlds, begotten—not made, being of the same substance with the Father. The doctrine of the eternal affiliation of Christ is to be received as an undoubted truth of our holy religion. But as to any explanation of it, no man should venture thereon, for it remaineth among the deep things of God—one of those solemn mysteries indeed, into which the angels dare not look, nor do they desire to pry into it—a mystery which we must not attempt to fathom, for it is utterly beyond the grasp of any finite being. As well might a gnat seek to drink in the ocean, as a finite creature to comprehend the Eternal God. A God whom we could understand would be no God. If we could grasp him he could not be infinite: if we could understand him, then were he not divine."

Veiled in flesh the Godhead see;
Hail th’incarnate Deity,
Pleased as man with man to dwell,
Jesus, our Emmanuel.
(Charles Wesley, "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing")

A worshipful Christmas to you all!

Very, very rarely do we mention the financing of DG on our blog. And even now, all I wish to say is this: if you've been a friend of DG for a while and are supportive of our mission, would you be willing to read a brief, one-minute update on our finances as we prepare to close out 2009?

If you are new to the DG website, feel free to pass this right over.

“The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps” (Proverbs 16:9).

As Jesus’ earthly father, Joseph, discovered in Matthew 1-2, that’s just another way of saying that when your plans are detoured and redirected, you find out who’s really charting the course.

*               *               *

Nazareth. It felt good to Joseph to be back home. The same old market and the same old merchants. The same old neighbors with the same old complaints. The same old synagogue and the same old rabbi. 

Oddly, though, the normalcy felt a bit strange after the unexpected adventures of the past couple of years. What an odyssey this simple Galilean carpenter had been on.

It had all started with Mary’s world-shaking pregnancy announcement that took an angel to help him believe. He had hardly stopped reeling from that news when he was hit with the census decree from Rome.

Joseph recalled the anger he had felt. Some vain emperor a world away was ordering people to go to their ancestral cities to register. As a descendent of King David, this meant for Joseph a royal 100-mile walk to Bethlehem. It seemed outrageously unjust. Not only would this disrupt his business and incur travel expenses they could not afford, but Mary would be in advanced pregnancy!

He remembered venting his exasperation to a friend who had replied, “Surely the Messiah will come soon and deliver us from these tyrants!” And then to cheer Joseph had added, “Hey, maybe you’ll see the Messiah there! You know what the prophet said,

But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah, who are too little to be among the clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel, whose coming forth is from of old, from ancient days.” (Micah 5:2)

His friend might as well have hit Joseph on the head with a plank. All at once he saw it! Augustus in all his imperial pomp was merely a tool in the hand of God to fulfill Scripture. His anger melted into awe-filled joy. Yes, Joseph most certainly would see the Messiah in Bethlehem.

In fact, after Jesus’ incredible birth, Joseph had fully expected to make Bethlehem their new permanent home. Surely that’s what Micah meant. And he had just started to get his business going when the angel of his dreams came again, shortly after the Persian magi visited. “Flee to Egypt and remain there until I tell you.” Herod wanted to murder their baby!

Joseph had felt anger rise against Herod. And he felt a stab of fear. The Egyptian border was another 100-mile foot journey for his wife and child, mostly through desert.

But he quickly remembered. If Augustus was God’s tool, what was Herod? God had his reasons to send his Son to Egypt. So Joseph snuck his family out of town in the cover of night.

Egypt. That was one place Joseph had never expected to see, much less live in. He hadn’t had any idea how he would feed and house his family there. But he need not have worried. God provided wonderfully for them like he had all along. 

And then after a few months another dream and another commission: Herod had died and he was to take the child back to Israel. Joseph assumed this meant returning to Bethlehem.

But he soon learned that Herod’s son, Archelaus, was ruling over Judea. Archelaus was a sharp chip off the cruel block. If he got wind of a Messiah in Bethlehem, no doubt another assassination would be attempted. One more angelic dream visit and it was back to Nazareth.

And who knew how long that would last…

*               *               *

The Holy Family’s first few years were not tranquil. They were filled with grueling travel during the hardest part of pregnancy, a birth in worse than a barn, no steady income, an assassination attempt, two desert crossings on foot with an infant, living in a foreign country, waiting on God for guidance and provisions just in the nick of time. It was difficult, expensive, time-consuming, career-delaying and full of uncertainty.

And it was God’s will.

The unplanned, inefficient detours of our lives are planned by God. They are common for disciples, and they commonly don’t make sense in the moment. But God’s ways are not our ways because our lives are about him, not about us. He is orchestrating far more than we know in every unexpected event and delay.

So when you find yourself suddenly moving in a direction you had not planned, take heart, hold tight, and trust God’s navigation.

Someone asked a great question in response to my post last week on Simon the Pharisee:

Much like the two sons in the prodigal son story, how necessary is it to be the younger son to appreciate the Father?

In other words, do we have to sin more grossly in order to be able to comprehend how much we have been forgiven so that we can "love much"? 

It seems to me that self-righteousness poses challenges that are similar to wealth in terms of how hard it is to get into the kingdom. If you think you are righteous on your own, you don't believe you need the forgiveness Jesus has to offer. If you are wealthy, you do not need the treasures Jesus has to offer. The poor and the more outwardly sinful often can more clearly see their need for the Savior. 

But the wonderful thing about the gospel is that Jesus came to deliver both the prodigals and the older brothers in their respective slavery to sin. It takes a miracle to be delivered from both blinding sinful self-righteousness and blinding sinful indulgence. 

One great word of hope for "older brother" types is that the person Jesus chose to write most of the New Testament and to be the great champion of God's grace was Paul, who had excelled all his contemporaries in his "older brotherly" zeal. And one reason I think Jesus did this is to show us that God certainly can help older brothers see how much they have been forgiven and therefore love much (Philippians 3:2-10).

So for all of us relatively well-behaved older brothers: "With man it is impossible, but not with God. For all things are possible with God" (Mark 10:27).

He had the Holy One of Israel in his house, reclining at his table. The Prophet that Moses had foretold was sharing dinner with him. The Lord of glory, the Resurrection and the Life, was speaking with him face to face. The great climactic moment of history he claimed to be living for had arrived. It should have been a deliriously wonderful, breathtaking honor for Simon to host the Messiah.

But Simon was not amazed.  As he looked at Jesus, all he saw was a dusty Nazarene whose claims could be interpreted as delusional.

And Jesus’ feet were still dirty. Offering foot washing to guests had been a deeply ingrained custom for Near Eastern peoples for thousands of years. To not offer it was to dishonor one’s guest. It’s not likely that Simon simply forgot.

But Jesus showed no sign of offense. And with the meal on the table, superficial pleasantries were exchanged. A few polite questions were asked.

Suddenly all eyes facing Jesus were filled with confused concern, focused toward his feet. Jesus looked back.

A woman was standing near him, clearly not part of the household. She was looking intensely at him, cradling a small jar in her hands. She began to sob and dropped to her knees. And as her tears flowed, she leaned over and let them drop on Jesus’ soiled feet and wiped them off, along with the dirt, with her hair. Then she kissed Jesus’ feet.

Gasps and mutterings were heard around the table. This woman had a reputation known to all the local guests. It was improper even to speak openly about what had given her this reputation. She was simply called a “sinner.” Everyone knew what was packed into that word.

So everyone was mortified by this sinner’s actions, except Jesus, apparently. He did not seem shocked. And he did nothing to stop her. An alarmed servant moved toward the woman but Simon waved him off. This was a revealing moment.

As Simon watched the woman pour fragrant oil from her jar on Jesus’ feet, he felt both contempt and pleasure. His appraisal of Jesus was being vindicated before his eyes. Nothing spoke more eloquently of the falseness of this so-called prophet than his stunning lack of discernment regarding this immoral woman. No holy man would have let her pollute him with her touch. He began to rehearse what he would report to the Council.

“Simon, I have something to say to you.” Jesus’ words snapped Simon’s attention back. “Say it, Teacher,” he replied.

“A certain moneylender had two debtors. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they could not pay, he cancelled the debt of both. Now which of them will love him more?”

Simon answered, “The one, I suppose, for whom he cancelled the larger debt.” And he said to him, “You have judged rightly.”

Then turning toward the woman he said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.”

And then Jesus spoke to the woman: “Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” (Quotes from Luke 7:40-49)

*               *               *

“He who is forgiven little, loves little.” This little statement reveals a mammoth truth for us: We will love God to the degree that we recognize the magnitude of our sins and the immensity of God’s grace to forgive them.

As a Pharisee, Simon likely had learned significant theological, memorized extensive portions of Scripture, exercised rigorous self-discipline, tithed meticulously, spent much time “serving” God, and enjoyed a reputation as a godly man. And yet he did not love God.

The woman, however, who had nothing to offer except shameful sin, was described by Jesus as a model for true worship. Why? Simply because she knew how desperately she needed the forgiveness Jesus offered in his gospel, and she believed that he could grant it.

That is what Jesus is looking for. That is the faith that saves.

True worship is a passionate love for God. And, for sinners like us, the fuel of that love is a profound realization, in the words of former slave trader-turned-pastor, John Newton, “that I am a great sinner, and that Christ is a great Saviour.”

Did you wake up not feeling like reading your Bible and praying? How many times today have you had to battle not feeling like doing things you know would be good for you?

While it’s true that this is our indwelling sin that we must repent of and fight against, there’s more going on.

Think about this strange pattern that occurs over and over in just about every area of life:

• Good food requires discipline to prepare and eat while junk food tends to be the most tasty, addictive, and convenient.
• Keeping the body healthy and strong requires frequent deliberate discomfort while it only takes constant comfort to go to pot.
• You have to make yourself pick up that nourishing theological book while watching a movie can feel so inviting.
• You frequently have to force yourself to get to devotions and prayer while sleeping, reading the sports, and checking Facebook seems effortless.
• To play beautiful music requires thousands of hours of tedious practice.
• To excel in sports requires monotonous drills ad nauseum.
• It takes years and years of schooling just to make certain opportunities possible.
• This goes on and on.

The pattern is this: the greater joys are obtained through struggle and pain, while brief, unsatisfying, and often destructive joys are right at our fingertips. Why is this?

Because, in great mercy, God is showing us everywhere, in things that are just shadows of heavenly things, that there is a great reward for those who struggle through (Hebrews 10:32-35). He is reminding us repeatedly each day to walk by faith and not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:7).

Each struggle is an invitation by God to follow in the footsteps of his Son, “who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:2).

Those who are spiritually blind only see futility in these things. But for those who have eyes to see, God has woven hope (faith in future grace) right into the futility of creation (Romans 8:20-21). Each struggle is a pointer saying, “Look! Look to the real Joy set before you!”

So when you don’t feel like doing what you know is best for you, take heart and don’t give in. Your Father is pointing you to the reward he has planned for all who endure to the end (Matthew 24:13).

For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:17-18)

We tend to think of following Jesus as leaving behind the familiar for the unfamiliar. But sometimes, like for the man in Luke 8:26-39, the more difficult call is to go back home.

For the first time in a long time he was in full control of his mind. He could think! No rage. No fear. No torment. Peace like the quiet sea. He actually wanted to keep his clothes on.

But the most strangely wonderful thing of all was his sense of cleanness. His soul was clean.

The tomb-man from Gadara looked up at Jesus again. His lucid mind mulled over the words, “Son of the Most High God.”

Who would have thought that the Son of God looked so much like other Jewish men? He wasn’t very big. The tomb-man had beaten off much larger men in his demonic rages.

It was, in fact, his demons that had recognized Jesus. Son of God was their term. What was it that they saw? In all his tormented years, he had never felt anything like the terror that coursed through him when he saw Jesus get out of the boat. It was the terror of the damned. He had thought he’d been living in hell already. Now he knew better.

And now, with the demons gone, nothing he had ever experienced came close to the safety and peace he felt simply being near Jesus. He had only known Jesus for a few hours, but had already determined to be Jesus’ disciple for life. Life with him would be heaven on earth.

The man looked out on the Tiberius. Pig carcasses were washing ashore and drifting out to sea. He shivered at the disturbing memory. He felt Jesus’ reassuring hand on his shoulder.  

A noise made them all turn back toward the hill. A small crowd of people was approaching, with the pig herdsmen leading the way. You could hear alarm in their voices.  

A few men went on to survey the dead floating herd. But the rest stopped some twenty feet away. Everyone strained for a look at the tomb-man. He recognized most of them.

He was used to seeing fear in their eyes. But it was different this time. As a herdsman recounted what happened, they kept looking at him and then to Jesus. It was Jesus they were afraid of.

The crowd’s murmuring crescendoed into anxious pleas: “Please leave! We don’t want any more trouble here!” Some were already hurrying back toward the city. For years the tomb-man, this one-man barracks of a thousand devils, had terrorized them. And now here was someone even more powerful. Whatever witchcraft Jesus possessed, they wanted it far away from them.

The tomb-man felt confusion and grief. They didn’t understand! Jesus wasn’t anything like the demons. Jesus’ power was clean, holy. Jesus was potently kind. They were jumping to the wrong conclusions. If they would just listen to what he had to say...

But Jesus motioned to Peter to ready the boat. He was leaving!

The man jumped up and said to him, “Sir, please, may I go with you? I’ll follow you anywhere!”

Jesus looked hard at him without speaking. Then he put his reassuring hand on the man’s shoulder again and said, “Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.”

The words “return to your home” must have made this man’s heart sink. Home for him was not a warm place of sentimental memories. Home was a place of memories so dark and pain-filled that he likely just wanted to escape them and never go back.

But sometimes following Jesus means being sent back to a place where we once knew desolation and indescribable pain. The thought of returning there conjures up fears of our old demons and the people who knew us as we were back then. But it is there that the grace of God in our lives will shine the brightest.

What Jesus wants us to know is that his salvation and his protection extend to those old, horrible haunts. If he can break the death-grip Satan once had on us and set us free, then he can redeem the places of our former slavery and make them showcases of God’s omnipotent grace.

Do not be afraid. The Good Shepherd will walk with you and protect you on the darkest road (Psalm 23:4). Declare how much God has done for you. You are being sent because there are other tomb-people to free.

The New Testament makes essential things crystal clear: "there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name [besides Jesus] under heaven given among men by which we must be saved" (Acts 4:12). Deny that and you deny the gospel. 

But the New Testament also has a category of gospel-informed convictions which are deeply held, sometimes strongly commended, yet are not universal mandates. These are intended by God to shape our kingdom mindset, guard against temptation, and test our hearts. But they are also meant to be adaptable to our particular calling and context. 

One example was Paul's conviction that he should go to extraordinary lengths to keep money from being a hindrance to the gospel.

Now, we know that in the Gospels (see Matthew 10:8), Acts (see Acts 8:20), and the Epistles (see 2 Corinthians. 2:17) Jesus and the apostles were all very careful to keep gospel ministry from becoming, in either reality or others' perception, a means of great personal financial gain (1 Timothy 6:5).

But we also know that Paul and Barnabas went to greater lengths than other apostles in this area. 

Or is it only Barnabas and I who have no right to refrain from working for a living? Who serves as a soldier at his own expense? Who plants a vineyard without eating any of its fruit?... If we have sown spiritual things among you, is it too much if we reap material things from you? If others share this rightful claim on you, do not we even more? Nevertheless, we have not made use of this right, but we endure anything rather than put an obstacle in the way of the gospel of Christ.... What then is my reward? That in my preaching I may present the gospel free of charge, so as not to make full use of my right in the gospel. (1 Corinthians 9:6-7; 11-12; 18)

Two things are clear in the way Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 9:

1. He strongly believed that this strategy contributed to the spread of the gospel most effectively.
2. He was aware that not everyone did it the way he did. Paul recognized that there were legitimate ways of making a living off the gospel. He simply discerned that foregoing his right to make such a living was more fruitful, whether because of his particular missional context or in general.

No doubt Paul was a strong advocate for his "make it free" ministry philosophy. But he did not judge other apostles for not adopting it to the same degree he did. He knew that "each [person] will give an account of himself to God" (Romans 14:12).

And it's in that spirit that we talk about our "make it free" approach to ministry, as Matt Perman did in his post yesterday.

I loved the post and said amen to every point Matt made. But when explaining and commending such convictions, which are not Scriptural mandates, one can wonder if we are sinfully judging others who do things differently. That certainly is not our intention.

The Lord has his hand on many churches and ancillary ministries whose approach is different from ours and which are producing very good fruit. And even comparing our approach with Paul's makes me blush. We are not in his league when it comes to foregoing rights and suffering for the gospel.

So do not hear from us the message that you must do what we do to do it right. Every calling and context is different. "Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind" (Romans 14:5).

But having said that, we still commend to all to "make it free" as much as possible, and here's why:

The gospel came to us free at great cost to God. Which is why, I believe, Jesus told his disciples, "You received without pay, give without pay" (Matthew 10:8).

The medium of the gospel was to be a reflection of the gospel. When the gospel comes free to people at the cost of those who are bringing it, it says something wonderful. It says that there is a treasure that is worth more than money to be had and by removing even a perceived profit motive it often makes people want to listen. 

God is doing an amazing and beautiful thing in our day by bringing about a recovery of and revived love for the gospel of justification by faith alone apart from works of the law. Yet the damage to the gospel by prosperity preachers and other peddlers of God's word still wields tremendous influence for harm around the world.

It is our hearts' desire and prayer to God that as we all join together to re-clarify for the church and world what the gospel message is, that we present it to them with the kinds of radical generosity and radical reliance on God's provision (2 Corinthians 9:8) that we see in the New Testament.

So knowing that it may look different in each case, let us pray and think and act so that our personal lifestyles and our ministry approaches all seek to reflect and remove all obstacles from the gospel of Jesus Christ.

*               *               *

Recommended Resource: Money, Markets, and Ministry

In staff devotions recently we were in Proverbs 6. Solomon warns his son against the devastation of adultery. In verses 32-33 he writes,

He who commits adultery lacks sense; 
   he who does it destroys himself. 
He will get wounds and dishonor, 
   and his disgrace will not be wiped away.

For Solomon, every warning against adultery must have been haunted by the memory of his father and mother, David and Bathsheba. Imagine what he must have felt. He was the product of a marriage that never should have been.

He watched the royal family, in the middle of Israel's golden age, implode because this union that brought him into existence had come into existence. God "put away" David's sin (2 Samuel 12:13), determining to bear its condemnation himself (Romans 3:25-26). But he did not remove from David its wounds and disgrace. 

Yet, out of the wreckage that was David's family, emerges Solomon. By choosing him, of all the sons, to assume the throne and to write holy Scripture, God is saying something stunning: he really can work all things, including devastating sin, for good for those who love him and are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28). 

The destruction of adultery is very real. Its disgrace is lasting. It is to be avoided at all costs. But it still is not more powerful than the grace of God. 

To those who, like David, have fallen, take heart. If you have repented and trust Christ, he has borne all your condemnation. And though you view with painful and appropriate regret the damage your adultery caused, keep your eyes open. It is like God to bring something unexpectedly and amazingly good from it. Because the grace of God is stronger than the sin of man.

Peter watched Jesus make his way toward him, washing the feet of other disciples.

It had already been a confusing Passover. Jesus had been unusually burdened, close to tears all day. The atmosphere during the meal was charged with ominous anticipation.

Peter had grown used to Jesus doing and saying unpredictable things. But what Jesus was doing now was wrong. He was the last person in the room who should be washing feet.

All of Peter’s life he had been taught that feet were dishonorable members of the body. They were usually dirty, frequently smelly, and among the most likely members to come in contact with things that the Law declared unclean.

Outside of immediate family, feet were washed by slaves and servants—ideally non-Jews so as not to subject any of the Covenant People to such humiliation.

And one never insulted an honored person by pointing one’s feet at them.

But here was the Messiah, the most honored Jew to ever walk the earth, stripped like a common slave with a towel around his waist willingly handling the unclean feet of his disciples. This was backwards. If anything, Peter should be down there washing Jesus’ feet.

When Jesus got to Peter he smiled at him and reached for his feet. Peter pulled them back. “Lord, do you wash my feet?”

Jesus loved Peter. The Rock never did anything, right or wrong, without jumping in with—or in this case withholding—both feet. He knew what Peter was thinking. So he replied, “What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand.”

Unwilling to subject Jesus to such dishonor Peter said, “You shall never wash my feet.”

Jesus’ countenance became dead serious. “If I do not wash you, you have no share with me.”

The shock of this statement stunned Peter for a second. He was trying to preserve his Master’s honor. But Jesus was essentially telling him, unless you let me bear your dishonor, your uncleanness, you can’t be my disciple.

Well, he didn’t understand what this all meant, but Peter would leave no doubt about his trust in and love for Jesus: “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!”

Joy radiated from Jesus’ eyes and smile. And as he washed Peter’s feet he said, “The one who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet, but is completely clean.”

Then he paused for a moment and looked into Peter’s eyes. This beloved man was unknowingly about to face the most difficult, grievous, and glorious three days of his life. He would benefit from this reassurance: “And you are clean.”

Then his eyes dropped back to Peter’s feet and he resumed washing. “But not every one of you.”

*               *               *

Two lessons from this account in John 13:1-11:

First, much of the Christian life is spent trusting Jesus now and understanding him later. Jesus typically does not feel it necessary to explain on the front end why he is doing something the way he is doing it. And, like Peter, when it looks wrong to us, we are tempted to object to the Lord’s will.

God understands and is patient with our confusion and even our deep wrestling or grief. But he wants us to trust him and not grumble. God’s ways are not our ways (Isaiah 55:8). His purposes for bringing or not bringing certain things to pass often extend far beyond us—maybe even generations beyond us.

So during those times we need to remember Jesus’ words to Peter: “What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand.”

Second, what Jesus is bringing about in the sometimes confusing, sometimes very painful work he is doing in our lives is sanctification. He is washing our feet. He not only bathes us, completely removing the guilt of our sin in his cleansing work on the cross, but in love he keeps forgiving us (1 John 1:9) and disciplines us so that we will share his holiness (Hebrews 12:10-11).

Our understanding his purposes in a particular providence tends to be not as important to God as our trust in his character. So together let’s continue to “trust in the Lord with all [our] heart, and…not lean on [our] own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5). Because one day we will understand. And we will, with great joy, proclaim, “The Lord is righteous in all his ways and kind in all his works” (Psalm 145:17).

In my previous post I reflected on this verse: "Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you" (Matthew 5:42). And the comments have been very thoughtful and helpful.

It's a breathtaking command, isn't it? Typical Jesus. If he doesn't knock the wind out of us occasionally, we're not really listening to him.

Just a clarifying thought.

Like the friends who commented, I too wrestle in the specifics of obeying this command. And in my stumbling attempts I have not personally seen many transformed lives. It's enough to make one quite cynical. 

But the reason for our cynicism may be that we are misunderstanding Jesus' purpose for the command. We tend to assume that the motive for radical generosity ought to be to meet a real need and help facilitate transformation in someone's life. If that isn't likely to happen, we shouldn't give. It wastes money and reinforces evil behavior. The problem is Jesus doesn’t command us to give for those reasons.  

What is his reason? "So that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven" (Matthew 5:45) The point? The Father shows radical generosity toward both good and evil people (v. 45). The text makes no promise that all the evil people are reformed as a result of his generosity. From my observation, most are not.

And like Father, like Son. Jesus showed great kindness toward the crowds who followed him and toward those who crucified him. Yet only a few believed in him.

And like Father (and Son), like adopted "sons" (male and female). We are being called to bear the family resemblance. The Father’s children behave like the Father and the Son. One of those ways is the stunning—some would call foolish—way we show generous kindness toward undeserving evil people—the very kindness we’ve received.

If these evil people don’t repent, we are not wasting our generosity on them. Through us, God is showing them grace that he will hold them accountable for someday. We show the world that we love God and not money (Matthew 6:24). And God is showing us that he 

...is able to make all grace abound to [us], so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, [we] may abound in every good work. As it is written, "He has distributed freely, he has given to the poor; his righteousness endures forever.” (2 Corinthians 9:8-9)

Now, there are times when real love dictates that we withhold giving, and the more intimately we are involved in a person’s life the better we can discern this. Biblical love must govern all our actions. God give us wisdom!

It's also helpful to remember that Jesus is instructing disciples, not government agencies or NGO's. He’s not giving a formula for eliminating poverty. Neither is he necessarily instructing a church's institutional approach to community development, though he’s informing it. On those levels it is necessary to carefully identify and strategically address the causes of poverty. 

But he is calling us to radical, gospel generosity. The kind that looks weird in the world. The kind that sifts our motives and tests our love. The kind that is impossible for the natural man. But let’s take heart, that’s the way it’s supposed to be, for “with man it is impossible, but not with God. For all things are possible with God” (Mark 10:27).

"Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you" (Matthew 5:42).

I confess, I have not always obeyed this command.

I'm a veteran urban-dweller. Having lived in an inner city neighborhood for 18 years, I've encountered many beggers and borrowers. Some I discerned as cons I have called out or waved off. Some I have hired to do work. Others I've given to because I felt the conviction of this text.

I've thought a lot about this command of Jesus over the years. I've discussed it with many. I think I know all the major reasons why not to give when someone asks. You don't want to encourage deception. You don't want to feed a chemical addiction. You don't want to contribute to someone's cycle of poverty. And there are many others.

But still this text unnerves and convicts me.

The reason is that Jesus doesn't give this command in the context of addressing how I can best facilitate transformation in someone else. He is telling me how I should respond to those who are making demands on me, either from explicitly evil motives or just plain out of their difficult situation. He is telling me how I ought to respond even when being taken advantage of.

• Do not resist the evil person, he says. Let him slap you twice. (v. 39)
• Give him more than he is suing you for. (v. 40)
• Do more than he is forcing you to do. (v. 41)
• Give to those who ask. (v. 42)
• Love your enemy. (v. 44)

Jesus is telling me to actively show kindness and radical generosity toward those who hate me or who are seeking to take advantage of me.

Really, Jesus? Isn't that rewarding sinful, or at least unhealthy, behavior?

Of course, I can think of Biblical examples that illustrate when it seems right to resist or flee an evil person in situations of theft, deception, abuse, persecution, war, etc. So when the Word speaks, I must listen carefully, and I must weigh all of his words.

But from the words Jesus speaks here, I think it applies more often and more broadly than I want it to. He does not let me off the hook easily. He tests my heart with such radical love. And in my heart I see my selfish, unloving impulses that do not want to part with my money, possessions, time, or convenience for needy or evil people. And I have a ready arsenal of noble-sounding rationales that conceal my sin, almost from myself.

What Jesus is calling me to is gospel love. It's the love that drove him to die for me with when I was still a weak, ungodly, sinful enemy of his (Romans 5:6-10). There is something about such over-the-top, radically generous love that is so different from the way the world loves that it reflects the Father's love for sinners. It's why Jesus calls us also to costly love. It is both an expression and picture of the gospel.

Pray for me. I have an opportunity in my life right now to obey this command, which is why I'm wrestling with this text again. Pray that I will love the way I have been loved.

I've been listening to Augustine's Confessions while doing yard work and exercising. It's been 8-9 years since I read the book and was blown away. The entire book is written as a prayer to God. Listening to it is a different experience.

It's listening to Augustine pray. And listening to him confess his sins, struggles, and intellectual wrestlings in this spiritual autobiography reminds me just how similar we are to our ancient brothers and sisters. As he talks to his Savior I hear what a heart in love with Jesus sounds like. And to listen to him ponder the miracle that is the human memory gives me a glimpse into the brilliant mind this man had.

For what it's worth, I think this audio book is a soul-enriching investment

What happened to Demas?

We don’t know. All we know is that some of the last words the Apostle Paul wrote before his Roman execution expressed a heartbreak: “Demas, in love with this present world, has deserted me and gone to Thessalonica” (2 Timothy 4:10).

Maybe Demas feared being executed with Paul and fled to safety. Or maybe he succumbed to immorality. Or maybe he simply caved in to the relentless temptation of a more comfortable, prosperous life in the large, cosmopolitan, pluralistic, wealthy, culturally interesting city of Thessalonica.

Whatever it was, Paul saw it as embracing the world.

But just a few sentences later in this letter to Timothy, Paul says something very hope-giving: “Get Mark and bring him with you, for he is very useful to me for ministry” (2 Timothy 4:11).

Remember Mark? He had been the first to desert the team. Back in the early days, during the first missionary trip with Paul and Barnabas, Mark took off from Pamphylia and returned home to Jerusalem (Acts 13:13).  Again, we don’t know why. But Paul didn’t approve. In fact, when Barnabas wanted to bring Mark back on the team after the Jerusalem Council, Paul would have none of it (Acts 15:37-40).

But here is Mark, at the end of Paul’s life, fully reconciled to and fully trusted by Paul and very useful in the gospel ministry.

Demas and Mark serve as contrasts. One provides a word of warning, the other a word of hope. And as people who stumble in many ways (James 3:2), we need both.

Demas began well. Four or five years earlier, during another imprisonment, Paul refers to Demas as a “fellow worker” in the gospel (Colossians 4:14, Philemon 1:24). There was a time when Demas apparently chose, like Moses, “to be mistreated with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin” (Hebrews 11:25).

But he doesn’t appear to end well. Having once fought alongside of Paul in kingdom battles, he seems to have sided with the enemy.

So the warning is this: “Be soberminded; be watchful. Our adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion seeking someone to devour. Resist him, firm in your faith” (1 Peter 5:8-9a). Our enemy is very real and very crafty. He threatens and seduces. And even those who start strong and are leaders, like Demas, are susceptible to his deception.

Mark, on the other hand, gives us hope. He had a weak start. He didn’t appear to have the right stuff. He disappointed his leaders and friends by leaving them to bear the heat of battle while he went home.

But Mark ended well. At some point he rejoined the battle and proved a faithful, trusted, useful warrior. And, if tradition is correct, the Lord even used him to contribute a gospel to the New Testament canon.

So the hope is this: “Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint” (Isaiah 40:30-31).

Let us then be on our guard. We live with indwelling sin that is inclined toward insanity, because it is inclined to believe lies that lead to our destruction. When we are feeling the powerful pull of worldly temptation we need to take Paul’s exhortation very seriously:

“But as for you, O man of God, flee these things. Pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, gentleness. Fight the good fight of faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called.” (1 Timothy 6:11-12)

Paul knew what he was talking about. He watched co-laborers fall.

But let us also remember that God is in the business of forgiving sins, reconciling stumbling sinners to himself, and restoring them to useful service. Paul knew this too.

“I thank him who has given me strength, Christ Jesus our Lord, because he judged me faithful, appointing me to his service, though formerly I was a blasphemer, persecutor, and insolent opponent. But I received mercy…” (1 Timothy 1:12-13)

We don’t know the last word on Demas. I hope that he repented in the end. But because of Mark, we know that failure doesn’t have to be the last word for us.

Rather, may our last word be “But I received mercy.” And whatever may have happened in the past, let us resolve to pursue Jesus as our treasure and seek to live lives of useful service for him from this day forth. 

*               *               *

Recommended resource: “Live to Die”

Pastor Tim Smith of Mars Hill church in Seattle did a brief (7.5 minute) interview with me at a recent conference on how Desiring God got started 15 years ago.

He had the Holy One of Israel in his house, reclining at his table. The Prophet that Moses had foretold was sharing dinner with him. The Lord of glory, the Resurrection and the Life, was speaking with him face to face. The great climactic moment of history he claimed to be living for had arrived. It should have been a deliriously wonderful, breathtaking honor for Simon to host the Messiah.

But Simon was not amazed.  As he looked at Jesus, all he saw was a dusty Nazarene whose claims could be interpreted as delusional.

And Jesus’ feet were still dirty. Offering foot washing to guests had been a deeply ingrained custom for Near Eastern peoples for thousands of years. To not offer it was to dishonor one’s guest. It’s not likely that Simon simply forgot.

But Jesus showed no sign of offense. And with the meal on the table, superficial pleasantries were exchanged. A few polite questions were asked.

Suddenly all eyes facing Jesus were filled with confused concern, focused toward his feet. Jesus looked back.

A woman was standing near him, clearly not part of the household. She was looking intensely at him, cradling a small jar in her hands. She began to sob and dropped to her knees. And as her tears flowed, she leaned over and let them drop on Jesus’ soiled feet and wiped them off, along with the dirt, with her hair. Then she kissed Jesus’ feet.

Gasps and mutterings were heard around the table. This woman had a reputation known to all the local guests. It was improper even to speak openly about what had given her this reputation. She was simply called a “sinner.” Everyone knew what was packed into that word.

So everyone was mortified by this sinner’s actions, except, apparently, Jesus. He did not seem shocked. And he did nothing to stop her. An alarmed servant moved toward the woman but Simon waved him off. This was a revealing moment.

As Simon watched the woman pour fragrant oil from her jar on Jesus’ feet, he felt both contempt and pleasure. His appraisal of Jesus was being vindicated before his eyes. Nothing spoke more eloquently of the falseness of this so-called prophet than his stunning lack of discernment regarding this immoral woman. No holy man would have let her pollute him with her touch. He began to rehearse what he would report to the Council.

“Simon, I have something to say to you.” Jesus’ words snapped Simon’s attention back. “Say it, Teacher,” he replied.

“A certain moneylender had two debtors. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they could not pay, he cancelled the debt of both. Now which of them will love him more?”

Simon answered, “The one, I suppose, for whom he cancelled the larger debt.” And he said to him, “You have judged rightly.”

Then turning toward the woman he said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.”

And then Jesus spoke to the woman: “Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you; go in peace” (Luke 7:40-49).

*               *               *

“He who is forgiven little, loves little.” This small statement reveals a mammoth truth for us: we will love God to the degree that we recognize the magnitude of our sins and the immensity of God’s grace to forgive them.

As a Pharisee, Simon likely had significant theological learning, memorized extensive portions of Scripture, exercised rigorous self-discipline, tithed meticulously, spent much time “serving” God, and enjoyed a reputation as a godly man. And yet he did not love God.

The woman, however, who had nothing to offer except shameful sin, was described by Jesus as a model for true worship. Why? Simply because she knew how desperately she needed the forgiveness Jesus offered in his gospel, and she believed that he could grant it.

That is what Jesus is looking for. That is the faith that saves.

True worship is a passionate love for God. And, for sinners like us, the fuel of that love is a profound realization, in the words of former slave trader-turned-pastor, John Newton, “that I am a great sinner, and that Christ is a great Saviour.”

In June, a few of us at DG visited China in order to increase our understanding of the history and culture of this great nation and how we might more effectively meet some of the needs of the rapidly growing church there.

One of the places we visited was Shepherd’s Field Children’s Village in Tianjin. It is an amazing place, providing an openly Christian home, school, and even vocational training for well over 100 orphans, many of whom are living with disabilities. We had the privilege of spending time with some of the orphans and touring the campus.

While there we became aware of a financial need. Tim Baker, the founder and head of the ministry, showed us a construction site for a new building that will prepare orphans who have aged out of the adoption process for independence with vocational and life skills training.

But due to some construction timelines imposed on them by the authorities, construction on the building had to begin without having the funds in hand. So the Foundation is seeking to raise a significant amount by June 1, 2010, in order to complete the building.

We do not make it a practice to highlight the financial needs of other ministries, or our own, on this blog. But since few know about this project, and because of the Bible’s clear instruction about caring for orphans (James 1:27), we felt that we should make this need known.

If you would like more information or if you feel moved to help complete this vocational and therapy center, you may contact the staff at Shepherd’s Field (link fixed).

A couple years ago I shared my experience of enduring a spiritual storm, a crisis of faith. Since then I’ve had the privilege of corresponding with numerous precious saints who are enduring similar storms.

A common experience is that after the initial blast of the storm, it often takes a long time to regain a sense of spiritual equilibrium. A friend wrote me recently essentially asking me how long it will take to “get past this” to feeling normal again. I thought I would share my response to him in case others of you are finding yourselves asking, “How Long, O Lord” (Ps. 90:13)

Thank you for the update. Yes, I remember well. I would say it took me a good year from the time I experienced an initial breakthrough until I really felt my spiritual equilibrium was more “normal.” Changing metaphors, if the initial crisis was a massive earthquake, I felt aftershocks for a long time. And some were strong.

My experience is that God brings deliverance from these things gradually. Because his purpose is to strengthen faith and character. A different analogy: it is similar to endurance and strength training. It’s the adversity of the struggle that builds spiritual understanding, muscle, and endurance. And it generally takes longer and is more difficult and painful than we imagine at first.

One last analogy. Remember Frodo in The Lord of the Rings? He is stabbed with the Mordor blade of the wraith king on Weathertop. It almost kills him. But thanks to the divine healing gift of Elrond the elf lord, the evil poison is removed. However, for the rest of his life, Frodo still sometimes feels the icy pain in the scar.

It’s like that with such wounding as you and I have experienced. I still feel the icy pain occasionally in the scar. But it has become a reminder of grace and a reminder to set my hope on God and his promises. It is a reminder that I walk by faith and not sight.

I will pray for you. The Lord will not forsake you. It is he who will get you past this. Keep following Jesus who endured Gethsemane, the trial, the scourging, the cross, and death for you.

He showed you that sometimes the path of faith takes you through indescribably deep darkness. He is not asking you to endure what he has not already endured—and infinitely worse. And he showed that you can trust the Father, whose will sometimes is that you drink a cup you really wish you didn’t have to drink.

But it’s only because there is joy unspeakable and full of glory for those who do.

“No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it” (1 Cor. 10:13).

Grace be with all of you who are struggling now.

This morning I read a booklet by Michael Haykin of Southern Seminary titled, In God We Trust: What Is God Saying In The Midst Of This Financial Crisis. He provides a brief survey of historical financial crises, beginning with Paul’s collection for the Jerusalem saints up through the Great Depression and highlights the spiritual fruit that came from them.

I love how he exhorts us Christians to be radically generous in the face of financial uncertainty since it is precisely during these times when our trust in God can be most clearly seen. Here’s a quote:

In such times as these, it would be so easy and so natural to keep to ourselves what financial resources we have left. While provision needs to be made for our own families, times like these call for open hands and generosity on the part of those who call Christ, Lord. The words of… the Apostle Paul, are as germane as ever: "as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone."

The booklet can be read in 15-30 minutes and would be a helpful resource for families, congregations, Sunday schools, and small groups.