Rejoice in the Lord Always

Paul exhorts us, saying, “Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say, rejoice” (Phil. 4:4). How is it possible to “rejoice always?” … Many words are not needed, nor a long round of argument, but if we only consider his expression, we shall find the way that leads to it. He does not simply say, “Rejoice always,” but he adds the cause of the continual pleasure, saying, “Rejoice in the Lord always.” He who rejoices “in the Lord,” cannot be deprived of the pleasure by anything that may happen. For all other things in which we rejoice are mutable and changeable, and subject to variation. And not only does this grievous circumstance attend them, but moreover while they remain they do not afford us a pleasure sufficient to repel and veil the sadness that comes upon us from other quarters. But the fear of God contains both these requisites. It is steadfast and immovable, and sheds so much gladness that we can admit no sense of other evils. For the man who fears God as he ought, and trusts in him, gathers from the very root of pleasure, and has possession of the whole fountain of joy. And as a spark falling upon a wide ocean quickly disappears, so whatever events happen to the man who fears God, these, falling as it were upon an immense ocean of joy, are quenched and destroyed!” (John Chrysostom)

Again, the Bible does not say to give thanks for everything but in everything give thanks. There is a difference.

I don’t need to rejoice for suffering and pain in me or in those around me. I can rejoice confidently that God is working in those things to bring about His glory and our good. I can rejoice that in the seemingly unending changing of the world around me that God remains eternally changeless.

I can rejoice that God is with me even in the worst of circumstances, that He is for me even during my worst moments, and He is in me transforming my worst parts into glory. I can rejoice that He who began a good work in me will most definitely bring it to completion in Christ Jesus.

I can celebrate that what momentary afflictions I encounter down here won’t even begin to compare to the glory that’s coming. It won’t even be close. I can rejoice that at the end of the day, at the end of my life, God will have the last word and the last victory.

He Suffered for Us

“I could never myself believe in God, if it were not for the cross. The only God I believe in is the one Nietzsche ridiculed as “God on the Cross.” In the real world of pain, how could one worship a God who was immune to it? I have entered many Buddhist temples and stood respectfully before the statue of Buddha, his legs crossed, arms folded, eyes closed, the ghost of a smile playing round his mouth, a remote look on his face, detached from the agonies of the world. But each time after a while I have had to turn away. And in imagination I have turned instead to that lonely, twisted, tortured figure on the cross, nails through hands and feet, back lacerated, limbs wrenched, brow bleeding from thorn-pricks, mouth dry and intolerably thirsty, plunged in Godforsaken darkness. That is the God for me! He laid aside his immunity to pain. He entered our world of flesh and blood, tears and death. He suffered for us” (John Stott).

Every other religion is about working our way to God and somehow managing to be good enough or obey enough rules or simply to be lucky enough to get to heaven or nirvana or whatever they believe exists after death. But Christianity is the story about how God in Jesus has come to us (and I hear Mike Glenn’s voice as I type these words). Jesus knew that man could never climb high enough to get to heaven, so He came from heaven to live among us and die for us.

It’s still a few weeks away from Lent Season and Easter, but I still think it’s good to remember that God doesn’t watch us suffering from a distance. He’s with us in our suffering. Best of all, He became one of us and suffered for us more than anyone before or since to provide redemption and salvation and freedom to all who would receive Him.

That’s a good thought for Easter, but it’s also good for any time of the year. It’s good especially for times like these when pain and suffering are the norm rather than the exception. Your King knows all about suffering and He is still here and He still reigns. One day, He will make all things right. This is our God, and Jesus is His name.

All I Needed to Say

I know several people who are dealing with grief and the loss of a loved one. It’s never easy, especially with the recent end of the Christmas season that makes loss even more difficult to bear. I found a post with the lyrics from a Michael W. Smith song from his second album. Let these words sink in and express your own grief and loss:

“Sad goodbye
Never quite got said
Now the time is gone
We’re moving on
Even though it hurts so bad

If I could
I’d turn back the days
And I’d love again
To be your friend
In a hundred different ways
But we can’t turn back the time
The days

So if I never said, all I needed to say
I’ll say it now
You know I loved you once
I love you stronger today
Please love, find me a way
Words, I still need to say
But I don’t know how

Can’t stand still
Still I can’t move on
Lord, I need your strength
Need you and me
‘Cause a part of me is gone

In time, I will know
What I’ve yet to see
That through all the pain
You hurt the same
And you’re standing here with me
More than anything it’s you
I need

So if I never said, all I needed to say
I’ll say it now
You know I loved you once
I love you stronger today
Please love find me a way
Words, I still need to say
Please show me how

Words, I still need to say

So if I never said, all I needed to say
I’ll say it now
You know I loved you once
I love you stronger today
Please love find me a way
But I don’t know how
Please love find me a way
Please show me how” (Amy Grant / Michael W. Smith).

Gratitude on Thanksgiving Eve

I know it’s not officially a thing, but Happy Thanksgiving Eve, everyone! I figure if Christmas can have a Christmas Eve, then Thanksgiving should as well. It’s time Turkey Day got some love after years of being overshadowed by all the glitz and glamor of Christmas.

But on this particular Thanksgiving, I want to take time to focus on gratitude. Even as my temp job came to an end yesterday, I am still thankful. I know that people out there around the world would love to have one of my bad days where I still slept in a warm bed with a roof over my head and a full stomach. They’d love to have access to clean drinkable water while I can’t decide between brands of sparking water.

It’s impossible to give thanks and be envious or entitled in the same breath. You can’t actually do both. You will either live in a world of resentment and bitterness over what you don’t have that you think you deserve, or you will live in a world where anything good is a gift from God not to be taken for granted.

If I’m honest, I know what I am apart from the grace of God. I know I deserve nothing good from the hand of God. I also know I have been the recipient of grace upon grace. Even the next breath is a gift that I don’t deserve but that I will receive gladly. That is not me beating myself up. It’s me admitting that I am a member of the human race that is fallen and is unable to save itself and needs Jesus.

If I took the time to list out all the gifts I’m grateful for from the biggest to the smallest, I imagine I could spend the rest of my life writing it all down. I could even take the rest of eternity coming up with more reasons for gratitude. I think that even forever in heaven all our thanks will fall short of naming all the goodness of God to us or uncovering all that He truly is.

But I can say thank you. I can live in gratitude. I can remember that people all over the world would love to have my bad days that would be better than their best days. I can pray for them and pray that God can use me and my little gifts possibly to make an impact in their world as I continue to pour out thanksgiving.

Adding to, Not Taking Away

I confess that I don’t really know too much about the singer Nightbirde, whose real name was Jane Kristen Marczewski. I know that she was a singer-songwriter. I also know that she was a contestant on America’s Got Talent. I remember she had been diagnosed with cancer and her husband left her right before she went on the show. I know how sad I was when I found out she had passed away.

But she left us with some beautiful music and some inspiring quotes that showed her resilient faith in God that not even cancer could kill. These following words were her testimony to the end:

“When it comes to pain, God isn’t often in the business of taking it away. Instead, he adds to it. He is more of a giver than a taker. He doesn’t take away my darkness, he adds light. He doesn’t spare me of thirst, he brings water. He doesn’t cure my loneliness, he comes near. So why do we believe that when we are in pain, it must mean God is far?” (Jane Kristen Marczewski aka Nightbirde).

I forget that. I think that God can only speak through blessing or that God is near only when the sun is shining. I forget that pain is often God’s way of getting my attention. I forget that you can’t wrestle with someone who’s far away, so those times must mean God is near (with much thanks to Jon Acuff for that one).

God is using what I would like to avoid to grow me up. Rather than taking me out of struggles and storms, God goes through them with me and I learn to trust God’s nearness even when I can’t feel it. I trust God’s hand even when I can’t see it. I trust God’s heart even when I don’t understand it.

Maundy Thursday & Beyond

“The symbols under which Heaven is presented to us are (a) a dinner party, (b) a wedding, (c) a city, and (d) a concert. It would be grotesque to suppose that the guests or citizens or members of the choir didn’t know one another. And how can love of one another be commanded in this life if it is to be cut short at death?

Think of yourself just as a seed patiently waiting in the earth: waiting to come up a flower in the Gardener’s good time, up into the real world, the real waking. I suppose that our whole present life, looked back on from there, will seem only a drowsy half- waking. We are here in the land of dreams. But cock-crow is coming” (C. S. Lewis, The Collected Letters of C. S. Lewis, Volume III).

Maundy Thursday is a good reminder of being in the not yet. On that day, all the hard and painful things still lay ahead. Jesus was getting closer to the cross. It was only a matter of waiting.

Sometimes, that waiting can seem like forever. In a sense, we’d almost prefer knowing the worst rather than not knowing at all. And for us, those old fleshly fears can creep up on us during the wait, adding to the anxiety.

But all this present suffering is temporary, just as the suffering of Jesus between Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. Jesus was able to endure all that because of the joy that was set before Him that came on the other side of Golgotha. So we also know that just beyond our pain is a greater joy. Just on the other side of suffering is eternal peace.

We wait just as Jesus waited, knowing that beyond the cross and death was an empty tomb and the resurrection. We wait with hope — not a wishful thinking kind of hope, but a rock-solid certainty kind. The victory has already been won.

Palm Sunday

“Almighty and everlasting God, who, of thy tender love towards mankind, has sent thy Son, our Savior Jesus Christ, to take upon him our flesh and to suffer death upon the cross, that all mankind should follow the example of his great humility: Mercifully grant that we may both follow the example of his patience, and also be made partakers of his resurrection, through the same Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen” (from the 1662 Book of Common Prayer).

Today is Palm Sunday, a week out from Easter Sunday. This is traditionally the day that Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey to shouts of “Hosanna!” and “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.”

The crowd was cheering and laying down palm branches before His path. Apparently, in that day palm trees symbolized victory and triumph. Maybe the crowd was anticipating an imminent overthrow of Roman rule. Maybe they were expecting Jesus to start acting the part of an earthly king.

Were those people the same ones who later shouted for Barrabus to be released and for this Jesus to be crucified? I’ve heard a lot of sermons that hinged on the same people at one moment praising Jesus and at the next condemning Him. But I’ve also heard that it wasn’t necessarily the same people.

Regardless, Jesus looked beyond the praise to the pain. He focused beyond the crowds on the cross and all the torture He would shortly endure. His mission wasn’t to get the approval of the crowds in that moment but to set His face toward Jerusalem and Golgotha. His purpose was to lay down His life for the flock.

I heard in a sermon today that to appreciate the joy of Easter Sunday, you need to walk through Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. Take in all the mocking. Being abandoned by His disciples. The beatings. The whip that tore strips of flesh of His back. The carrying of the cross up the hill to Golgatha. All those hours in agony up on that cross. Giving up His spirit and dying.

It’s important to remember that sin isn’t something that God ever takes lightly or brushes off. The Father doesn’t wink at our transgressions and ignore all the wrong we’ve done. Sin always has a cost, and that cost is always death. In the Old Testament, the price was the sacrifice of an animal that pointed forward to the ultimate sacrifice to come. In the New Testament, that ultimate sacrifice is Jesus willingly laying down His life for us.

Take time in the next week to reflect on the fact that Jesus bore the whip and the nails for you and me. He chose the wounds and scars that we might be healed. He died that we might live. And then you can celebrate Easter Sunday a week from today with joy.

The Peace of Christ

“‘I give you MY peace’ John 14:27. Jesus, thank you for a peace that doesn’t just prepare us to die well, but also to live free. The peace of no condemnation and your full delight. The peace of knowing you’re working in all things for our good” (Scotty Smith).

I’m thankful that the peace of Christ isn’t based on my ideas of what peace should look and feel like.

My idea of peace is no conflict, no discomforts, no pain, no trials. If I had my way, I’d go from ease to ease, from comfort to comfort, and never grow up. Jesus’ way isn’t about making me suffer simply for the sake of suffering, but in my trials and tribulations I can 1) become more like Jesus, and 2) identify with Jesus in His own sufferings (which were way worse than mine will ever be).

Peace isn’t the absence of storms, but being sheltered in the midst of those storms. As the old song says, sometimes Jesus calms the storm, but often He comforts His child in the storm.

Peace is ultimately an inner solitude that nothing from the outside can shake, a confidence of faith that no outside crisis can kill, and a trust that says, “Even if He kills me, I will still keep trusting” (adapted from Job 13:15).

Grant us peace tonight that passes all our human understanding and guards our hearts and leads us to adoration of You, O Lord.

Known by the Scars

I had one of those wow moments when I was flipping channels recently. I came across a discussion group involving Ann Voskamp, Sheila Walsh, and a few others. One of them said that so many of us base our identity on the wounds that others have inflicted on us rather than on the wounds that Jesus bore for us. That was a WOW moment that left me Without Words.

I think it’s telling that in one miracle, Jesus asks a paralytic if he wants to be well. You would think it would be a Captain Obvious question with the inevitable answer of YES, but then so many of us have built so much of our identities around our pain and our hurt that we wouldn’t have anything left if our affliction were suddenly taken away.

A better way is to be identified with the Suffering Servant who was wounded for our transgressions, who bore scars on His hands, feet and side from taking the punishment that we deserved on Himself. This is the Jesus who still bears those scars even in Heaven.

All of us will be called at some point to suffer for the cause of Christ. Some will suffer physically. Some even to the point of death. One of the greatest honors I can think of is to bear wounds and scars from following Jesus faithfully through opposition, trials, suffering, and pain. Maybe too some of us will bear scars in heaven.

I do know for sure that Jesus was willing to lay down His life for each and every one of us. Your and my identity rests in the fact that God so loved us that He gave His only Son, Jesus, so that we should not be lost but have real, abundant, and eternal life in and with God. We are no longer strangers and aliens, outcasts with no hope or future but children of God, the Bride of Christ, and beloved.

Befriending Your Pain

Note: this was originally posted on October 10, 2021:

“I want to say to you that most of our brokenness cannot be simply taken away. It’s there. And the deepest pain that you and I suffer is often the pain that stays with us all our lives. It cannot be simply solved, fixed, done away with. . . . What are we then told to do with that pain, with that brokenness, that anguish, that agony that continually rises up in our heart? We are called to embrace it, to befriend it. To not just push it away . . . to walk right over it, to ignore it. No, to embrace it, to befriend it, and say that is my pain and I claim my pain as the way God is willing to show me his love” (Henri Nouwen).

C. S. Lewis said that God speaks to us through our pain. Oftentimes, pain is the only way for God to get our attention, distracted as we are by our pleasures and pursuits. Living in a beautiful but broken world, it’s not hard to find pain. God simply uses that pain to speak to us, to gently remind us that He is near, to mold us into something closer to His likeness.