Notes of Faith September 9, 2023

Notes of Faith September 9, 2023

What Does Biblical Freedom Really Mean?

Free and Fully Alive

I was taught that God wants us to live freely, but I never understood what that kind of freedom meant or felt like. It seemed like a good idea in theory, but elusive — I had no idea how to grab a hold of it. Granted, there were seasons of my life when I felt free but really wasn’t.

If freedom meant being carefree and uninhibited, that kind of freedom was mine during the years I was addicted to drugs (more on that in my book). I was free to make the decisions I wanted and do whatever made me feel good in the moment, but that freedom never brought me peace. I was free but not fully alive. I was enslaved to my own freedom — which was really counterfeit freedom.

Biblical Freedom

So what does biblical freedom mean? The freedom God offers throughout Scripture is freedom from the enslaving power of sin in our lives. The Enemy uses sin to obstruct our relationship with God, keeping us from experiencing abundant life in God.

Biblical freedom allows us to reclaim what the Enemy has robbed from us so we can live the story of who God created us to be.

By contrast, worldly freedom is the ability to do what we want, when we want. When Adam and Eve were in Eden, they were free to choose whether to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. But choosing to eat from it brought consequences — death.

Paul gives us a clear idea of this whole freedom thing and defines what biblical freedom truly means and doesn’t mean. He wrote in 1 Corinthians 6:12,

‘I have the right to do anything,’ you say — but not everything is beneficial. ‘I have the right to do anything’ — but I will not be mastered by anything.

What does this mean for you? This means Jesus set you free so you can stand firm in His power to live a life that is free and fully alive, not so you can be bound to the things of this earth. He wants you awakened to a life that can hold both hurt and hope. A life that cries out in grief but can whisper gratitude in the same breath.

This kind of freedom allows you to have faith in Christ but still experience human fears. You can bring them both before the cross, where His grace, love, and mercy can cover you and empower you.

Our spirits long for the goodness and intimacy they were created to experience.

Addressing Counterfeit Freedom

There’s a not-so-fun part of finding freedom, though.

If you want to be truly free, you must first recognize the places where you have settled for counterfeit freedom.

You must awaken to the reality that parts of your story have been hijacked by an Enemy who wants you to believe that freedom lies in your power to choose, rather than through the transformation of your heart.

Once you recognize where this Enemy has attacked your story, you can begin the work of reclaiming those places so you can experience the life abundant and return to who you were created to be.

The Hope of Redemption

We all come with stories — some good, some bad, and some really hard. Our deepest desire is to be known and loved, but our stories often include times when we were not known for who we really are and definitely were not fully loved. And yet we can’t escape the belief that maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for our stories, that maybe our lives can be redeemed and we can emerge as the free little ones we once were.

Our spirits hold a curiosity around hope. Even if that hope has sunk within us, it’s still there, calling to us, speaking of what was and what could be. This longing comes from the desire to create and dream and play. It’s as if our spirits know life wasn’t supposed to be this way — we weren’t made for pain and despair. We were designed for something greater. Our spirits long for Eden.

Our spirits long for the goodness and intimacy they were created to experience.

They long for the wonder of the unknown and the mystery of what could be. Our spirits seem to know something our brains don’t — that we were made for abundant life — but our brains won’t let us engage because of fear of disappointment or failure or rejection. It’s our spirits that keep leading us to the reckless hope of trying again.

All it takes to keep going is a willingness to be honest, to invite God into the story, and to allow some trustworthy people to witness your story in a way that enables your heart to be seen and held. Something dynamic and supernatural begins to happen. Life starts to have color. The puzzle pieces of your broken story come together. You are awakened to a God who sees you in the hard and the holy, and you realize you are loved.

God meets the great longing of your soul within the recesses of the stories you bear — which He wants to redeem.

Adapted from Free and Fully Alive: Reclaiming the Story of Who You Were Created to Be by Karrie Garcia, copyright Karrie Garcia.

There have always been consequences and rewards for the choices we make. We are free to make them but what follows depends on those decisions. In Christ, we are free to resist worldly lusts and desires doing the will of our Father in heaven and great reward. This world is not our home and Satan, the ruler of this world would have us distracted, deceived, devoid of any thought of God’s love toward us, so that we seek the things of the world. Pursue Jesus, to be like Him, and you will overcome the desires of the world and receive heavenly reward.

Pastor Dale

Notes of Faith September 8, 2023

Notes of Faith September 8, 2023

Fasting, Feasting, and Our Daily Bread

Following the Diet of Jesus

Article by David Mathis

Executive Editor, desiringGod.org

Some have their fifteen minutes of fame. Henry Tanner had his forty days.

In the summer of 1880, the Minneapolis homeopath shocked the medical establishment by fasting on stage in Manhattan, under round-the-clock supervision. Tanner had something to prove, as journalist Steve Hendricks tells the story in his recent book The Oldest Cure in the World. Tanner believed in the “restorative biochemistry” of fasting — that going without food for extended periods could be “regenerative” or even “curative.” By depriving the system of food, and relieving the burden of digestion, the human body could turn its energy elsewhere. Give the gut a break for days, even weeks, and the body could “cure itself” from a number of conditions.

For Tanner, this was no mere theory. He claimed to have fasted for forty-two days in 1879 and been healed of several ailments. When his report was doubted, he offered to go forty days again, the following year, this time under full surveillance.

So, for forty days, Tanner ate no food and drank only water. Doctors claimed he would die in ten or twelve days. From Day 6 to 40, the New York Times and other major outlets reported on Tanner’s progress. In the end, Tanner succeeded both in accomplishing the feat and playing well to the crowds who came daily to the theater.

Thanks to a Little Fast

Fasting as a cure for disease has a long and varied history, though often at the civilizational margins. Hendricks writes,

Skip dinner tonight, and by the time you rise tomorrow, your body will have spent a few hours making the most intricate fixes to cellular components that were damaged during the day, and it will have recycled other parts too far gone to be fixed. Defects that might have turned into cancer or a stroke will have now, thanks to a little deprivation, been refashioned to yield a healthier cell. These processes occur in us every day when our only fast is from the midnight snack to breakfast at dawn, but they’re accelerated enormously when we extend the nightly fast, and fasting for multiple days supercharges them. (30)

“Who knew that giving our stomachs a break might actually do us some good?”

Who knew that giving our stomachs a break might actually do our bodies some good?

Yet in our age of abundance, even decadence, such claims can be unnerving to consider. Very likely, this was not your mother’s counsel. Have we long assumed not eating to be the path to sickness and disease, while slowly eating ourselves to death?

Eat God’s World

God made us to eat. And he created a wonderfully edible world.

The opening chapters of Genesis tell us that God made trees “pleasant to the sight and good for food” (Genesis 2:9), and he designed us to eat his world, both plants and animals (Genesis 1:29; 9:3). For millennia, humans did just that, until God led a special people out from Egyptian slavery and assigned them various dietary restrictions. From Moses until Jesus, under the terms of the old covenant, God taught his people — and the nations, through them — of their sin and need for him, and anticipated the coming of his Son.

With the coming of Christ came the fulfilling of the old covenant, bringing it to its appointed consummation. Jesus inaugurated a new covenant, for people from every nation. In the course of his ministry, Jesus “declared all foods clean” (Mark 7:19; also Romans 14:20), and yet his own approach to food was not simplistic, but varied and flexible — marked by the kind of resilience we might expect the “fearfully and wonderfully made” human body to be capable of (Psalm 139:14).

When You Feast

Some of us might be surprised to learn that Jesus feasted. But he was, after all, a first-century Jew. The nation’s collective life turned on annual feasts — and three in particular, which the Gospel of John mentions Jesus participating in (John 2:23; 7:2; 10:22; 13:1). Jesus attended nonnational feasts as well, like Levi’s “great feast” (Luke 5:29) and the famous wedding feast at Cana (John 2:8–9), where he blessed and enhanced the feast by turning water to wine. In his parables, Jesus compared his kingdom to such feasts (Matthew 22:2–9; 25:10; Luke 12:36). Unlike his cousin John, who was known for abstaining, Jesus came “eating and drinking,” and was slandered as “a glutton and a drunkard” (Luke 7:34).

Significantly, in Luke 14:13–14, Jesus assumes his followers will celebrate occasions of feasting: “When you give a feast,” he says — not if, but when — “invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you.” So too Christ’s apostles, without commanding any particular Christian feasts (Romans 14:4–6), assumed that Christians would, at times, feast (2 Peter 2:13; Jude 12). Feasting, in gratitude to our God and with delight in him, honors him as the all-sufficient Giver. We rejoice in him in and through the joy of food and drink, with friends and family.

Yet in all that commendation of feasting, those of us today, living in the breadbasket of modern abundance, will do well to hear the implicit warning our Lord leaves in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. He introduces the rich man, who we learn now to be in torment in Hades, as one “who feasted sumptuously every day” (Luke 16:19). The caution for us, among other aspects of the parable, is feasting every day — a temptation all too real in the modern world.

When You Fast

Of course, Jesus assumes not only that we will feast, but also that we will fast. In Matthew 6:16–17, he says to his disciples, “when you fast,” not if. And without explicitly commanding his followers to fast on specific occasions, he promises, in Matthew 9:15, “they will fast.” (We see the promise play out in Acts 13:2–3 and 14:23, when the early church, with her groom away, takes up the old practice now made new.)

As a Jew, Jesus himself observed the annual fast, that is, the Day of Atonement, with the whole nation. We might assume he also fasted on other spontaneous occasions, as modeled in the Old Testament. Most notably, Jesus fasted forty days in the wilderness, in preparation for his public ministry (Matthew 4:2; Luke 4:2). Significantly, the Gospels only mention his hunger and him not eating. Unlike the miraculous fast of Moses at Sinai (Exodus 34:28), no mention is made of Jesus going without water. Which likely means this was a natural, fully human fast — one like Henry Tanner would demonstrate humanity capable of.

God designed our bodies not only for food — to eat and enjoy his world — but also to be able to go long periods of time, longer than most of us are comfortable thinking about, in fasting. Fasting accompanies heartfelt prayer in expressing special longing for some particular divine provision or help, and going without such a basic comfort of daily life highlights God’s value beyond his blessings and focuses our affections afresh on him.

As with feasting, Jesus both models and commends fasting, and leaves us a caution. In the parable of the Pharisee and publican, he takes aim at “some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and treated others with contempt” (Luke 18:9). Among other boasts, the Pharisee declares, “I fast twice a week” (Luke 18:12). The publican, on the other hand, acknowledges himself a sinner and begs God for mercy. Jesus then comments, hauntingly, “I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other” (Luke 18:14).

Jesus’s warning, reminiscent of the condemnations in Isaiah 58, reminds us that the act of fasting can be hollowed of its God-honoring meaning and made into an effort to twist his arm. Similarly, we find in the letters of Paul a handful of warnings against the misuse of fasting (Romans 14:3, 6; 1 Timothy 4:3; Colossians 2:16).

Whether You Eat, Fast, or Feast

While Jesus commends (and cautions) both feasting and fasting — and assumes his followers will do both — his model prayer for his disciples brings everyday moderation to the fore: “Give us this day our daily bread” (Matthew 6:11).

Far and away, most days are daily-bread days. They are occasions neither for feasting nor fasting, given neither to indulgence nor abstaining, but rather devoted to a virtue that can be one of the hardest of all in times of plenty and lack: self-control. The Christian’s day-in, day-out relationship to food is one we navigate in the fuzzy, though real, bounds of moderation, in between the punctuations of fasting and feasting. That is, we receive God’s regular provision of food with enjoyment, marked by thanksgiving and self-control (1 Timothy 4:4–5).

“Many of us today neither feast well, nor fast at all.”

Many of us today neither feast well, nor fast at all. Oh, we feast. We live with such abundance, much of it edible, that we can hardly keep from daily overindulgence, without pushing against the grain of our society. We feast often, and without even recognizing it. What used to be feasting is now just the “standard American diet” (SAD). Without some countercultural moxie, many find themselves drifting toward obesity unawares.

But if our assumptions and habits have conditioned us one way, then we do have hope for training our stomachs differently.

Train for ‘Metabolic Flexibility’

Here we again accent the amazing biology of the human body. Our bodies can be far more resilient than we’ve learned to expect, and with some thoughtful conditioning they can become even more so, ready to flex for both fasting and feasting, to both enjoy occasions of abundance and endure times of famine. We can train ourselves to go longer without food than we’re prone to think. As Jay Richards writes in Eat, Fast, Feast, “God fitted the human form to thrive in a host of different ecosystems and diets, as we would expect of a Creator who called us to multiply and fill the whole earth” (11).

Richards advocates what he calls a “fasting lifestyle” in which we condition ourselves, over time, to be “metabolically flexible.” With less thoughtless everyday feasting, and more regular fasts (beginning with a meal, then two, then working up to a few days), many of us (some medical conditions notwithstanding) can train our stomachs, and souls, to be like the apostle who testified,

I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:11–13)

Christians in general, and perhaps Protestants in particular, haven’t always excelled at such learning — which is not simply a learning of the mind but of the body. In our good and right emphasis on God’s astounding grace in Christ, have we undersold the astounding abilities of the God-designed human body? And have we failed to put our metabolic flexibility to spiritual use, through Christian fasting, not just intermittent fasting for bodily health?

Every Meal Holy

How fitting that Paul’s penetrating charge to consecrate our every action to God’s glory mentions such trivial (and massive) realities as eating and drinking: “Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31). And not just to the God of monotheism, but the Christ of Christianity: “Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him” (Colossians 3:17).

In the end, we may discover all sorts of human wisdom in countercultural daily moderation, flanked by a learned metabolic flexibility primed for occasional feasts and fasts. Such seems far more enduringly human than our modern context of excess and overreaction. But as Christians, our goal isn’t merely to be more human looking backward (to Eden). We long to be more human looking upward, to the God-man, now risen and glorified, seated at his Father’s right hand. And we look forward, beyond the final conquest of sin and the curse, to the city that is to come, where we will, at last, fully enjoy God in the unencumbered humanity we were destined for. “The Lord Jesus Christ . . . will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself” (Philippians 3:20–21).

We pray, with Jesus, for the daily bread of moderation. We hear his commendation, and see his example, of occasional feasting and fasting, and consider their God-glorifying potential. We hear his cautions about everyday feasting and about pharisaical fasting. And we again consecrate ourselves, and our stomachs, to him, “in the name of the Lord Jesus,” the one who strengthens us.

Fasting is not for the weak of faith… It is to focus our mind, heart, and body on the desire and will of God. As our body craves food, we are to be reminded of the words of Jesus in …

John 4:32-34

"I have food to eat that you do not know about." 33 So the disciples were saying to one another, "No one brought Him anything to eat, did he?" 34 Jesus said to them, "My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me and to accomplish His work.

God has a will for each of us in this life…put simply, it is to be like Jesus. Jesus always did the will of His Father in heaven. Though living a life on earth, away from His perfect heavenly kingdom, He lived our human life always doing the will of the Father. So should we, but we are not focused on the right food. Remember this, you are what you eat! This is true not only for what you take into your body through your mouth but also for the consumption of what you hear and see. These things tend to take our time and focus off of God and away from His will for us. Let us strive to eat food that truly blesses us…rejoicing in the presence and relationship with our living Creator and Sustainer. He is what we all need more of.

Pastor Dale

Notes of Faith September 7, 2023

Notes of Faith September 7, 2023

Can I Lose My Salvation?

Many Christians are being misled by the lie that somehow they may have lost their salvation — or might lose it if they aren’t careful. They live in the constant grip of fear that their sins will disqualify them from being a Christian. Some churches even teach that it’s not really possible for a Christian to know for sure that they are saved. The good news is that God does want us to have assurance of our salvation, and the Bible says as much:

I have written these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God so that you may know that you have eternal life. — 1 John 5:13

The lie that we can lose our salvation or can never know whether we’re truly saved is a perversion of the true gospel, and it hinders believers from living in and embracing the freedom, peace, and joy the gospel promises.

We’re going to look at some important biblically supported doctrines and teachings that can set every Christian free from the fear that salvation is fragile, fleeting, or uncertain. Perhaps the most important doctrine is eternal security. Sometimes referred to as “once saved, always saved,” eternal security is the theological belief that once a person places genuine faith in Jesus Christ, their salvation is eternally secure. In other words, they no longer have to fear going to hell. It is impossible for this person to lose or even forfeit their salvation.

I admit that’s a very bold statement. So it’s essential to support it with a strong biblical foundation that demonstrates why the opposing view doesn’t stack up. Before we dig into the doctrine of eternal security, let’s examine how and why it’s so dangerous for a Christian to deny this doctrine of eternal security.

The Consequences of Denying Eternal Security

Understanding this doctrine of eternal security is not just some theological exercise to make you sound intelligent. The way you view your salvation has ramifications for how you relate to God and live your daily life as a Christian.

If you believe your salvation is on shaky ground, you will relate to God on the basis of fear rather than faith.

Everything you do for Him will be motivated by fear rather than love. Denying this doctrine will inevitably set up a legalistic relationship between you and God. Legalism demands that you perfectly adhere to a set of rules to secure or keep your salvation. It also suggests that God’s love for you and His acceptance of you fluctuates depending on your behavior.

Instead of experiencing the peace and joy that come from knowing your salvation is secure, you will live in a constant state of uncertainty, wondering day after day if you’ve done enough to keep from losing your salvation. That uncertainty might make you try to get saved and baptized again and again just to make sure you’re going to heaven. My friend, God doesn’t want that for you. He wants you to be free. He wants you to enjoy the peace and freedom that come from knowing what your Savior did for you on the cross.

We’re saved by grace alone through a genuine belief in the finished work of Jesus Christ on the cross.

Biblical Pillars of Eternal Security

I liken eternal security to a house with eight pillars. Each of these pillars is essential for this house to stand. I hope this chapter provides you with such overwhelming biblical evidence for the security of your salvation that you’ll never doubt it again.

Pillar #1: Perseverance

This first pillar is that of perseverance, or the perseverance of the saints. This doctrine states that those who are truly born again will be empowered by the Spirit to continue to believe until the day they die. We don’t persevere in our own strength. We persevere because the Spirit of God, who lives within us, empowers us to do so. Several scriptures support this teaching:

Therefore, my dear friends, just as you have always obeyed, so now, not only in my presence but even more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling. For it is God who is working in you both to will and to work according to his good purpose. — Philippians 2:12–13

Notice that we’re encouraged to work out our salvation, not work for it.

There is a huge difference between the words out and for! Working for our salvation would imply that we must do something to earn it or complete it. Working out our salvation implies that we’re already saved, and we are simply trying to grow in our faith and sanctification. To echo Charles Spurgeon, we are “working out” what has already been “worked in.”1 As Spurgeon pointed out, God has already worked His salvation in us, and we are simply working it out in our daily lives. This raises some good questions you may be wondering about: Couldn’t a Christian simply walk away from the faith and give up on the entire thing? Can’t they decide at any point that they no longer want to be a Christian? In other words, can a Christian renounce or forfeit their own faith and thus not persevere?

Before we answer that, it’s critical that we establish one very important truth:

There is a difference between genuine Christians and professing Christians.

Some profess to be Christians but are not. They seem like Christians, at least on the surface. They attend church like Christians. They give money like Christians. They talk like Christians. They may even listen to Christian music! But none of these things mean they are actually Christians. Jesus warned about this:

Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of Heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in Heaven. On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, didn’t we prophesy in your name, drive out demons in your name, and do many miracles in your name?’ Then I will announce to them, ‘I never knew you. Depart from me, you lawbreakers!’ — Matthew 7:21–23

There are a few important details to highlight in this passage. First, the people were saying the right things. But Jesus said that many who say, “Lord, Lord,” will not enter the kingdom of heaven. Second, they were doing what appeared to be the right things. They were involved in religious activities that most people would attribute to Christians. Third, based on what they said to Jesus on the Day of Judgment, these people seemed to be depending on these religious activities to get them into Heaven. But religious activities don’t save us. We’re saved by grace alone through a genuine belief in the finished work of Jesus Christ on the cross.

Fourth and finally, focus on four very important words: I never knew you. Jesus did not say, “I don’t know you anymore.” That would have implied a previous relationship that had been lost. The fact that He said I never knew you reveals that there was never a relationship to begin with.

So professing Christians can turn away from the faith because their faith wasn’t genuine in the first place. This is called apostasy. Genuine Christians cannot apostatize. In other words, genuine Christians will not totally and finally turn away from the faith. Let’s define these two words. Totally means that genuine Christians may struggle in some aspects of their faith, but they won’t renounce Christianity entirely. Finally means that it is quite possible and common, for that matter, for genuine Christians to experience a temporary lapse in their faith, but they will return at some point. (Peter denied that he even knew Jesus, then became one of the greatest leaders in the early church for Jesus!) Pastor Dale comment

Another consideration that relates to the question of whether a genuine Christian can renounce their faith involves how Jesus described genuine salvation. In John 3, Jesus said that we must be “born again.” Let’s analyze this concept. When a person is born physically, is there anything they can do to undo that fact? You may say, “Well, they can commit suicide.” While that’s true, it doesn’t negate the fact that they were born first. Does that make sense? Taking one’s life doesn’t erase the fact that they were born. In the same way, once a person is born again, there is nothing they can do to undo their spiritual birth. Just as babies have nothing to do with their physical birth, a person who is born again has nothing to do with their spiritual rebirth.

Another scripture that strongly supports the distinction between genuine Christians and those who are merely professing Christians is 1 John 2:19:

They went out from us, but they did not belong to us; for if they had belonged to us, they would have remained with us. However, they went out so that it might be made clear that none of them belongs to us.

To summarize, there can only be three possible explanations for leaving the faith.

The first possibility is that they were never saved to begin with. They professed to be but were never truly converted.

The second possibility is that they remain saved but will be severely disciplined by their Father (see Hebrews 12).

The third possibility is that they are in an extreme but temporary state of backsliding and rebellion, but God knows they will return to Him later.

The Bible teaches that those who are truly regenerate will indeed persevere in the faith. Perseverance is not something we do to earn our salvation, but rather something God empowers us to do to keep us walking in the salvation He’s already given us.

Excerpted from Misled by Allen Parr, copyright Allen G. Parr Jr.

Just a few verses to contemplate about being eternally secure in your salvation…

John 6:37

37 "All that the Father gives Me will come to Me, and the one who comes to Me I will certainly not cast out.

John 6:44

"No one can come to Me unless the Father who sent Me draws him; and I will raise him up on the last day.

John 10:27-30

"My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me; 28 and I give eternal life to them, and they will never perish; and no one will snatch them out of My hand. 29 "My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father's hand. 30 "I and the Father are one."

Being born again is a spiritual act that has taken place through the faith God has given you to believe in Jesus and the work He did to redeem you. He saved you! You will never be taken from His hand by Satan, false teachers, so-called friends, or even yourself…you are unable to jump out of His hand. He will hold you for all eternity! Praise God for His love for you!

Pastor Dale

Notes of Faith September 6, 2023

Notes of Faith September 6, 2023

Sending this one early as tomorrow is traveling day from visiting family in Kentucky returning to California. Please say a prayer for safe travels… Thank you!

‘Just Not Feeling It’

How Routine Awakens Devotion

Article by Scott Hubbard

Editor, desiringGod.org

“Not feeling like it.” In the daily pursuit of Christ, I fear no phrase has hindered me more.

A few moments’ reflection reminds me of the silliness of such a feelings-based spirituality. A farmer will find nothing at harvest if he sets aside his plow with a wave of “not feeling like it.” A pianist will end her performances embarrassed if she takes a “not feeling like it” attitude to her practices. A couple will greet their anniversary with an unromantic sigh if they allow “not feeling like it” to govern their marriage.

Yet how often have I sidestepped habits of grace with a subtle, unspoken “not feeling like it” — and have expected to somehow still mature in faith and love and feel the spontaneous joy of the Spirit?

Any number of reasons stand ready to endorse the lazy slouch. “I don’t want to be a hypocrite.” “I have so much to do today anyway.” “I’ll get more from Scripture when I feel like reading it.” And perhaps the most common: “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Meanwhile, today’s spiritual potential — today’s comfort, joy, power, life — disappears on the winds of whim.

Reclaiming Routine

To some, the word routine carries the stiffness of stale bread and the rot of dead plants, the stuffiness of library books never opened and attics dusty with age. The very thought of routine spirituality — planned, scheduled, disciplined — seems to undermine the ministry of the life-giving, freedom-bestowing Spirit. “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom” (2 Corinthians 3:17) — and where the spirit of routine is (we may think), there is bondage.

The dichotomy, however, is self-imposed, self-imagined. If routine smells stale to us, the problem lies in our own sniffer. No doubt, routine can be made stale and dead, as any flower can be trampled underfoot or any sky cloaked with smog. But routine itself remains good, the friend of freedom and joy.

We might call any number of witnesses to testify on behalf of routine: Daniel, who “got down on his knees” and prayed “three times a day” (Daniel 6:10), whether lions waited or not; Peter and John, who went to the temple “at the hour of prayer” even after Pentecost brought the Spirit (Acts 3:1); or our Lord Jesus himself, who spontaneously defeated the devil’s lies, after fasting for forty days, because he had routinely memorized Deuteronomy (Matthew 4:1–10).

But perhaps the most striking ode to routine appears in Psalm 119.

Routines Like Riverbeds

None who read Psalm 119 would diagnose its author as dry; none who take up his psalm can sing it in hushed tones. The man sounds as alive as a spring sparrow, as exuberant as the exclamations in so many of his sentences. He isn’t always joyful, but oh, how he feels, freely and spontaneously. The whole psalm is a living pulse.

“Blessed are you, O Lord!” he shouts (verse 12). His soul, like his song, “is consumed with longing for your rules at all times” (verse 20). Both midnight and early morning may find him awake (verses 62, 147), too ecstatic to sleep, for “your testimonies are my delight” (verse 24). His hates and his loves burn too bright to be hidden (verses 104, 119).

“Under God, routines carve riverbeds in the soul where the streams of spontaneous love run deep.”

We might imagine such spontaneous affection lives beyond our reach, the possession of a super-spiritual personality. Pay attention to the psalm, however, and you may notice something that rivals the intensity of his feelings: the consistency of his routine. Scripture poured out of the man’s heart only because he had previously, even fastidiously, “stored” it there (verse 11). “I set your rules before me” was the watchword of his life, no matter the day (verse 30). With a devotion that might make us uncomfortable, he declares, “Seven times a day I praise you for your righteous rules” (verse 164).

Disciplined memorization, daily meditation, planned prayer and praise — under God, such routines carve riverbeds in the soul where the streams of spontaneous love run deep. They raise windmills in the heart to catch the breezes of the Spirit. Routines cannot give life of themselves, but they do invite life with all the readiness of a field furrowed, planted, and waiting for the rain.

String and Tune

Psalm 119 (and the rest of God’s word) gives us a robust category for spontaneous spirituality, for prayer and praise that fill the nets of ordinary moments and threaten to sink us for joy. But we have little hope of experiencing spontaneous devotion apart from the unspectacular business of routine. Daily we let down our nets; daily we take them up again; daily we wait for Jesus to bring the catch.

As we consider what routines might serve spontaneity best, we might helpfully think in two broad patterns: morning devotions and midday retreats. If morning devotions string our guitars, midday retreats retune them. If morning devotions inflate our hearts toward heaven, midday retreats give the bump that keeps us skyward. If morning devotions plant a flag for Christ on the hill of dawn, midday retreats beat off the afternoon foes ascending the slopes.

MORNING DEVOTIONS

In all likelihood, we learned morning devotions as part of Discipleship 101. Repent, believe, and read your Bible every morning. But for that very reason, we can forget just how powerful and formative this pattern of seeking God can be.

There is a reason the psalmists prayed “in the morning” (Psalm 5:3), and sought deep satisfaction “in the morning” (Psalm 90:14), and declared God’s steadfast love “in the morning” (Psalm 92:2). There is a reason, too, we read of Jesus “rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark,” to commune with his Father (Mark 1:35). The morning’s first thoughts and words may not set an iron trajectory for the rest of the day, but a trajectory they do indeed set.

“We have little hope of experiencing spontaneous devotion apart from the unspectacular business of routine.”

Though we have new hearts in Christ, we do not always awake ready to live new. Our old man awakes with us, clinging close; Vanity Fair opens early; the devil waits, winking. Apart from some kind of Godward morning routine, then, we are likely to express throughout the day not spontaneous praise, but spontaneous pride; not spontaneous gratitude, but spontaneous grumbling. And so, in the morning, the wise want the first voice they hear to be God’s. They want the first words they speak to be prayer.

We will not always leave our morning devotions deeply moved. But if done prayerfully and earnestly, consistently and expectantly, then our devotions will set a tone for the hours ahead. We will walk into our day with guitar stringed, more ready to play a song of praise.

MIDDAY RETREATS

As valuable as morning devotions can be, however, souls like ours often need more to maintain a lively, spontaneous communion with God throughout the day. As the hours pass by, our strings lose their tune; our hearts drop altitude; our flags wave opposed. So, God gives us another pattern to live by:

These words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates. (Deuteronomy 6:6–9)

We are too weak, too forgetful, to live by morning devotions alone. As we walk through the day, we need promises wrapped round our wrists like watches. We need to wear truth like eyeglasses. We need a world adorned with the words of God.

Signs, frontlets, doorposts — such words sanction our creativity. They invite us, for example, to sanctify space, writing God’s words on mirrors and walls, car dashboards and desks. Some might replace their phone’s screen saver with a promise from the morning’s reading; others might write down a verse and slip it in their pocket. A friend in college, taking Deuteronomy 6:8 literally, sometimes drew the armor of God on his hands, a vivid reminder of the day’s spiritual warfare.

These words also invite us to sanctify time. Many would find help from retreating once or twice a day, even for a few minutes, to find a silent spot, hear again God’s words, and cast the day’s accumulated burdens on him. We might also benefit from simply pausing briefly before meetings or new tasks to settle our souls in Christ.

Finally, these words invite us to sanctify conversation. “You . . . shall talk of them,” God says — and not just in some places occasionally, but everywhere often. God means for his words to infiltrate our small talk and passing comments, our summaries of the day and our pillow-time reflections. Such conversations might start with a simple “What did you read today?” to spouse or roommate or friend.

However they come, midday retreats offer a pause and parenthesis in the day’s chaos, an oasis in the wilderness of tasks and temptations, a small Sabbath in the middle of packed afternoons, retuning our hearts to the morning’s song.

Revived and Rejoicing

The next time “not feeling like it” threatens to derail a good routine, we might confront our feelings with the words of David:

The law of the Lord is perfect,

reviving the soul; . . .

the precepts of the Lord are right,

rejoicing the heart. (Psalm 19:7–8)

God’s word revives the soul and rejoices the heart — which suggests we will sometimes come to God’s word with souls asleep and hearts unfeeling. We will sit before an open Bible not wanting to read or pray, perhaps wanting to do anything else instead. And right there, in the midst of a difficult routine, God may revive our drooping feelings with a word.

When we allow “not feeling like it” to keep us from routine, we are like a man who avoids medicine because he doesn’t feel healthy, or who avoids fire because he doesn’t feel warm, or who avoids food because he doesn’t feel full. But when we engage in routine anyway — prayerfully and expectantly — we may walk away revived and rejoicing, our souls alive with spontaneous praise, “not feeling like it” nowhere to be found.

I don’t feel like it… doesn’t work, unless you are really sick, and in most of those cases you would do what you know you need to do. I don’t feel like it is more of an emotional response and spiritually it stems from sin and disobedience to God and listening to and following the temptations of Satan. Do the will of God whether you feel like it or not and you will find that He will fulfill the desire of your heart by changing your desires to be like His. Then you will feel like it!

Love God! Love others!

Pastor Dale

Notes of Faith September 5, 2023

Notes of Faith September 5, 2023

God Will Help You

As famous lakes go, Galilee — only thirteen miles at its longest, seven and a half at its widest — is a small, moody one. The diminutive size makes it more vulnerable to the winds that howl out of the Golan Heights. They turn the lake into a blender, shifting suddenly, blowing first from one direction, then another. Winter months bring such storms every two weeks or so, churning the waters for two to three days at a time.1

When Peter and a few other disciples found themselves in the middle of Galilee one stormy night, they knew they were in trouble:

But the boat was now in the middle of the sea, tossed by the waves, for the wind was contrary. — Matthew 14:24

What should have been a sixty-minute cruise became a nightlong battle. The boat lurched and lunged like a kite in a March wind. Sunlight was a distant memory. Rain fell from the night sky in buckets. Lightning sliced the blackness with a silver sword. Winds whipped the sails, leaving the disciples “in the middle of the sea, tossed by the waves.” Apt description, perhaps, for your stage in life? Perhaps all we need to do is substitute a couple of nouns…

In the middle of a divorce, tossed about by guilt.

In the middle of debt, tossed about by creditors.

In the middle of a recession, tossed about by stimulus packages and bailouts.

The disciples fought the storm for nine cold, skin-drenching hours. And about 4:00 a.m. the unspeakable happened. They spotted someone coming on the water.

‘A ghost!’ they said, crying out in terror. — Matthew 14:26 MSG

They didn’t expect Jesus to come to them this way.

Neither do we. We expect Him to come in the form of peaceful hymns or Easter Sundays or quiet retreats. We expect to find Jesus in morning devotionals, church suppers, and meditation. We never expect to see Him in a bear market, pink slip, lawsuit, foreclosure, or war.

We never expect to see Him in a storm.

But it is in storms that He does His finest work, for it is in storms that He has our keenest attention. Jesus replied to the disciples’ fear with an invitation worthy of inscription on every church cornerstone and residential archway.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ He said. ‘Take courage. I am here!’ — Matthew 14:7 NLT

Power inhabits those words. To awaken in an ICU and hear your husband say, “I am here.” To lose your retirement yet feel the support of your family in the words “We are here.” When a Little Leaguer spots Mom and Dad in the bleachers watching the game, “I am here” changes everything. Perhaps that’s why God repeats the “I am here” pledge so often.

The Lord is near (Philippians 4:5 NIV).

You are in Me, and I am in you (John 14:20 NIV).

I am with you always, to the very end of the age (Matthew 28:20 NIV).

I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of My hand (John 10:28 NIV).

Nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow — not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love (Romans 8:38 NLT).

We cannot go where God is not. Look over your shoulder; that’s God following you. Look into the storm; that’s Christ coming toward you.

Much to Peter’s credit, he took Jesus at His word.

‘Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You on the water.’ So He said, ‘Come.’ And when Peter had come down out of the boat, he walked on the water to go to Jesus”. — Matthew 14:28–29

Peter never would have made this request on a calm sea. Had Christ strolled across a lake that was as smooth as mica, Peter would have applauded, but I doubt he would have stepped out of the boat.

Storms prompt us to take unprecedented journeys.

For a few historic steps and heart-stilling moments, Peter did the impossible. He defied every law of gravity and nature; “he walked on the water to go to Jesus.”

My editors wouldn’t have tolerated such brevity. They would have flooded the margin with red ink: “Elaborate! How quickly did Peter exit the boat?

What were the other disciples doing?

What was the expression on his face?

Did he step on any fish?”

Matthew had no time for such questions. He moves us quickly to the major message of the event: where to stare in a storm.

But when [Peter] saw that the wind was boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink he cried out, saying, ‘Lord, save me!’ — Matthew 14:30

A wall of water eclipsed his view. A wind gust snapped the mast with a crack and a slap. A flash of lightning illuminated the lake and the watery Appalachians it had become. Peter shifted his attention away from Jesus and toward the squall, and when he did, he sank like a brick in a pond. Give the storm waters more attention than the Storm Walker and get ready to do the same.

Whether or not storms come, we cannot choose. But where we stare during a storm, that we can.

I found a direct example of this truth while sitting in my cardiologist’s office. My heart rate was misbehaving, taking the pace of a NASCAR race and the rhythm of a Morse code message. So I went to a specialist. After reviewing my tests and asking me some questions, the doctor nodded knowingly and told me to wait for him in his office.

I didn’t like being sent to the principal’s office as a kid. I don’t like being sent to the doctor’s office as a patient. But I went in, took a seat, and quickly noticed the doctor’s abundant harvest of diplomas. They were everywhere, from everywhere. One degree from the university. Another degree from a residency.

The more I looked at his accomplishments, the better I felt. I’m in good hands. About the time I leaned back in the chair to relax, his nurse entered and handed me a sheet of paper. “The doctor will be in shortly,” she explained. “In the meantime he wants you to acquaint yourself with this information. It summarizes your heart condition.”

I lowered my gaze from the diplomas to the summary of the disorder. As I read, contrary winds began to blow. Unwelcome words like atrial fibrillation, arrhythmia, embolic stroke, and blood clot caused me to sink into my own Sea of Galilee.

What happened to my peace? I was feeling much better a moment ago. So I changed strategies. I counteracted diagnosis with diplomas. In between paragraphs of bad news, I looked at the wall for reminders of good news. That’s what God wants us to do.

His call to courage is not a call to naïveté or ignorance. We aren’t to be oblivious to the overwhelming challenges that life brings. We’re to counterbalance them with long looks at God’s accomplishments.

We must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, so that we do not drift away from it. — Hebrews 2:1 NASB

Do whatever it takes to keep your gaze on Jesus.

This is what Peter learned to do. After a few moments of flailing in the water, he turned back to Christ and cried,

‘Lord, save me!’ Immediately Jesus reached out His hand and caught him. ‘You of little faith,’ He said, ‘why did you doubt?’ And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. — Matthew 14:30-32 NIV

Jesus could have stilled this storm hours earlier. But He didn’t. He wanted to teach the followers a lesson. Jesus could have calmed your storm long ago too. But He hasn’t. Does He also want to teach you a lesson? Could that lesson read something like this: “Storms are not an option, but fear is”?

God has hung His diplomas in the universe. Rainbows, sunsets, horizons, and star-sequined skies. He has recorded His accomplishments in Scripture. We’re not talking six thousand hours of flight time. His résumé includes Red Sea openings. Lions’ mouths closings. Goliath topplings. Lazarus raisings. Storm stillings and strollings.

His lesson is clear. He’s the commander of every storm. Are you scared in yours? Then stare at Him.

God’s Word for You

Allow these passages from God’s Word to remind you that God will help you through your fears.

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. — Joshua 1:9 NIV

The Lord doesn’t just take away our fear; He replaces it with strength and courage.

But now, thus says the Lord, who created you, O Jacob,

And He who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; You are Mine.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;

And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, Nor shall the flame scorch you. For I am the Lord your God. — Isaiah 43:1-3

The Lord has called you by name and you are His. Allow this truth to comfort your fears.

Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. — John 14:27

These are the words of Christ. Receive his peace as a gift that has already been offered to you.

There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear. — 1 John 4:18

Your fear is not of God or from God. His love casts out fear.

Read the following prayer, silently or aloud. When you have finished praying, spend a moment in silence, listening for the voice of God.

God, thank You for reminding me of Your power today. Just as Jesus walked on water, so can You calm the storms around me. I often feel afraid when life gets stormy. I can’t see my way out. I feel vulnerable to what I cannot control. Help me fix my gaze on You today. Remind me of who You are and what You are capable of. Ease my fears and replace them with peace. Calm my anxious thoughts. Help me love those around me and be present with them, which is hard to do during a difficult time. Whenever I feel afraid, or my thoughts feel out of control, may I see the image of Christ walking on the water extending His hand to help me. May I trust Christ more than myself, more than others, more than what I tend to focus on during times like this. May my gaze always be fixed on Him. In Jesus’ name I pray, amen.

Shelley Wachsmann, The Sea of Galilee Boat: An Extraordinary 2000 Year Old Discovery (New York: Plenum Press, 1995), 39, 121.

Excerpted from God Will Help You by Max Lucado, copyright Max Lucado.

No matter the battle, concern, or struggle we encounter, if we understand that Jesus is right there with us, the calm peace of His presence and power banishes our fear. As a child of God, He is always with you, especially in the storms of this life. He is preparing you for the life to come. He is perfecting your faith and making you fit for His eternal home.

Pastor Dale

Notes of Faith September 4, 2023

Notes of Faith September 4, 2023

Covered by Grace: Dealing with Shame

State Shame versus Trait Shame

The temporary state of feeling shame when we realize that we have lost standing in someone’s eyes because we have done something wrong can be redemptive. As the theologian Lewis Smedes writes, “A healthy sense of shame is perhaps the surest sign of our divine origin and our human dignity. When we feel this sense of shame, we are feeling a nudge from our true selves.”1

But feeling shame as a more permanent trait—a sense that we are fundamentally flawed and are unworthy and unlovable — is toxic and destructive.

Healthy shame can function like a proximity sensor on a car, signaling that we have veered off in the wrong direction so we can steer back toward our divine origin. In the beginning we were made in the image of God, and before “original sin” we experienced original glory.

If shame tells us that we are not living the way we were designed to live, then before sin came into the world, shame was not an emotion human beings experienced. According to Genesis, Adam and Even existed in the garden of Eden naked and without shame. They lived not only physically naked in each other’s presence, but they were also psychologically and spiritually open and free with each other — a condition we’ve yearned for ever since.

But then sin and shame entered their story.

The very phrasing that Adam and Eve were both naked and felt no shame suggests that this emotion was about to enter their world. The biblical author could have written, “they were naked and happy,” or “they were naked and at home with themselves and each other.”2

Then Satan enters the garden of Eden and approaches Eve and Adam in the form of a serpent. When we hear the word “serpent,” we might imagine a hideous creature slithering on its belly. But according to some biblical scholars, before the serpent was cursed, it may well have been the most dazzlingly beautiful creature in the garden.

Scripture tells us that Satan was once an angel of light, but one who apparently didn’t feel like he was enough, so he aspired to be equal to God. This one who feels like he’s not enough approaches Adam and Eve and insinuates that they are not enough either. He whispers, “You could be so much more if you eat of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. You will be just like God, knowing good from evil. You will be fulfilled and free!”

The serpent suggests that by forbidding them to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, God doesn’t have their best interests at heart — and literally and figuratively, Adam and Eve bite.

But do they become like God? Fulfilled and free? A better version of themselves?

No — immediately, they sense that something has been taken from them, and they experience a feeling they have never known before: shame. Their instinct is to hide. So they reach for fig leaves to cover themselves (Genesis 3:7). When we turn away from our creator — the source of all beauty, love, and joy — instead of feeling that we are more, we feel that we are less. And even as we are turning away, we are longing to experience connection and belonging, to find someone who, despite our shame, will love us and say, “I am here, and I am not going anywhere.”

Covering Ourselves

Like Adam and Eve, shame makes us feel vulnerable and exposed, and so we avert our gaze, looking down and away, or curl in on ourselves, making ourselves small. When we feel this way — whether at a conscious or unconscious level — we frantically try to do something to cover ourselves so we don’t have to feel the pain of our shame.

Some of us may overwork as a way of covering our sense of deficiency. While I was in my twenties, I worked in the corporate world of Tokyo. My workday went from seven in the morning until just after eleven at night (including the commute time). In the shame and honor culture of Japan, “seven-eleven” men work long hours not only out of loyalty to the company but also to be seen by others as dutiful and hard-working.

Some of us might use sports as a way to cover ourselves. Growing up, I loved sports, especially informal games of hockey or football in the cul-de-sac in front of our home. But during high school, I began forming my identity around sports. I began to play sports as a way to earn respect and to impress girls who would otherwise not notice me.

Others might pursue knowledge and education as a kind of covering, a fig leaf to mask the nagging sense of not being enough. I have a brilliant and well-educated friend who has earned degrees from several prestigious schools and is a widely respected leader in his field. But in junior high, he was bullied because he wasn’t athletic, and sports were valued above all else. In the schoolyard, he hid from his peers and soothed himself by silently repeating, “I’m smarter than you. I’m smarter than you. I’m smarter than you.”

We can also use our ministry involvements to cover over our sense of inadequacy. Though I would love to say I have always engaged in my pastoral ministry solely for the glory of God and the good of others, if I am honest, I have to admit that a part of me has wanted to succeed in my vocation as a way to prove my worthiness.

We can also become religiously compulsive and obsessively conscientious as a way of masking our feelings of not being enough. Or we might cultivate a sculpted body, curate our image through social media, or try to raise accomplished children to cover up our inner shame.

All these psychological fig leaves of being more athletic or musical, smarter or better educated, thinner or beefier, higher on the ladder of our profession, amassing money or travel experiences, or being morally upright may make us feel temporarily better, but none of them will bring us the lasting, confident contentment we are seeking.

Trappist monk Thomas Merton observed that we try to clothe our invisible, nonexistent self in an attempt to make our invisible self more objectively real.3 We wrap achievements, novel experiences, pleasures, and material possessions around ourselves like bandages, believing that these coverings will make our invisible selves more visible.4

Merton described this self that we are trying to create by what we do, have, or accomplish as our false self.5

The False Self

Living for achievement, approval, pleasure, and material security will ultimately fail to cover and protect us. All these coverings are mere fig leaves that provide a very temporary and flimsy garment.

I have a friend who is a gifted actor, who can step into a variety of personas not only on a movie set but also in real-life interviews and social situations. He can play a brash, über-confident man or a deferential and solicitous one, a charming flirt or a shy and nervous misfit. But when we project a false self, the “self” that others love is not really us.

Furthermore, when we live from our constructed false self, we cannot truly experience the love of God, for as Thomas Merton contends, God does not know (and therefore cannot love) our false self. Merton goes on to say that to be unknown by God gives us way too much privacy!6

Coming Home to Our True Self

So how do we return to our true self? How do we recover our primal innocence of being “naked and without shame” before God? How can we exhibit the best qualities of a healthy and free child who has not yet learned to wear the cumbersome raincoat of shame, which repels the grace of God?7

In the words of a friend,

how can “we become who we were before the world told us who we had to be”?

How can we become more vulnerable and open, living from the deep center of our true selves rather than a projected image that will impress others or ourselves?

Where we can say with the poet May Sarton:

Now I become myself.

It’s taken Time, many years and places;

I have been dissolved and shaken,

Worn other people’s faces...

Now I become myself.8

How can we begin to live from our true self so we can truly experience the love of God, which will cover us with a lasting garment that protects us from the storms of life?

When we realize we have lost our keys, wallet, or something precious or important, we retrace our steps to the place we last remember having the lost item. We have all lost the innocent sense of being naked and unashamed, uninhibited and free, living from our deep center, our true self. So let us go back to where we last experienced that sense of uncovered vulnerability.

At the beginning of the biblical story, humans walked with God without shame in Eden in the cool of the day, enjoying true intimacy with the Creator.

We, too, can overcome our sense of shame as we walk with God and enjoy intimacy with our Maker.

When the light of God’s love shines into our lives, the diamond of our true self will be illuminated, and we will grow more beautiful and vulnerable, open and free. As we live in the light of this divine love, we will be freed of the shame that binds us.

Our deepest happiness will not come from pursuing achievement, pleasure, or material security, but from knowing and living in divine love. This love isn’t something we achieve but is a gift that we receive. It is not something we can create; it is conferred on us by another.

Lewis B. Smedes, Shame and Grace: Healing the Shame We Don’t Deserve (Lexington: Lexington Accessible Textbook Service, 2006), 32.

Curt Thompson, The Soul of Shame: Retelling the Stories We Believe about Ourselves (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2015), 99.

Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, 34–35.

Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, 34–35.

Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, 34–35.

Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, 34. Shame is not hardwired into us, but children as young as fifteen months can learn to feel shame.

May Sarton, “Now I Become Myself,” in Collected Poems, 1930– 1973 (New York: Norton, 1974), 156, used with permission. The poem was brought to my attention in Parker J. Palmer, Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2000), 9.

Excerpted from Now I Become Myself by Ken Shigematsu, copyright Ken Shigematsu.

The more intimate we become with God, the more we spend time with Him, the more we become like Jesus, the more we experience the love of God and not the shame of disobedience. Thought we can never be perfect until we are taken to be with God, we must strive to be holy, and pure while we live in this world. “Be holy for I am Holy, says the Lord. Draw close to God and He will draw close to you. He is always close…it is we who walk away in disobedience and shame.

Pastor Dale

Notes of Faith September 3, 2023

Notes of Faith September 3, 2023

A Little Vulnerability Can Change Your Life

I’m one of those all-in kinds of people. If I decide I like something, or that there’s something I want to try, there’s no going slowly and gently feeling my way through. For me it’s more like a blonde bull in the proverbial china shop yelling, “I’M HERE, Y’ALL!” I’m passionate about all the things I love: my people, my animals, my places, my food. And I’m extremely passionate about my faith.

Now, I wasn’t always that way; in fact, I was a believer for a long time before I was a passionate believer. I didn’t even know you could be all that excited about Jesus. I thought good Christians were reserved, soft-spoken, and super polite. Oh, and they were generally pretty old. Based on the elderly congregations I grew up with, I’d concluded it took many years to get Jesus all the way into a person.

My sweet friend Stephanie Payne showed me just how wrong I was. Stephanie and her husband, Tim, founded Momentum, a church in Gulf Breeze, Florida. I came to know them in the beginning stages of their church — about three months in, to be exact. I fell in love with who they were and the excitement of building something new in our town, and I was all in. Now, I will clarify that my version of being “all in” in a scenario like this rarely includes setting things up or taking them down (skills desperately needed in a new church that doesn’t have a permanent location) or cleaning things or cooking things — I’ve never been that all in for anything. So in this case my “all-in” status meant I was an excellent hype girl.

I was excited about all the possibilities this church brought to our little city. I loved meeting new people, and the way Tim preached was new to me. Tim was a bold, energetic, and passion-filled pastor — he spoke in a relatable, conversational way, holding my attention with stories about how the Bible’s teaching related to our everyday lives; he could make me laugh and bring me to tears in the space of twenty minutes. Prior to attending Momentum, I had attended mostly Catholic churches and one conservative Methodist one, where the pastor and priests — though wonderful in their own ways — were solemn and more prescriptive, with lots of recitation and little spontaneity. This more contemporary way of sharing Jesus excited me.

What does any of this have to do with vulnerability? Hold on, I promise I’m getting there.

Early on, Momentum introduced a program of community groups, creating a way to connect people within the church, to invite outsiders in, and to, well, love on one another. Some people call these Bible study groups or small groups or life groups; whatever the name, they were small gatherings of ten to twenty people where you talk about all things Jesus and life.

It sounded pretty good to me, and I signed up right away because, remember, I was all in. We were told that for the first semester of our group, we would meet weekly on Tuesdays and discuss Mark Batterson’s book The Circle Maker. Buying the book was easy. Reading the first chapter, per our assignment, was not quite as easy but more painless than I expected. (As you know, I’m not a big reader, but this book was engaging and gave me a new perspective on praying.)

Then, suddenly, the day arrived. It was time to actually show up. To get in the car and drive to the inaugural meeting of my new community group.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever been invited to a gathering of women where you don’t know any of them (except maybe the host or the one overly friendly neighbor who invited you), but I feel it is always, no matter my age, a little terrifying. In fact, I can work myself up into such a tizzy over not knowing anyone that I will back out of attending things like this entirely. It’s a little ridiculous when I say it out loud, but I have done this more than once. Many times more than once.

But this time, whether it was my comfort level with my weight at the time or my hair working particularly well that day, I decided to take a leap and attend the first meeting at Stephanie Payne’s home.

I had no idea what to expect other than some Jesus conversation, which I was certainly too biblically uneducated to partake in, but I figured I could listen and learn.

When I arrived, Stephanie greeted me at the door with a big hug and quickly introduced me to several of the women, two of whom I had already met at church. There was food laid out across the kitchen counters and a coffee station. Food and coffee is the right way to start anything, in my opinion. We talked for about twenty minutes and then Stephanie guided us into the living room, where people sat on the sofa, chairs, and the floor. It felt relaxed and comfortable. We talked about that week’s chapter of the book, and we shared about our lives, and then we prayed together. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? But something beautiful happened in that living room I had never experienced before — a group of mostly strangers became friends.

Let’s go back to the “we shared about our lives” part.

We opened up. I mean A LOT. We should have signed waivers that said, “What happens in small group stays in small group.” Stephanie had asked each of us, one by one, what she could specifically pray circles around. The first couple of answers were sweet and maybe what I would call polite “surface answers,” like someone’s daughter had a big exam the next day and someone else’s husband had an important business trip coming up. But then the third woman, as soon as Stephanie put a hand on her shoulder, broke down in tears. This sweet woman began to share about her difficulties at home and her husband’s addiction to alcohol. She shared her embarrassment and frustration and fear.

It took another woman’s vulnerability for me to be open and vulnerable about my own struggles.

Her vulnerability cut right through me. What she shared that day, that painful struggle of an alcoholic spouse, was the very same struggle I was experiencing in my own home. This was a few years before Craig’s sobriety and it was something I had been silent about, a deeply buried secret I was too ashamed to share with anyone.

But in my new friend’s heartbreaking and raw vulnerability, she gave me permission to share my own story. Although it took me a few weeks before I felt comfortable enough to speak up, when I did, it was as if the Hoover Dam itself had crashed down in tiny pieces, carrying with it the weight of my shame over Craig’s drinking. In that experience, I realized that

it took another woman’s vulnerability for me to be open and vulnerable about my own struggles. I felt like I had discovered a secret of the universe.

So let’s talk about that secret. Vulnerability.

First, being vulnerable is not weak. It can show weakness, but it is in no way weak. Quite the contrary — it takes a lot of courage to share pieces of ourselves with others, especially those areas we perceive as shameful or damaged.

Vulnerability is essential to real connection with other women. If we can agree that the opposite of being vulnerable is being protected, then let’s imagine that whatever armor is protecting us is also forming a heavy glass barrier between us and those around us. You and others can see each other just fine, and most people won’t even realize the barrier is there — until they get close, and BOOM. They bump up against your glass. Where we keep the armor, we have the barrier; where we smash it down, we get connection.

The great Brené Brown talks a lot about vulnerability, and I enthusiastically endorse just about everything she says, but I would like to put forth a slightly radical take on one of her pearls of wisdom. “Vulnerability,” she says, “is about sharing our feelings and our experiences with people who have earned the right to hear them.”1

I say maybe we shouldn’t always wait until someone has earned the right to hear our experiences.

I say we get vulnerable more liberally, sharing some of the ugly stuff when it feels right, even if it’s the first or second time we’ve met. If that woman from my community group at Stephanie’s house hadn’t shared about her alcoholic husband the first time we met, who knows what precedent would have been set? Who knows how long it would have taken for her words to move me to get vulnerable, what chain of events would have failed to be set off?

However, I also very much want to acknowledge that you’ve got to use some discretion here. There is an appropriate and an inappropriate time to share. If we share too much too fast in certain situations — like when you’re on a first date, or at the office, or checking out at the grocery store — it can not only push the other person away but might totally freak them out. And there’s no way to guarantee, even in the most appropriate circumstances, that the other person will respond in the way you hope they would.

But if your heart feels compelled to, give it a try. For me, when the day came that I finally told my new community group about the private, shame-inducing struggles in my home and marriage, I surrendered carrying the weight of that secret. I surrendered it to those women and I surrendered it to God. I was instantly lighter, and it was easier.

Was my whole life healed at that moment? Of course not. Saying it aloud did not end Craig’s addiction or my pain, but I was a little stronger, a little more capable of bearing the weight. I experienced the relief and hope that came with their heartfelt, beautiful, supportive, encouraging hugs and words. I saw empathy in their tears and knew I was not alone. With time, God did heal Craig’s addiction and our marriage, but for me, healing started in a room with real, raw, unapologetic sharing between women.

Brené Brown, Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead (NY: Avery, 2012), 45.

Excerpted from Midlife Battle Cry by Dawn Barton, copyright W Publishing.

Being vunerable is nt easy, but if you want the most intimate, trusting, faithful, relationship, whether spouse or friend, being vulnerable is necessary. We are made to bear one another’s burdens, to encourage and lift up, to be the love of Jesus to someone in need. The blessings return as we share our own struggles in life and others encourage and bless us. Let us learn to be vunerable with those closest to us, to receive blessings and give them in return.

Pastor Dale

Notes of Faith September 2, 2023

Notes of Faith September 2, 2023

How Jesus Saves

The Lost Father

Abdulfattah Jandali ran a Mediterranean restaurant in California. He was a Syrian immigrant, balding and intelligent, with fierce eyes and round, wire-rimmed glasses. After coming to America, Jandali earned a PhD in economics. He got a job as a professor at the University of Michigan. He began dating a woman named Joanne, and she became pregnant. But despite his brilliance, Jandali was a flawed and restless man. So with Joanne still pregnant, he abandoned both his family and his career. The baby boy in Joanne’s womb was given up for adoption.

Jandali later reunited with Joanne, they were married (briefly), and the couple had a daughter. But when the child was young, Jandali once again grew restless. He left and never returned. The baby girl grew up to be a famous novelist named Mona Simpson. And as an adult, she decided to seek out her long-lost father. What was he like? she wondered.

Why did he leave? Simpson hired a private investigator who tracked down Jandali, managing an eatery in California.

In a corner booth, Jandali told his daughter proudly of the places he had managed over the years — especially the Mediterranean one near San Jose. “That place was wonderful,” he remarked. “All of the successful technology people used to come there. Even Steve Jobs. He was a sweet guy and a big tipper!” Mona Simpson’s mouth fell open. What she never told her father was that Steve Jobs — the brilliant billionaire and founder of Apple Computers — was the baby Jandali had abandoned in the womb. And despite never knowing one another outside of those brief, oblivious encounters — the two men shared uncanny characteristics.1

Fathers shape us even in their absence. We inherit things.

Like a sharp mind, a set of piercing eyes, and maybe even a taste for round-rimmed wire glasses. There is a mystery in what gets passed down. But in the case of Jobs and Jandali, the similarities do not stop there. Eerily, the founder of Apple Computers would also abandon his own firstborn child, Lisa, in the womb, at the exact same age Jandali had been when he left. What should we make of such surprising recapitulations? My claim is not that every aspect of our fate is predetermined by our past or our genetics.

We can make choices — with God’s help — to break certain cycles. But we are often more tied to others than we think as modern, Western individuals. In other words, as Jandali demonstrates:

We are mysteriously bound up with our fallen forerunners.

An Apple with a Bite out of It

Steve Jobs’s famed logo was an apple with a bite missing. Yet there is another bitten fruit that figures prominently in Scripture. In Genesis 3, humans reject their calling to reflect God’s character in the garden they were called to “guard” (shamar; Genesis 2:15, author’s translation). This Hebrew word implies that though Eden was very good, it was not yet perfect. Hence the garden needed to be ordered and protected. That was Adam’s job.

Some scholars picture Eden like a beachhead of shalom (“peace”) carved out by God in a broader world that had already experienced a cosmic disruption. Why else would it need guarding? Why else would there be a talking Tempter who we now know as “that ancient serpent, who is the devil” (Revelation 20:2)? The first humans occupy a territory that is good but dangerous. And by falling for the serpent’s temptation, the head of humanity (Adam) is severed. Adam is cut off not just from the tree of life but from the future God desired for his people.2 Just as with Jandali, fallen fathers cast long shadows. Poisoned water flows downstream. The roots affect the branches. No one sins in a vacuum.

It didn’t have to be this way. Back in Genesis, humans could have done what they were commanded to do: guard the garden. After all, God gave them authority to “rule over” animals (Genesis 1:26). And here was one blaspheming the Creator (Genesis 3:4). Adam could have done precisely what young David did when he heard Goliath blaspheming Israel’s God. He took the fate of the people upon himself as their anointed head and soon-to-be king. What happened to David in that showdown with Goliath (in either failure or triumph) would carry over to the whole nation (1 Samuel 17:8–9). And in this case, as it was with Jesus, it was the Enemy’s head that was severed.

Jesus is the rightful head of an interconnected human family.

Recapping Fallen Adam

This brings me back to Jesus. We have seen how Jesus is connected to Adam as the true head of all humanity. But how can this be? Christ was born long after Adam. And Jesus had no children. Wouldn’t this make Him more like the elbow of the human race? How can Jesus be the true head of all humanity? It’s time to tackle more specifically the nature of our bound-togetherness.

Enter Irenaeus. Despite his strange-sounding name, Irenaeus was a Christian leader just after the time of the apostles (c. AD 180). Like Julian of Norwich, he was fascinated with the connection between Christ and Adam, and he saw this relationship as revealing something about how Jesus saves. Irenaeus noted that God made all humans in His image (Genesis 1:26). And despite sin, we retain that image even now. Since all persons have been stamped in God’s likeness, our bodies have intrinsic value regardless of race, gender, wealth, or shifting beauty standards.

But the image of God is not just something we have — like blue eyes or an intolerance to dairy. The image of God is also something we do.

Humans are called to “image” (or reflect) God to those around us.

It is a vocation and not just a possession. For these reasons, the image of God is one of the most important concepts in the Bible. Why is each human life precious beyond price? The image of God. Why is stewardship of the environment a sign of Christian maturity? The image of God. Why must racism, abortion, and sexual immorality be treated together as offenses against the way of Jesus? The image of God.

The image of God also explains how Jesus can represent all humans even though He is just one man.

It’s because even Adam was made in the image of God’s Son — Jesus. The New Testament speaks of Christ as the true and perfect Image of God (2 Corinthians 4:4; Colossians 1:15). Though we are flawed reflections of God’s character, Jesus is the perfect Image. As the second person of the Trinity, the Son of God preexisted Adam. Jesus is the eternal Son and the creative Word by which God made everything (John 1:1–3; John 1:14). To use the analogy of a copy machine (which sounds pretty sacred, right?), we might say Jesus is the original Image that is used as the pattern to create all subsequent images. Every human who has ever lived was patterned and printed in the image of the true human — Jesus Christ.

This matters for atonement. For Irenaeus, since even Adam was made in the image of Christ, that makes Jesus the true head of all humanity. This means that at the deepest root of our expanding family tree — deeper than your grandparents, your weird uncle, or your ancient ancestors — there is not a fallen father. At the deepest root there is an obedient and perfect Son.

Jesus is the image in which all people were created, and the head of His body, the church (Colossians 1:15). Consider this rough diagram, which took thousands of research dollars to create, and an entire team of artists and geneticists.

the human family

The drawing shows that Christ is the founding head of the entire human race, like the unseen headwaters of a long and winding river. Because while Jesus was born near the middle of the human story, even Adam was patterned on the image of Christ.3 For this reason, Paul states that just as Adam’s disobedience led to the many being made sinners, so also through Christ’s obedience “the many will be made righteous” (Romans 5:19).

Ultimately, Jesus isn’t just one disconnected human individual. Jesus is the rightful head of an interconnected human family.4

No matter what your past is like, this is good news. In the words of Nichole Nordeman, God’s love doesn’t “get hung up on the branches of family trees that bend and sometimes break under the weight of our painful histories. It’s too busy at the roots. Where the soil is soaked in mercy.”5 This is true because Jesus comes not just as one perfect individual in the middle of history, but as the new and true Adam who can empathize with our pain and suffering, while lifting us out of the dirty ditches where we’ve fallen.

Quotations cited from Walter Isaacson, Steve Jobs (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2011), 257.

In Genesis, God makes clear that Adam and Eve were not created immortal. It is the tree of life (and their ability to continue eating from it) that makes it a possibility for them to “live forever” (Gen. 3:22).

See Joshua M. McNall, The Mosaic of Atonement: An Integrated Approach to Christ’s Work (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Academic, 2019), 78–79.

Irenaeus, Demonstration of Apostolic Preaching, trans. Armitage Robinson (New York: MacMillan, 1920), 22.

Nichole Nordeman, Love Story: The Hand That Holds Us from the Garden to the Gate (Brentwood, TN: Worthy Publishing, 2012), 50.

Excerpted from How Jesus Saves by Joshua McNall, copyright Joshua M. McNall.

Phil 2:5-11

Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, 6 who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, 7 but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. 8 Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. 9 For this reason also, God highly exalted Him, and bestowed on Him the name which is above every name, 10 so that at the name of Jesus EVERY KNEE WILL BOW, of those who are in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and that every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Pastor Dale

Notes of Faith September 1, 2023

Notes of Faith September 1, 2023

Slip Away to A Quiet Place

Rest for Your Soul

by Wendy Blight

Wendy Blight knows what it's like to feel like peace has evaporated and nothing is "normal" anymore. In her new book Rest for Your Soul, she shares how to connect with God through three holy habits — solitude, silence, and prayer.

The words I’m sharing today come from the pages of my new book, Rest for Your Soul: A Bible Study on Solitude, Silence, and Prayer. I’ve titled today’s devotion, “Slip Away to A Quiet Place.” Our key verse comes from the book of Romans,

“For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through the endurance taught in the Scriptures and the encouragement they provide we might have hope. — Romans 15:4 NIV

During the worst of my anxiety, enclosed spaces felt like the walls were closing in on me. Groups and crowds brought on full blown panic attacks. My solution. To never leave my house. I missed work events, parties, showers, weddings and even a funeral for someone I loved.

Do you find yourself in a season of deep unsettledness?

I think Jesus may have experienced that same unsettledness as He walked with His friends into the Garden of Gethsemane. Jesus knew His assignment. The persecution, pain and suffering that lay ahead.

Friend, I don’t know about you, but when I see Jesus feeling my feelings, I want to learn from Him … watch what He does … pay attention to what He says.

Matthew 26 tells us Jesus left His friends and went deeper into the Garden to pray and receive strength, processing His agony as He surrendered His will to His Father’s. This gives us a beautiful picture of what it means to take a sacred pause with God. To slip away to a quiet place and wrestle through when it feels like God has forgotten us.

But I want you to know, feeling forgotten is true only according to your feelings. It’s not reality. If you remain in your lying feelings, you will continue to believe them until you make an intentional choice to step outside of your head and into God’s presence and His Word.

This is where the sacred pause of solitude comes in.

Solitude requires temporarily removing ourselves from people to be present with God.

It creates space for Him to speak Truth into the lies we’re believing. To loosen the grip dark thoughts have on us and replace them with God’s thoughts.

Solitude requires temporarily removing ourselves from people to be present with God.

Blessings upon blessings are found in alone time with God. Psalm 1 shares one of my favorites.

Psalm 1:1-3,

Blessed is the one … whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and who meditates on his law day and night. That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither - whatever they do prospers. — NIV

For me, that word “meditate” brings to mind the image of sitting quietly, pondering and reflecting upon what I’m studying. However, in Hebrew this word is “hagah.” It’s often translated ruminate, eat, or chew on something.

We find “hagah” again in Isaiah 31:4 which says,

For thus the Lord said to me, ‘As a lion or young lion growls over his prey...’ — ESV

Here “hagah” is translated “growl.”

I found that second image, devouring God’s word like a lion eats its prey, incredibly insightful and totally from mine!

I’m inviting you to “hagah” on our key verse today, Romans 15:4.

For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through the endurance taught in the Scriptures and the encouragement they provide we might have Hope.

In this verse, God explains the role He intends for His Word to play in your life.

God sent His Word for your instruction.

God sent His Word to provide steadfastness and encouragement.

God sent His Word to sustain your hope.

This verse gives us a new lens through which to view our circumstances … God’s lens that encourages us to press on … endure … be steadfast.

It also tells us that same Word will sustain our hope.

The Bible reveals story upon story of people just like you and me pressing through the hard seasons, enduring and finding encouragement and hope even when everything in them wanted to turn back, give up, or walk away.

Friend, never forget your sacred pauses with God in His Word gird your mind to live steadfastly, abide in hope, even in the midst of your unsettled soul.

Invitation for You: Commit to a daily time of solitude this week. Take one sacred pause with God each day. Here are a few verses to meditate on during your time with God. Hebrews 1:3 (God’s glory), Colossians 3:12-13 (loving and forgiving others), Psalm 4:8 (peace and rest).

Prayer for you:

Lord, please settle my friend’s unsettled soul. Help her to carve out time to sit with You and “hagah” on Your Word. Minister to her heart and her hurt as You did Jesus in the Garden. She’s waiting to receive the words of encouragement You have for her to quiet her heart and help her endure what she’s walking through. We trust You, Lord. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Written for Devotionals Daily by Wendy Blight, author of Rest for your Soul.

We can never spend too much time with God. His presence is invigorating, brings rest to our souls, and ultimately gives us glory for all eternity. Try it out. Spend time with Him today and again tomorrow. Build a habit that will bless you and give glory and honor to God.

Pastor Dale

Notes of Faith August 31, 2023

Notes of Faith August 31, 2023

Season of Grief, Journey of Faith

Understanding Your Grief

But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. — Isaiah 40:31

Grief is not an enemy or a sign of weakness. It is a sign of being human.

Grief is the cost of loving someone.

Since grief comes to everyone, why do some people seem to work through it better than others?

“Some people think that going through the losses or crises of life are the exceptional times,” says Dr. H. Norman Wright.

“I see it differently. I see the times of calm as the exceptions. Life really is going through one loss after another, one crisis after another. Instead of avoiding talking about these times, let’s do our homework. When you know what to expect, you’re not thrown by them as much, and you’re going to be better able to recover.”

Lord God, teach me to embrace my grief and not fight it, so that I may experience the true healing that comes from You.

Grief Is a Unique Experience

O LORD, You have examined my heart and know everything about me… Thank You for making me so wonderfully complex… You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in Your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed. — Psalm 139:1, Psalm 139:14, Psalm 139:16 (NLT)

You may feel it is useless to talk about your grief because no one truly understands what you are going through.

“You sometimes feel after an experience like this that you’re talking a foreign language,” says Dora, whose daughter died. “You feel like there’s no way anybody can know what you’re feeling. There is absolutely no way anyone can know the depth of your pain. So you feel like it’s futile to talk about it because words can’t express the pain.”

Although countless people have experienced grief before you, each person’s response to grief is different. Your path of grief will be uniquely your own.

Be encouraged that regardless of how your grief appears to you or others, it has a precious uniqueness to the One who created you.

God, who knows intimately your personality, your relationships, and the experiences of your life, knows your grief and isn’t shocked or surprised by your responses.

Father, thank You that my way of grieving is distinctly my own, reflective of all You have sovereignly created me to be and experience.

Grief Runs Deep: Where Is the Hope?

Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD. — Psalm 31:24

Dr. Joseph Stowell says, “Even though your heart is breaking and tears are clouding your eyes and staining your cheeks, God does give us something worth trusting in tough times. And that’s Him, and Him alone.”

When your heart is breaking, you can place your hope and trust in the Lord.

Anne Graham Lotz defines hope: “Biblical hope is absolute confidence in something you haven’t seen or received yet, but you’re absolutely confident that whatever God has said is going to come to pass.”

She also declares that “Jesus is your hope for the future. One day Jesus Christ will come back, and He will set all of the wrong right. Good will triumph over the bad. Love will triumph over hate. Righteousness will triumph over evil. He’s going to make it all right, and you can have absolute confidence that that’s going to take place. That’s your hope.”

Sovereign God, I choose hope. I choose faith. I choose life. Give me an unshakable faith in You.

When your heart is breaking, you can place your hope and trust in the Lord.

Grief Lasts Longer Than Expected

Grief ’s unexpected turns will throw you again and again. You may feel that for every step forward, you take at least one step back.

The grieving process generally takes longer than you ever imagined. Please don’t rush this process. Remember, what you are feeling is not only normal, it is necessary.

“It’s been seven years, and I’m still going through it,” says Dr. Larry Crabb, whose brother died in a plane crash. “I don’t know if it’s a very holy thing to admit, but when someone says, ‘Well, it’s been a week, a month, a year — Larry, for you it’s been seven years. Get a grip. Where’s your faith in Christ, for goodness’ sake?’ I get really angry.

“Knowing the Lord and His comfort does not take away the ache; instead, it supports you in the middle of the ache. Until I get home to heaven, there’s going to be an ache that won’t quit. The grieving process for me is not so much a matter of getting rid of the pain, but not being controlled by the pain.”

We read in the Psalms that David grew weary with the process of grief and cried out to the Lord. Then he left the timing in God’s hands.

Be merciful to me, LORD, for I am faint; O LORD, heal me, for my bones are in agony. My soul is in anguish. How long, O LORD, how long? Turn, O LORD, and deliver me; save me because of Your unfailing love. — Psalm 6:2-4

I am weary with my sighing; Every night I make my bed swim, I dissolve my couch with my tears. My eye has wasted away with grief. — Psalm 6:6-7

Heavenly God, I cannot even begin to put my grief in a time frame. Thank You that I don’t have to. Comfort me and support me as I lean on You.

He Will Carry You

Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer. From the ends of the earth I call to You, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the foe. — Psalm 61:1-3

The Lord will carry you if you ask Him. When you are feeling so weak you cannot take another step, ask Him to lift you high into His loving arms. Then rest in Him with an open and listening heart. This does not mean your problems will disappear, but it does mean you will have Someone to share them with.

“If you are someone who does not know Jesus Christ as your Savior and you have just been widowed or bereaved, you have a tremendous burden,” says Elisabeth Elliot. “You are tired, and it is too big a burden to carry. The Lord says, ‘Come to Me, you who are tired and over-burdened, and I will give you rest.’”

To receive peace and rest in Christ, the instructions are clear. Jesus says, “Come to Me.” You must first approach Him and then talk to Him and quietly listen.

Lord, I come to You. My heart is worn out, and I need You. Take my heavy burden today. Amen.

Excerpted from Through a Season of Grief by Bill Dunn and Kathy Leonard, copyright Thomas Nelson.

If you or someone you know is grieving please consider New Hope Grief Support Community of Long Beach as a resource for help and encouragement.

Pastor Dale