Peter begins his epistle thanking and praising God for what he has done for us in the past, in the death and resurrection of Christ. Staring from what Christ has done in the past, Peter then looks ahead to the final day in which we will receive our eternal inheritance, an inheritance that is kept and preserved for us by God.

As Peter looks ahead to the subsequent glories of the cross he does not only look to the day of our eternal inheritance, he also addresses how the glories of the cross impact our current daily life. While the past work of the cross is supreme, and our future is wondrously glorious, so also our current life is filled with the glories of the cross.

But Peter is clear that in order to see and enjoy the subsequent glories of the cross in our daily lives we need to have faith. It is by the filter of faith that we can perceive the circumstances of our daily lives as glorious and hopeful. Whether we are experiencing an exciting day, a mundane day, or especially a painful day, we are able, by faith, to appreciate our circumstances as subsequent glories of the cross. Faith sees God’s hand and his Christ exalting purposes in every circumstance of our lives–most notably in trials. Without faith we don’t make these connections. No wonder Peter calls our faith “…more precious than gold.” Each time we make this connection–expressly in the midst of trials–and rejoice in God’s doing, we obtain a measure of the goal of our faith. We see God’s hand as he brings to completion the salvation of our souls.

We long for the final and ultimate entry into our eternal inheritance, but we also rejoice in every victory of our faith, every trial we endure, every sin put to death. This is God’s work: “…by his power we are guarded through faith…” (1 Peter 1:5). And so just as God himself has accomplished all that we need to be saved on the cross of the past, he is also currently working out the subsequent glories of the cross, by upholding our faith day-by-day, delivering to us measure-by-measure the goal of our faith, until the final day.

Thank you Jesus that your death was so great that it continues to afford to me subsequent glories to this very day. Your power and your life uphold my faith and so I have great hope. Help me to walk in the faith that you have given to me, rejoicing in you, rejoicing in the gospel of the cross and longing for the glories yet to come.

There are, on God’s palette, many colors and shades from which He chooses when painting the canvas upon which His glory is revealed. They are not all bright rainbow colors. Among His supplies are earthy browns, dark umber hues, grays, and blacks that, when painted by the master, fall perfectly into His bright design.

The story of the death of Lazarus was painted in these darker tones. Yet the entire canvas was sovereignly drawn for the glory of the Son of God. Jesus said that He was glad for this opportunity and acted in His love when He filled His brush full of deep blues and cold black for shadows, mourning and grief.

Lazarus was sick. I’m sick right now with the cold and it’s not pleasant. But to be sick enough that your life is threatened is far more excruciating than having a common cold. Yet, Jesus’ delay allowed this sickness to get really bad, so bad that Lazarus did die from it.

Lazarus’s sister, Martha, who was already prone to worry, must have been an emotional wreck as she watched her brother die. She must have been frantic, hoping that the one they sent to find Jesus would find Him in time, hoping that Jesus would arrive to heal before it was too late.

Between verse three and verse four, there is a span of time from when the sisters sent for Jesus, and when the one they sent found Him to deliver the message. It must have been at least a day since it was at twenty or thirty miles from Bethany to where Jesus was. The messenger must have also been under great stress–traveling as quickly as possible with life and death on the line.

And I wonder what the disciples thought when they heard that Lazarus was sick and that Mary and Martha wanted Jesus to come? I glean from Thomas’s remarks that the disciples thought that a return to Jerusalem would result in the stoning of Jesus–and that they would be targeted too. Jesus’ knew exactly what He was doing in delay. He knew what was in store for the glory of God in the Son. But I wonder if the disciples, who didn’t know Jesus’ plan, felt an uncomfortable mix of sorrow for Lazarus’s suffering but also relief because it seemed like Jesus wasn’t going to go back to Jerusalem?

But He did go back. The long walk to Bethany probably felt like a death march to the disciples.

This is a dreary episode for everyone involved. It was full of pain, anxiety, sorrow, mourning, stress, fear and disappointment. What odd shades to choose when painting a glorious revelation of Jesus–the Resurrection and the Life.

But as any good painter knows, to dramatically display the brightest and most beautiful colors often requires the use of contrasting dark and muted tones. Some of the most glorious uses of color are found on the darkest canvases. And Jesus is the Master of masters when it comes to applying paint to canvas. Every shade is perfect and every stroke in place.

Speaking of paintings, there is an elusive and subjective element to art appreciation. Some people look at a painting and delight in it, while others pass by unaffected. There are many internal impulses that come into play when beholding a work of art. What these impulses are is hard to define.

Similarly, people respond differently to the displays of God’s glory. Some rejoice, fall down and worship. Some pick up stones. The inner condition that produces one response as opposed to the other is not hard to define at all. The element necessary to appreciate the glorious canvases of the Master is faith.

The eyes of faith look upon the story of Lazarus–a man dying from severe sickness, desperate sisters disappointed in their Lord, futile rescue plans thwarted by apparent indifference, and friends that are too fearful to help, and can see God’s skillful hand at work. Ultimately, Jesus does bring light and joy into the frame, but before He fills His brush with pure white and bright yellow, before He pulls it all together in a glorious work, He exhorts His disciples and He exhorts Martha—to have faith. “Did I not say to you, if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”

On the finished canvas the glory of it all is plain. Sorrow gives way to rejoicing, mourning gives way to gladness–and we believe. It is fitting that we should rejoice when the final stroke of a masterpiece is applied and a glorious painting is revealed. But it seems to me that Jesus is most glorified when, by faith, trusting in His skill, we accept, in anticipation of the final revelation, that every dark spot is placed in perfect proportion to the glory of God–even before the painting is done. Is this not how Jesus was exhorting His disciples, two days before they saw the power of God? “…I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, so that you may believe…”

Lord, grant me faith that rests in your perfect skill. Grant me faith to overcome pain, stress, sorrow, and fear when they come upon me. When the inexplicable happens, when disappointment arrives, when my plans are frustrated or my intentions foiled–then, O Lord, let me trust in your hand and watch the Master at work, knowing that when all is complete there will be resurrection and life. Amen.

Eric Holter
Chapel Hill, NC

On the first Easter morning the apostles were cognitively non-Christians. When Mary, Joanna and Mary the mother of James reported that angles had told them that Jesus had risen, they considered the words as nonsense. It’s remarkable to me that the apostles would be so dull. After all, these men had been with Jesus, they heard everything He said, they saw every miracle He performed, and they had even been told in advance about His betrayal, crucifixion, and resurrection. In addition to their direct experiences with Jesus, having heard all His words and seen all His works, they also had three reliable, trustworthy eye witnesses testifying to the gospel they heard from the mouths of angels. All this was still not enough. The first time they heard the gospel message they thought it was nonsense.

How is it that their hearts could be so hard and that their eyes could be so blind? Of all the men throughout history, these men should have been ready to receive and believe the gospel–but they didn’t.

Now my own past denials of the gospel I can understand. I had far better excuses not to believe. When I first heard the gospel I was entirely unfamiliar with the words and deeds of Jesus. I had no first hand, personally verifiable eyewitness testimony. I live 2000 years after it all took place. And I heard the gospel with a modern, rationalistic, anti-supernatural worldview in which such an account sounds like a fairy tale. But Peter and the others? They should have been ready to believe.

It just goes to show that no amount of cultural background, knowledge of facts, or super natural experiences is adequate enough to produce faith. Genuine faith, the ability to respond to the gospel, the ability to believe in a resurrected Jesus is the gift of God. Establishing the apostle’s faith required the appearance of Jesus Himself. It even required Jesus’ extra efforts to prove He had actually risen. And it ultimately required the gift of the Holy Spirit. It was nothing less than super natural power that produced the apostle’s faith in the gospel.

Now if the apostles required a super natural work of God to believe, I certainly would not have believed without the same miraculous work in my soul. Therefore, I should be very thankful for the patient working of God in my case, and I should be patient in my personal evangelism. If the apostles thought the gospel was nonsense it is understandable that those like me who hear the message today might think so too. But the same supernatural power that reveals Christ to the eyes of the heart and imparts saving faith is just as available today as it was then. It still has the same eye opening, heart softening effects that turn the foolishness of the message into the awesome, majestic glory of God in the cross of Christ.

Thank you, Jesus, for being patient with my stubborn unbelieving heart. Thank you for not taking ultimate offense at my estimation of the gospel as nonsense, but rather drew near and opened my eyes. Let me testify to your gospel like Mary and Joanna and Mary did, even when it is received as foolishness and nonsense. Amen.

In the very moment, being famished, and the smell of Jacob’s tasty red stew filling the room, a very small thing, like a bowl of porridge, seemed more desirable to Esau than a much bigger thing, his birthright. Thus Esau despised his birthright, a big thing far off, for stew – a small thing immediately available. Unbelief is like that, it uses time and distance to distort the true value of precious things. To despise means to think little of, to be dismissive toward, and to disregard. Esau thought little of, and was dismissive of, the true value of his birthright – when it seemed far off. Esau was an earthy man, a hunter, a man of the fields – he lived in the moment and gave little thought to tomorrow. Better, he thought, was good stew right now when hungry, than a birthright which could only be enjoyed in the distant future.

Thus Esau became the model of unbelief. Unbelief lives only for what can be had in the moment of desire – even though it may be small and temporary. Faith, on the other hand, has the capacity to see something far off, reckon its true value, and decline an immediately accessible gain for a greater and eternal blessing. Esau, in his unbelief, was nearsighted so that he could not see the true value of a far off birthright. He did not have the capacity to wait for something better than the stew, when the stew was immediately before him. Faith beholds the promises of God and believes them, setting its hope upon them. It forsakes some pleasures, though they may be more immediately enjoyed, for the sake of greater ones which must be waited for, but will be far better – and enjoyed forever.

If Esau could only have endured his hunger for just a few hours he may not have had to lose his birthright. But he couldn’t. His desire for stew now blinded him to the immense value of his birthright. Soon, having satisfied his immediate hunger, he would be hungry again. His birthright was gone forever. But what did he care? He was no longer hungry, and the loss of his birthright wouldn’t change anything for him the next day, or the next, or perhaps for years beyond that. He did not miss his birthright because its blessings could not be enjoyed until the day of inheritance – and who knew how many years that would be? And so he went on after eating his stew no different than he had been before it – he got himself some good soup right when he wanted it – at no immediate cost whatsoever.

But when the day came, the day of receiving his father’s blessing, the loss was traumatic. Where was the stew now? Could he even remember how good it tasted? No he couldn’t, not with salty tears running down his face from the loss of his father’s blessing. He lost a terribly valuable thing when he bought that stew. And on the day of loss he cried out with an exceedingly great and bitter cry.

Lord, please increase my faith so that your great and eternal promises are reckoned more precious and desirable than the immediate trinkets available to me each day. Lord even good things, if they should be sought for their own sake – will be rob me of future blessing. Let me look to Christ as so much richer, so much better than anything else, that I’d give away all earthly treasure to gain more interest in Him. Save me from the misery of unbelief. Deliver me through Christ. Amen.

Isaac’s life was not easy. Growing up, he was the son of a sojourner and a constant stranger. I don’t think he liked the sojourner’s life because the Bible records that when he grew up he settled himself in Beer-lahai-roi. But that wasn’t to be – a famine drove him away from his home. Famines are massively stressful events. When we read about this famine, it unfolds over just one verse, but for Issac it represented weeks, perhaps months of dwindling supplies and dwindling hope for rain and harvest. As circumstances grew more and more bleak, he was forced to uproot his household. Such a circumstance is not easy to endure.

When Isaac came to the place where he could survive the famine he had such fear of the people that he lied about his wife, as his father had, and called her his sister. This ultimately gets him in big trouble with the King – who in the end showed Issac mercy.

Isaac prospered so much while in this foreign land that the people got jealous and begin sabotaging his property by filling his wells with earth. Thus begins a long string of contentions over Isaac’s wells. Interestingly Isaac doesn’t fight for his wells, instead he just keeps moving on from one place to another, digging new wells each time. Again, these events unfold for us in just a few verses – but digging a well is no small effort. And with each new well he dug, the people would contend with him over it or stop it up with earth. Finally, Isaac caught a break and dugs a well that nobody contended for and he could finally settle in Rehoboth.

Just as he is beginning to enjoy his wealth in peace, King Abimelech showed up. I imagine Isaac, upon seeing the King and his entourage approaching, must have thought, “Here we go again – they’re going to fight me over this well too. Might as well pull up the tent pegs now and look for another place to dwell and dig yet another well!” Of course, as it turns out, the King only wanted to acknowledge the Lord’s blessing on Isaac and make oaths of peace with him. But Isaac’s own words of greeting betray the self-pity in his heart. “Why have you come to me since you hate me, and have sent me away from you?” I can just hear the self-pity theme song playing in the background…

“Nobody likes me,
Everybody hates me,
Might as well go eat worms.”

Isaac was greatly blessed, and the King was on his way to bless him even more, but Isaac’s self-pity only saw the downside. Self-pity is like that. It blinds us to all the abundant blessings given to us every day, narrowing our vision so we only see the struggles and difficulties of life. And there are plenty of difficulties for self-pity to lay hold of. Isaac’s trials were hard and real and discouraging. Yet we can see – since we get to read the breadth of his life story over a few short chapters – that his overarching experience was one of tremendous blessing.

Contending for faith in the face of discouragement is an ongoing battle for us all. But self-pity is no ally in this fight. It is a liar and it keeps us from seeing the sovereign hand of God moving all circumstances for us for our good. Self-pity is a thief and it robs our view of the glorious purposes and plans of God in every encounter we face throughout our lives. If we can kill self-pity we will have a more level battlefield in our war of faith against unbelief. Every stopped up well becomes an opportunity to let God lead us to the place of a greater blessing, not an occasion to grumble and complain and hum the self-pity tune.

Save me O God from murmuring or grumbling thereby giving self-pity the upper hand. Keep my eyes on Jesus that I may see and acknowledge your abundant blessing and overwhelming grace. You are so good, and even the trials you allow lead to me into your greater blessing. Praise you Lord. Amen.

A popular application question from the story of Abraham offering Isaac is whether or not you would have enough faith to offer your child, if God told you to. But I think this question is somewhat flawed. Because Abraham’s test was not merely the hardest test God could think of to determine how much faith Abraham had. It did not test the quantity of Abraham’s faith, but rather the basis of it. The task wasn’t designed to see whether or not Abraham would do something outrageous simply because God told him to. The task corresponded with God’s specific promises regarding Isaac and his decendants.

From Genesis chapter 12 up to this test found in chapter 22 God makes multiple promises to Abraham regarding his descendants. Abraham’s very name, which God gave him, means “father of many nations.” God confirmed his promises by covenant and He narrowed the channel through which He would fulfill His promise to only one son, Issac, the child of promise, a child by miracle born to Sarah in her old age. This promise, through which the whole world would be blessed, was not a vague promise open to interpretation but a repeated, refined, and specific promise to be fulfilled only through Isaac. The first version of God’s promise was less specific – and after years of waiting, Abram and Sarai came up with a plan to help God by providing themselves with a child through Hagar. But God does not need our help to fulfill His promises. and this resulting child of the flesh had was to have no part in fulfilling the promise. God has His own ways to fulfill His promises, and He accomplishes them by His own hand.

So when God told Abraham to offer Issac, the very one, the only one, through whom the promise would be filled, what was being tested was not so much Abraham’s willingness to do something outrageous, but rather Abraham’s faith in the truthfulness of God’s promises. It was God’s faithfulness to uphold His own promises by His own means – including raising the dead if needs be – that were in view in Abraham’s test.

So as Abraham walked on with Issac toward the mountain, he walked on in faith that God’s promises would be fulfilled, through Issac, even as he built an alter to sacrifice him. When Issac asked about the lamb for the burnt offering, Abraham responded “God will provide for Himself the lamb.” God’s promises fortified his faith – he knew God would uphold His promises, and this is what he clung to in faith. His faith anticipated a provision, though he did not know what, or how God would provide it. And during that perplexing period between promise and provision, Abraham walked on in faith.

And God did provide. He provided a ram stuck in a thicket in place of Isaac, and much more – He provided Christ, the Lamb of God in our place as a substitute sacrifice for our sins.

Abraham did not know how God would provide, but his faith anticipated it as it rested on God’s faithfulness to His own promises. But for us, we know how God’s promises are fulfilled, for they have been entirely established and fulfilled in the cross. The blessings promised to Abraham through Isaac and his descendants are fulfilled in Christ. Abraham’s faith rested on promises yet to be provided. Our faith rests on God’s promises completely fulfilled.

Yet, though Christ has been sacrificed and has fulfilled every promise, the final delivery, the consummation of kingdom in the eternal city of God, has been delayed. And so we like Abraham. must walk on, as Abraham did, in faith. Abraham walked on between promise and anticipated provision – anticipated yet mysterious and veiled. We walk on in faith between promise fulfilled and provision made, but delivery delayed. We have the best foundation of all – Christ and Him crucified – Christ and Him risen from the dead – mediator of our new covenant with God, through which all His promises are given to us in abundance. The mystery has been revealed, the provision provided therefore our faith is based on a much better promises because for us the promises have been filled already in Christ – yet we too must wait patiently in hope until we inherit the consummation of His promises.

Perhaps a better application question in response to the story of Abraham would be, “What outrageous acts of faith may we pursue as we bank on the firmness of all God’s promises fulfilled to us in Christ?” For our faith, like Abraham’s, is not mustered from within, but rather rests on the firm foundation of the promises of God in Christ. If Abraham believed God’s promises – yet to be provided – how much more should I trust Christ and bank on the promises made to me in Him? For He has already been sacrificed and His promises are already established. They are waiting for me – kept until the day.

O Lord, as I walk on, during my days of faith, let me set my hope fully on the grace to be given in Christ. Enable me to act with boldness in proportion to the certainty I have that all your promises are complete and finished in Christ, in the name of Jesus – my strong anchor – Amen.

It is a well-observed spiritual truth that suffering is among the chief means for deepening communion with God. The fellowship of sharing in Jesus’ sufferings brings joy. Faith grows up in the broken soil of our pains. Hope, refined by trials, increases our longing for heaven. When I’m under the shadow of suffering, God’s promises renew my strength. Such times cause me to anticipate the weight of glory promised for my eternal future.

The fullness of God’s grace and mercy will only be granted in eternity. Yet His comforts are often bestowed, in smaller measure, here on earth. The Lord is tender and kind. He gives and takes away. He brings affliction but never too much, and restores the soul like with Job after his testing.

I will add my minor testimony to the chorus of many saints, to God’s faithfulness through trial. I have suffered a little and I have been graciously restored. I agree with all the others that suffering is indeed good in that it draws my soul closer to God. God’s glory has been revealed to me more clearly through suffering than it has in times of comfort.

Here is a dilemma. If the greatest pleasure God can give me is the gracious gift of Himself, if He is the most desirable object of my affection, and He gives Himself to me most fully in times of suffering, how am I to measure God’s many gifts of comfort? If communion with God is my greatest earthly experience and the greatest of these experiences come through suffering, what do I make of my comforts? There is such tension here, because while suffering I eagerly long for comfort. And when comfort and relief arrive I indeed rejoice. But if, as a result of such rest, my communion with God diminishes – even slightly – how do I appropriately delight in God’s comfort – as surely I ought to – if in comfort my fellowship with God is calmer?

Paul writes in Philippians 4:12 “… I also know how to live in the prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need.” I believe his special insight was not just related to living in suffering, but had as much to do with how to live in prosperity. I know that I need grace and mercy to survive times of suffering. But I also know that I desperately need grace and mercy to survive prosperity and comfort.

I have not counted, but I bet there are more warnings in the Word to those who have riches and comfort than there are to those who are in need. Being needy can be a wonderful advantage for building strong faith and rich communion with God. Comfort can be a deadly, soul-lulling disease, resulting in total loss. Neither state is inherently so. Neediness can cause people to covet and steal. Riches can enable generosity for the relief to many, to the glory of God. But I would guess that with regard to communion with God, the path of suffering is smoother than the road of riches.

Whatever the road, God’s grace can keep my fellowship with him full. However, learning the secrets of prosperity may be harder than learning the secrets of suffering. That’s because suffering, in faith, reflexively pushes my soul toward God. In the same way that I instinctively draw my hand away from a hot flame, my soul, in faith, draws to God in the heat of adversity. But when there is neither extreme heat nor extreme cold, but perfect warmth my soul relaxes and rests in its comfort. It is at these times I am most likely to drift, to wander, to meander. Drawing close to God is not as reflexive without suffering. But it is not impossible. I need to learn the secrets of communion with God in times of comfort and prosperity.

I have not learned this secret yet. I have only recently received mercy and restored comfort from the Lord after a season of affliction. I’m still getting used to my new comfortable clothes. But I think one secret for preserving communion with God can be found in James 5:13 – that is, singing. If I have received cheerful comfort from the Lord I am deeply obliged to sing praises. The more comfort – the more singing. Many psalms beautifully weave cries of longing for God during distress with songs of delight for the oil of gladness. One lesson in the school of godly comfort is singing. I need to sing to the measure of my blessing. If I am not singing, inside and out, I should beware of my comforts. If I sing praises, I will honor my God – the God of all comfort.

Lord cause my heart to sing, my mouth to declare your praises. Oh, that I might honor you and preserve my faith in times of blessing as well as in times of need. Amen.

This is the second time this centurion has captured my attention. When I encountered him during my meditations in Matthew chapter eight I wrote a devotional called “A Centurion Came to Him, Entreating Him.” What originally captured my attention was Jesus’s estimation of this man’s faith – I wanted to squeeze out as many insights into what this great faith was like, so that my own faith might grow too. This time I encountered him in Luke chapter seven. Here I’ve been impressed with the kind of life that nurtured such great faith. If a soul is like soil, which, if it’s good, bears fruit according to the seed sown in it, then I want to examine the composition of this centurion’s soil. It must been some good soil for Jesus to marvel its fruit!

I see some clues as to the kind of man this must have been. His character and humility are evident. First, he was the kind of man that highly regarded his servant. I would imagine that the typical Roman centurion was not cut from the most compassionate cloth. He ordered solders all the time, maybe sometimes he even ordered them to their deaths. Yet this slave was dear to him. He liked him, and hated to see him sick, he wanted to help.

When he heard about Jesus he sent the Jewish elders to ask for Jesus’s help. Now this is remarkable to me – the Jewish elders were inclined to help him! Here was a Roman centurion, part of an occupying force, a gentile no less, who had gained the respect and commendation of Jewish elders. The elders praised the centurion’s love for the nation of Israel and they pointed out how he built their synagogue for them. There aren’t any more details offered about his relationship to the local Jews, but there must have been a lot of engagement on his part to win over such respect, from those who would otherwise be adversarial. He was a man of authority, yet he must have had great humility. He seemed to understand and respect Jewish traditions, so much so that he did not want Jesus to come in to his home. He acknowledges that Israel is God’s chosen people and that, though he was a man-in-charge, he was nevertheless a gentile, and so he gladly submitted to Jewish customs and law. He even built a gathering house for the people, even though he was not one of them.

It seems to me that the centurion exercised authority in a God fearing and humble way. His great faith is displayed in how he recognized Jesus’s total authority and His ability to simply speak a word, in order to heal his servant. He is confident in Jesus’s effective authority because he himself has effective authority over those who are under his charge. I get the feeling that his servants and his troops honored this centurion and submitted to his authority, not just because of his position, but because of his kind, humble and generous character. His first statement regarding authority is that he himself was a man under authority. He viewed his submission to his superiors in the Roman army as his first responsibility with respect to authority. After that he considered his own authority which had been granted to him, and how to put it to proper use.

This was a righteous man. He is commended by the Lord himself and pointed out as having faith greater than any he had found in Israel. This event, as recorded in Matthew and Luke, points out a pinnacle expression of faith, but I don’t think it was a spontaneous or momentary expression. This man’s life was a soil bed of righteousness, honor, humility, kindness, and good works. And when the moment of faith arose, through an opportunity to call on Jesus for help, faith bore fruit and manifest itself in a way that brought great glory and honor to the Lord.

Jesus, make my life good soil. Water and tend my garden so that faith might be nurtured and grow strong like this centurion’s did. Help me to give attention to those daily activities and opportunities to emulate his behavior. Make me tender hearted, compassionate, loving, kind, humble, respectful, submissive, confident, and God fearing. Let these qualities fertilize the ground and soften it. Let faith grow and in your mercy and by your grace let it be evident in my life that Jesus has all authority and that I have confidence in Him. To the praise of your glory, O Lord, Amen.

For three agonizing days Joseph and Mary searched for their precious Son. There have been a few times and places where I have lost track of one of my children. Those few anxious minutes felt like hours as the sickening feeling of anxiety welled up in my gut. How much more painful to lose track of a child for three days? Life need not deliver such extreme forms of distress in order to provoke my anxiety; its small doses produce dread and anxiety easily enough. My inner turmoil is a reflexive consequence of such circumstances.

Jesus taught, however, that I should not be anxious in view of the fact that my heavenly Father is sovereign – for not even a single bird falls to the ground apart from Him. All circumstances, including ones that cause me much anxiety are within His sovereign control – and He loves me and cares for me. Nevertheless, anxious circumstances invariably produce my anxious feelings.

God’s great power upholds His vast promises, and trusting in Him is the antidote to all my anxieties. While anxiety may be reflexive, it is also deadly, for it lives next door to unbelief – and faith in God is the cure for both. God’s strong promises will mitigate my worst fears.

It’s encouraging to me that even Joseph and Mary felt deep anxiety while looking for Jesus. After all, they had strong faith in the same sovereign God. Not only so, but they had specific promises concerning Jesus which should have upheld their faith in God. If I lose track of a child I have no specific promise other than God’s unconditional promise of goodness with respect to all circumstances. But Job lost all his children, and God was behind those terrible circumstances for good too. Faith in God kills anxiety, even in the face of the worst circumstance. So why didn’t God’s promises through Gabriel’s proclamation, or Simeon’s prophetic blessing, or Anna’s testimony, prevent their anxiety?

I’m sure God’s promises did strengthen Joseph and Mary over these three terrible days. They probably reminded themselves of these specific words over and over as they fought back thoughts of tragedy, shame, anger, and frustration. The point that captures my attention is that however successfully it they fought this fight of faith against fear, they still felt the affects of anxiety.

So then what is the difference between feeling anxiety and being anxious through unbelief? I think the difference is in what I do when I’m anxious, and the foundation for what I do with it. Anxious circumstances most certainly will arise, and gut wrenching turmoil shall accompany them. The tests of anxiety are eternal, faith-revealing occurrences that both humble me through my shameful failures, and bless me through Christ glorifying grace which sustains my faith.

What means might I use to avoid the shameful reproach of unbelief and uphold my faith in God’s promises during anxious trials?

1. O my soul, do not be arrogant, denying the presence of anxiety when it manifests itself in inner turmoil and troubled thoughts. You are no more immune to the affects of anxiety than a child is to the affects of tickling. The simple pressing of the right buttons will produce anxiety. Don’t add the sins of pride and self-reliance to the sins of unbelief.

2. O my soul, don’t rail against the circumstances that bring about your anxiety. Anxiety comes from within, not from without. God is in control of all circumstances – when such circumstances result in your anxious thoughts God is not at fault – you are. Don’t try to cure anxiety by fighting against the circumstances – especially when those circumstances delivered through the words or actions of other people! Such fighting might bend the circumstances, somewhat, to make more comfortable provisions for your flesh, but the poison of anxiety will remain.

3. O my soul, do cast all your anxiety on the Lord for He cares for you. God’s strength is glorified in His anxiety bearing capacity. Even if you could bear an anxiety yourself – which you can’t – your strength would then be exalted, not God’s. Don’t cast anxiety on the Lord only after you come to the end of your rope, as if you were almost able to bear it but needed a little boost. No, cast any and every anxiety on the Lord so that His faithfulness and His strength will be exalted through your weakness.

4. O my soul, by prayer and a petition make your needs known to the Lord. And be thankful – even for the desperate circumstances that have cast you upon the Lord for help. In such a way faith will have its work on anxiety, transforming it into the servant of your faith as it drives you desperately to the Lord, “When my anxious thoughts multiply within me, Your consolations delight my soul,” Psalm 94: 19.

5. O my soul, lift your eyes up unto the hills from where your help comes. Why else would your sovereign, caring, loving Lord bring the sufferings of anxiety your way – but to cause you to rejoice and delight in His wonderful deliverance?

According to Hebrews chapter 11, faith has two primary characteristics. One, it believes that God exists and that He makes all the things that exist out of nothing. Secondly, faith believes that God is a personal, covenant-making, promise-keeping God who rewards those that earnestly seek Him. This is the character of genuine faith and it is through faith alone that God saves, justifies and imputes the righteousness of Christ to undeserving sinners like me. And God determined to grant salvation through faith for a reason, which is that it might be – in accordance with grace.

When something is given in accordance with grace, it is given freely, without compulsion, without reference to something that is due. In accordance with grace is contrasted with reckoning something due as a deserved wage. God has granted righteousness only in accordance with grace, not as the result of works, in order to remove all boasting from the lips of man.

I am saved therefore by grace, through the mechanism of faith, which looks to God, believing in Him, banking on Him and hoping in Him for eternal reward.

Romans 4:17 reminds me of the first aspect of faith when it says that God “…calls into being that which does not exist.” It is extremely reassuring to my soul that my salvation is in accordance with grace, delivered through faith which looks to God to create something out of nothing. For I know that God requires faith as the basis for my salvation, yet I also know that faith simply has no existence in me, apart from God creating it out of nothing – giving this dead man life.

The Bible describes faith, faithfulness, and the fruit of faith in Christ. It uses rich language full of experiential words and phrases like joy inexpressible and full of glory, peace that surpasses all comprehension, rejoicing greatly, glory and exulting, gladness and confidence, and love that surpasses knowledge. None of these qualities are found in my heart apart from God creating them out of nothing by His grace.

If I was required to generate this kind of genuine faith on my own, I would be left for dead. But God, who gives life to the dead, and calls into being that which does not exist, calls faith into being in my heart as a precious and undeserved gift.

Now I can have hope against hope that though I detect weakness, deadness, and weariness in my body, yet God will implant, nurture and bring to life faith which can lay hold of God’s promises and experience the genuine fruit of faith to the glory of God and the delight of my own soul.

Lord Jesus, thank you for speaking life into my dead and dark soul and for calling forth the life of faith out from the nothingness of my heart. Now I hope against hope in your promise to complete that which you started. Let me taste the fruit of faith today, and let me not waver in unbelief, but rather grow strong, giving glory to you, fully assured that what you have promised, you will perform. Faithful God, I praise your name. Amen.