I try to maintain twin objectives in my day-to-day spiritual life. They run parallel to each other, like train tracks. If one or the other is lacking, bent, or damaged, my spiritual life tends to derail. One track is the daily mortification of sin, and the other is actively pursuing the glory of God in Christ. Seeing and knowing God is the positive and ultimate goal, but killing sin is the necessary and often more tangible exercise I engage in. Killing sin does not equal seeing God, nor does success in battle automatically result in a view of the glory of God. But, failure to mortify sin is certainly an effective preventor of seeing and delighting in God’s glory.

Killing sin sometimes means embracing self denial or ceasing to engage in some sinful activity or bad habit. But the deeper and more constant effort of sin killing engages my thoughts, motives and emotions. This kind of mortification is invisible. It happens in my head and heart.

Similarly, beholding the glory of God is also an invisible transaction–pillars of fire and parting of waters are not a part of the glory I behold. Rather, spiritual light, the radiance of God, is apprehended in my heart.

It’s tricky to maintain these two important tracks upon which my life rolls toward its ultimate heavenly calling–especially since their condition is invisible and my ability to evaluate their state of repair is often veiled. Yet daily mortification and unceasing orientation Godward is necessary if I’m to stand firm in Christ.

The Old Testament is full of episodes where many of the things which happen inwardly and invisibly now were practiced outwardly and physically then. Circumcision, for example, was a visible physical sign then, whereas true spiritual circumcision is now a circumcision of the heart. Under the new covenant a true Israelite is not one by ethnicity, but only if he is God’s inwardly. Idolatry, back then, often involved physical Ashera idols that could be chopped down with an axe, whereas the typical forms of idolatry I contend with now include inward orientations toward greed, pride, and covetousness.

As a help in my inward battle with sin and the pursuit of the glory of God in Christ I have the many Old Testament examples for my consideration and instruction. As I face inner battles it is very helpful to have physical illustrations that help my mind with concrete, imaginable stories. Such is Exodus, chapters thirty-two and thirty-three. They illustrate the mortification of sin and the glory of Christ.

First Corinthians, chapter ten, recounts a few occurrences of Israel’s wandering in the wilderness and equates these events with spiritual realities in Christ. Passing under the cloud is likened to our baptism in Christ. Drinking from the rock is like our drinking living water from Christ. Verses six and eleven explicitly say that these occurrences that happened in the desert are for examples and for our instruction. This is a massive statement. Especially considering that the primary example in view in chapter eleven is Israel’s rebellion and subsequent judgment, in which thousands died. Calculating by human lives, this was a very high price to pay to create an example, an illustration, a lesson, for me. But so it is. The great cost of this lesson should cause me to weigh very heavily the reading of Paul’s conclusion in versus twelve and fourteen,

“Therefore let him who thinks he stands take heed that he does not fall. No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it. Therefore, my beloved, flee from idolatry.”

What happened in the desert was harsh–not undeserved, but a very costly and painful lesson. The weight of these real, physical, painful occurrences are given to focus my mind on the reality, urgency and weightiness of their point–resist temptation.

Back to Exodus thirty-two and thirty-three, these two adjacent chapters are equally instructional. In chapter thirty-two I see a real-life, physical demonstration of killing sin. In chapter thirty-three I see a real-life, physical demonstration of eyes laying hold of the glory of God. The one prepares the stage for the other.

The reason these stories are so helpful is that they help to make metaphors more real. For example, Jesus uses metaphors like cutting out eyes or chopping off hands. He uses such language to emphasize the urgency of fighting sin–and I must hear and heed these extreme words. But they are metaphors. Jesus doesn’t intend that I literally employ such ineffective strategies–but rather to accept the urgency of not tolerating sin or else I may end up in hell. The real battleground and the most effective techniques in battling my sin are spiritual and employed in my mind, my thoughts and my heart. But it is very useful for me to consider the scene described in Exodus thirty-two to give examples to these metaphors.

The Israelites had, in short order (Moses being absent for forty days), turned to idolatry and had begun worshiping a golden calf. Moses did not merely rebuke the people that sinned. He killed them. He ordered that all who were loyal to the Lord strap on swords and kill each one his brother, his neighbor, his friends. Wow. I cannot imagine how they could do that. I imagine it’s very hard for a soldier to kill, even when he’s killing an enemy, but killing a friend–unimaginable. Yet the Lord is over all and no friendship or family relationship trumps obedience to our maker and so they did it. The passage does not go into gory details but it is not hard to imagine the terrible scene of these faithful men, swords in hand, striking down those they had known all their lives. They struck at the ones with whom they had been enslaved in Egypt, the ones who celebrated with them at the sea, and with those who stood in awe with them at Mt. Sinai. They killed the ones they walked with, the ones they talked to every day. They attacked their fellow desert sojourners, cutting them to pieces with the sword.

This chapter is instructive for me because such is the killing of my own sins–my dear friends, my comforters, the ones I have been familiar with all my days. These close sins have entertained me and pretended to care for me. My familiar friends need the sword. Any so called friend that would encourage me to turn to idols rather than seek the living God is no true friend. Though I am familiar with my sins and though they are tightly integrated into my life–I must be as ruthless toward them as those Israelites who obeyed Moses, picking up their swords and swinging without mercy at their close, intimate and idolatrous friends. It is hard to put sin to death. But fixing the story of Exodus thirty-two in my mind–being instructed by it–I know I must take up the sword and kill my sin with no less vigor and alacrity.

But what of chapter thirty-three? Moses did a hard thing by taking up the sword against idolatry–he purged the sin from the midst of the camp. It is not surprising that having gone to war against sin, the very next chapter describes his seeing God’s glory. Chapter thirty-three is as instructive is chapter thirty-two. Whereas chapter thirty-two instructs as to the mortification of sin, chapter thirty-three instructs as to the ultimate objective of sin killing–seeing and beholding the light of the glory of the only God.

What did Moses want most?

“Now therefore, I pray You, if I have found favor in Your sight, let me know Your ways that I may know You, so that I may find favor in Your sight.”

and

“I pray You, show me Your glory!”

And God said yes. He showed Moses His glory. He passed by before his very eyes.

There is no greater thing than beholding the goodness and glory of God. This is the final result and purpose for my calling as a Christian–Jesus saved me in order to bring me to God (“For Christ also died for sins once for all, the just for the unjust, so that He might bring us to God…” – 1 Peter 3:18), to see Him and His Father’s glory in His eternal kingdom. This is to be my longing and my heart’s desire all my days.

Old Testament physical realities often have corresponding New Testament spiritual realities. What was visible in the old covenant is often invisible in the new. Thus a physical blade is replaced by divine weapons against thoughts and pretensions. Thus Moses’ actual visible experience of God’s glory is replaced with a spiritual apprehension of the glory of God in the face of Christ. And while I do not expect to see His glory with my eyes, while I remain alive, I do expect and desire to apprehend Christ’s glory in my heart by the Spirit. Moses’ words are instructive for killing sin and instructive for seeing God’s glory. And while I do not use metal in my mortifying, yet I do mortify. Neither do I see with my eyes, yet I seek out and long to apprehend spiritually the glory of Christ.

Dear Lord. I pray, show me Your glory. Jesus, keep me longing, waiting, and seeking. Let me not become satisfied with small things when awesome things are promised. Set the eyes of my heart on things above where you are, in your glory. You are my heart’’ desire–intensify this desire for you. I need you more and more. Amen.

It seems impossible that Israel would grumble so soon after seeing such a wonder as the parting of the Red Sea and the wholesale destruction of Pharaoh and the army of Egypt. Within three verses in the text (three days in real time for the Israelites) they go from the heights of praise singing and dancing, to grumbling against Moses for water. And then again, they grumbled about food, and then for water again. As an outside observer reading the story it’s easy to criticize Israel, but guess what? I do the same thing almost every day. Such is the blindness of unbelief. It will not be satisfied with the past works of God. It will not trust in the future works of God. At the moment of need it grumbles and complains rather than trusting in God.

All I have to do to see how much I have in common with Israel is to equate each impulse I have toward grumbling with the same sin of unbelief that Israel demonstrated in the wilderness. Ouch.

I don’t want to be unbelieving but believing. I’d rather act with anticipation waiting patiently by faith to see the gracious provision of God for my needs, than grumble and complain, poisoning my heart, blinding me to His goodness, and dishonoring Christ. 1 Corinthians 10:10 says that this exact passage (noting especially the grumbling of Israel) was written for my instruction, that I might take heed and resist temptation–the temptation in this case to grumbling. So what is there that can help me be more faithful and less complaining?

The passage reveals two things that happen when the grumbling of unbelief rises in my soul. By learning to recognize these two traits of unbelief perhaps I can enact an early warning system in my soul so that when I start to see them I can repent more quickly.

One, the grumbling of unbelief does not see who its accusation is really directed toward, and two, it greatly exaggerates and distorts the circumstances at hand.

First it is misdirected. When I grumble in unbelief it may be at my computer, my children, a client, or some other object of frustration. Yet, the providence of God is behind every circumstance and so my grumbling is really against God. I can just imagine my computer responding like Moses, “who am I, just a bunch of processors and circuit boards–that you complain against me–your grumblings are not against me, but against the Lord.”

Secondly, when I grumble in unbelief my perceptions get distorted. There may very well be a real frustration or need, but in unbelief I exaggerate and mischaracterize the problem. Did Israel really believe that Moses did everything he did with the purpose of getting them out into the desert just to starve them to death? Come on! How could they say that? Yet what do I do when my computer won’t print? “Ahgh, that Bill Gates is out to get me! Microsoft is evil, they are trying to drive me crazy” How exaggerated and distorted! How blind to the hundreds of blessings my computer enables every day! For every software glitch I experience there must be thousands working properly, each designed by an engineer with a genuine desire to make my life better or easier through software. Yet one failure and my flesh is convinced that “they’re all out to get me.”

If I monitor the thoughts of my heart closely, looking out for these two characteristics of a grumbling unbelieving heart, perhaps I will catch myself more often and thereby sin less and trust God more. But what of the dozens of times every day when I don’t catch my grumbles? After all, murmuring and complaining flow so naturally out of a sinful heart like mine. What of all these sins? Thank God, His Grace by the blood of Christ is powerful enough to both change me and to forgive me when I fail–though my failure is as common as breathing. John Owen described so well, the vastness of God’s grace in view of the commonness of my sins,

“How many millions of sins, in every one of the elect, every one whereof were enough to condemn them all, has this love overcome! What mountains of unbelief does it remove! Look upon the conversation of any one saint, consider the frame of his heart, see the many stains and spots, the defilements and infirmities, wherewith his life is contaminated, and tell me whether the love that bears with all this be not to be admired. And is it not the same towards thousands every day? What streams of grace, purging, pardoning, quickening, assisting, do flow from it every day! This is our Beloved, O ye daughters of Jerusalem.” Of Communion with God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost

Beware O my soul, of the misdirection of grumbling and the exaggeration of circumstances. Though they may be toward inconsequential things, like computers, they nevertheless reveal the presence of unbelief in your heart. So repent. Listen to the Word–it is not silicon chips that you vent your rage toward, but the Lord. And He is not out to get you. Far from it, He is out to bless you. When you hear the grumbling of unbelief rising up—be quiet, repent, and remind yourself of what is true and accurate about your circumstances. Put off the grumbling of unbelief and return to the songs of praise which flow from seeing and remembering the glory of the Lord, His goodness, His perfect care, and the millions of ways He blesses you every day. So be it Lord. Amen.

Joseph’s brothers protested against the accusation of theft. They were indignant, even offended, that such men as themselves would be accused. They appealed to their character and their righteousness against the charge, “far be it from your servants,” “how then could we steal.” Their protest against the specific charge was genuine since they had been set up by Joseph. Yet when the silver cup was discovered they tore their clothes and fell down. They confessed before Joseph “God has found out the iniquity of your servants.”

Isn’t it odd that these scoundrels, liars, kidnappers, and band of immoral men would appeal to their character in declaration of their innocence? Ironically, they were innocent with respect to the cup – but they were guilty regarding so much greater injustice. Yet they were hard hearted toward their own sinfulness and blinded to their true guilt.

This turn of events affected Judah the most among all the brothers since he had made his own sons surety for the safe return of Benjamin. Interestingly, when they had returned from their first trip to Egypt it was Reuben who offered his son in surety for Benjamin. Reuben was the least guilty among the brothers since he tried to rescue Joseph. Reuben’s offer was refused by his father. But later, a similar offer from Judah was accepted. As the ringleader of the kidnapping and now with his sons at stake, Judah stood at the center of conviction. Events arranged themselves so that this guilty one was brought to his knees. It was Judah who said it – “how can we justify ourselves?” Though still blind to his real sin, and hardened to the extent of sin in his own heart, God brought him to repentance using a silver cup.

It’s amazing how God patiently makes arrangements in my life to bring about conviction. How often small unexpected things in my life get revealed – things relatively minor in comparison to other deeper sins that are much more dishonoring to God.

I am so resistant to conviction and I often protest my innocence when God reveals a hidden silver cup of sin concealed in my sack of deeds. “I didn’t know that was there,” I protest – “I didn’t put it there,” I object. But protest is useless – there it is. And like Joseph’s brothers I protest in vain because such cups are small things – I am actually guilty of so much more. But a small thing, objectively revealed, breaks my heart and God in His mercy brings me to repentance. It is merciful of God when He accomplishes my repentance and contrition through gentleness – knowing that I often cannot bear the direct disclosure of the deepest sins of my heart. So He prepares me for such disclosures by humbling me and granting me a contrite and broken spirit – with smaller things first. Then, bowed down, found out, I am prepared to face my real sin – just as Joseph’s brothers would soon realize who they were caught by – and be faced with what they really had done.

O Lord. Thank you for your tender mercy and steadfast love. Thank you for sneaking in those silver cups – designed and arranged to convict me of sin. Thank you that you don’t usually reveal the deepest things immediately – but that you architect my repentance so that I am not crushed. Yet you do reveal. I will see the betrayals of my own heart – but thank you Lord that as you reveal you also remind me of my forgiveness, complete in Christ and secured by the cross. You are good – and your lovingkindness lasts forever. Amen.

The baptism of John was a baptism of repentance, so one could interpret this passage “the people acknowledged God’s justice for they had repented, but the Pharisees rejected God’s purpose for themselves because they had not repented.” Looking to God from a position of repentance causes us to delight in Him and acknowledge His justice. Whereas engaging Him from a position of pride, without repentance, only makes us like the Pharisee, perplexed, suspicious and arrogant, as we ultimately reject God’s purposes, His forgiveness, and His salvation.

This episode contrasting the Pharisees and the sinful woman demonstrates the profound difference between knowing Jesus with and without repentance. The Pharisee invited Jesus to dinner, not because desired to be with Jesus or to draw near to Him – but more likely because he thought Jesus might make an interesting dinner guest. He wanted to check Jesus out – to see if He might be able to discern whether He was a prophet or not. Perhaps this Pharisee thought that getting some face time with Jesus would allow him to develop a stronger position on the subject of who Jesus was – thereby making him more influential among his peers. Whatever motivated the invitation, it was not faith and repentance.

The sinful woman, on the other hand, came to Him full of repentance. She saw Jesus as Lord and one through whom she could receive forgiveness for her many sins. Her repentance and faith caused her heart to be filled with love and mournful joy as she wept and washed His feet with her tears. The same Jesus sat before both of them. To one He was worshiped as savior while the other rejected Him, disqualifying Him as a prophet because He received the worship of a sinner.

O how much better is repentance as a prescription for failing eyesight than any pair of glasses. Put on repentance and brokenness over sin and the glory of Christ majestically comes into view. Without repentance Jesus is just a man – a man of confusion whose words and actions are often incomprehensible. With repentance Jesus is glorious. Approach Him without repentance and all you can say is “who is this man?” Come before Him through repentance and you fall at His feet to worship!

O Lord, I’m so much more like the Pharisee than the sinful woman. How shallow is my repentance. Grant me, by your grace, deeper, fuller repentance that I might see Christ more clearly and love Him more. Break through my hard heart that I might fall down in tears and worship at His feet. Have mercy 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?

One of my motivations for putting pen to paper when I meditate on the Word of God is to save myself from thinking lightly about the riches of God. My joy in reading and pondering God’s Word fades quickly when I don’t write down my observations. If I move too quickly over the Word I’ll think lightly of them. But if I slow down and let them sink in, they gain weight. Writing out my thoughts slows me down – it requires me to think more deeply about the words. Not only has the discipline of writing caused me to give more weight to the Word, but it also helps me to handle the Word in a more fitting way, in a manner that reflects the treasure chest of glory that it truly is.

Every single day I experience the profound mercy, kindness and forbearance of God. If I could see the true condition of my life and my heart, without a self-defending, blind eye toward my own sin; if I could see my sin like God does, I would not think so lightly about His longsuffering forbearance! I praise God that He is a covenant keeping God, upholding the value of Christ’s righteousness, granting me forgiveness on His behalf. Otherwise, if God did not uphold Christ’s righteousness for me, I would quickly be overwhelmed by the wrath of God stored up day after God-forgetting day.

How easily I forget about God’s mercy and kindness and presume upon His mercy. Not just for my own sin, but for His forbearance toward all the sins of mankind. There are times when the earth reminds us of God’s impending wrath and judgment against sin. When we face such reminders we are sobered. But often, in my case, such sobriety is short lived and I return to my mercy-forgetting, kindness amnesia. I return to a state of comfort-expecting, difficulty-despising forgetfulness.

O my soul, work at not thinking lightly about God’s kindness to you. Ponder His forbearance both in His common blessings, and all the more in His wondrous grace granted to you in Christ! Lord, please help me to lift from your Word weighty rocks of truth and remembrance. Let me put them in my pockets so that throughout the day their presence will be felt, keeping me from thinking lightly about your grace to me in Christ. Thank you, Jesus. Amen.

Jesus states, “You will all fall away, because it is written….” Peter strenuously objects, as do all the disciples. Nevertheless, as it is written so shall it come to pass. As much as Peter does not like it – and at the moment when he hears it he cannot conceive of it – he will, with all certainty, deny his Lord. It is impossible for it not to happen. It is written – it is in print, the ink has dried. Peter’s refusals and denials do not change the fact. It was ordained by God and recorded in His word. “I will strike down the shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered.”

Oh, my soul, be sobered and encouraged. God Himself ordained in writing Jesus’ betrayal by Judas, and His denial by Peter. Yet God’s pre-design of my own sinful failures, betrayals, and denials removes none of my culpability. Nor does it lessen the “punch in the gut” impact of sorrow and shame that comes from my own sin. God can write beforehand that I will be a sinner and that I will sin. He knows and permits every detail of every sin I have ever committed, or will commit. And woe to me when I sin, it is to my awful shame when I dishonor my God.

But be encouraged, O my soul, because God has a superior pre-ordained purpose for permitting my sin – that is Christ, and the blood of His covenant. Those for whom Jesus died have perfect hope that we will be able to stand in the presence of His glory and not be destroyed for our sins. Unlike Judas who was ordained to eternal destruction – rather, like Peter, I have been ordained to repent, be restored, and receive eternal forgiveness. It has pleased our merciful God to lay my sins on Him and cure me of an eternally fatal disease. God’s glory displayed in such mercy is the only way I can understand how God would be willing that sins, such as those that brought Christ to the cross, and mine that dishonor Him daily, should exist. And in my own turning to His mercy, crying out for it in the light of my sinfulness, I discover why God allows, even pre-ordains my sins. If God writes my sins down in a book before they happen, my shame and my disgust of them is no less. Yet in the forgiveness of my sins my self-disgust can turn to Christ’s praise. O Lord, in view of such redemption I see that my terrible sins ultimately exist for your glory as mercy is displayed in and through the blood of Christ.

Lord I do not like the fact that, unless I die quickly, there remain sins that I will commit. Right now I want to cry out like Peter “Never! Even if I have to die with you I will not deny you.” Yet I humbly acknowledge my sin and accept with all the corresponding shame my inclinations toward sin. Keep me, O Lord, and preserve me – make me holy. In your preserving, sanctifying work, help me always confess every sin with sorrow and disgrace – yet also and even more, rejoice that in your mercy you have appointed Christ for my forgiveness and that I have been, and will be, cleansed by his blood. Be glorified in your mercy. In Jesus name. Amen.

“The LORD your God is in your midst, A victorious warrior. He will exult over you with joy, He will be quiet in His love, He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy.”

Zephaniah 3:14-15, 17

At, first, when I read verses like these in Zephaniah, verses that extol me to shout with joy, or to rejoice and exalt with all my heart, at first my heart rises with the possibility of such an astounding and consuming joy in God. Quickly following this spark, however, sadness often comes because my heart, in fact, is not like this. Such exuberance of joy and gladness displayed in such active expressions as shouting for joy are not typical of my emotional currents. Yet the occasion that calls for such joyful, glad celebration has been more completely delivered to me than it had been for those to whom these verses were originally written. They originally promised a physical deliverance from armies of oppressors. I have been given a greater deliverance; I have been delivered from sin. All God’s judgments have been thoroughly taken away from me. He has utterly defeated my enemies. Why shouldn’t my heart rejoice and shout joyfully since I have received, in full, these promises?

In truth, my heart may rejoice, and does rejoice by the grace of God, yet there are preventers that can keep my heart from the joy to which it has been called, or that mitigate and stifle the fullness of its joy. What are these evil, stubborn preventers; these robbers and mufflers of joy? In a word they are my sin, residing yet in my flesh, which daily and constantly battles against my faith to the end that I will fail to lay hold of the glorious victory God has already won through Christ’s overcoming on the cross. By the spirit I may have the spiritual eyes to see and the spiritual ears to hear the victory song of my risen Lord. But if the flesh wins its skirmishes my faith will be weakened so that the heavenly singing fades and my joy diminishes.

Oh to gain the victory, by the Spirit, over the flesh and kill my sin. Putting to death the flesh is necessary if my faith is to be strong. And when my faith is strong and I can hear more clearly the sounds of joy and my heart resonates with its chords.

The fight of faith includes daily battles, and while it has not been ordained for me to decisively win every battle, it has been ordained for me to fight a winning war, to gain ground, to push back the enemy, to grow in strength, and, praise God, to ultimately win. Therefore I will fight and engage in battle and wrestle against sin, and never give up.

Here is just one tactical maneuver I can use in my fighting. Look at verse 17 “He will exalt over you with joy, He will be quiet in his love, He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy.” At moments when my heart might not be shouting for joy I need to remember that God, though I may not hear it, is singing over me with joy and rejoicing over me with shouts of joy. While my heart might grow faint, God’s never does. While my joy might ebb and flow His never does. Let the bigness, the sovereignty, the transcendence of God always assure me that He is in control, but remember that for as infinite as God is, He is also personal, present, and emotionally engaged, more deeply than I will ever know. His call to me to rejoice with shouts of joy is not a call to originate something out from myself. It is a call to respond to His shouts of joy. To command my rejoicing is not to frustrate me by requiring something that I cannot generate – it is a command that awakens faith to see and hear the exaltation of God’s joy and to be caught up in His victory song.

Therefore my soul, when you are fighting against the deadening attacks of the flesh, fight back with faith that believes that God’s music yet plays – His songs are being sung, He is shouting with joy. Let your heart arise and think about the music of heaven – make your shouts of joy an echoing of God’s shouts of joy. Meditate and contemplates on what it will sound like when the war is over and the final battle has been won, and your faith will turn to sight and the songs of heaven will ring forth, and your ears will hear them perfectly. Listen soul; listen to the joy of the Lord.

Jonah 2:2-4

Listen carefully my soul. What do you say when God, in his inscrutable ways, casts you into the deep? What happens in your heart when you feel expelled from the Lord’s presence? Whether you are engulfed as the result of your own sin, fleeing from the Lord like Jonah, or whether your trial is for no apparent cause, such as Joseph’s experience in prison, listen carefully to what your heart says in that day. O that you would say “Nevertheless I will look again toward thy Holy Temple!” Trials, whether self-inflicted from sinning, or purely from your heavenly Father’s perfect design for your holiness and purity, will come. Such times of affliction are appointed to you. What will you say when you are in such distress? Will you look toward the one who afflicts you, the one who casts you into the deep, and cry out to Him for help? Will you set your face steadfast toward His Holy Temple? Will you remember the Lord and look to Him to bring you up from the depths?

Listen soul; in the day of trouble do not make your struggle worse by turning away from the one who saves. Do not raise a complaint against Him. Cry out to Him, call to Him, look to Him and He will raise you up out of the pit. O that my soul would look to God, even though He strike me. Such fruit of faith, such steadfastness, will produce confidence and strengthen my assurance in God, the God who holds me in His hands. That my heart would look to God in the midst of affliction is in itself a blessing from God, a blessing that demonstrates the preserving power of the God I trust.

But what if I do raise a complaint like Job? What if I turn my face away and declare God unjust in what He has done to me? Beware soul, such a response is deadly; such a response in your heart maybe the very thing God is raising to the surface in casting you under the waves. Perhaps such poisonous thoughts of God were killing your faith quietly, until His afflictions came. So if your find your heart turning away from His Holy Temple in affliction, tremble and repent. Turn your complaint into deeply felt gratitude that your heavenly father is willing to go to any lengths to purify out all dross and faith-killing poison from your heart. Confess your weakness, your faithlessness, your discontent, and turn your gaze toward His Holy Temple. Cry out to Him and hear His answer to you. Know that all His purposes for you are for your good and your eternal happiness. Trust Him in the day of trouble and let your roots grow deep in Him.

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD And whose trust is the LORD.
For he will be like a tree planted by the water,
That extends its roots by a stream
And will not fear when the heat comes;
But its leaves will be green,
And it will not be anxious in a year of drought
Nor cease to yield fruit.”

Jer. 17:7-8

John own writes this sentence in the context of waiting on God to restore peace to us, after we’ve repented of a particular sin. His advice is that we do not jump too quickly from confession to restoration. Yes it is blessedly true that we have been fully forgiven even from the time of Christ’s death on the cross. Yet God is the one with whom we are seeking peace, when we turn from our hostile activity of sinning, and so is God who must bestow it. Forgiveness and restoration are ours by possession; they have, in fact, been given to us in their entirety through Christ’s death, once for all. Yet its application, such that we are fully healed and relationally restored to God happens incrementally. God is faithful and dependable. We need not fear his rejection, but we must wait for Him to touch us, and move by his Holy Spirit, thus bring us deep and experiential peace. We must use all the means God has ordained – repentance, confession, restitution, and repudiation, among others, yet God is the one who will decide when it is best for us to obtain what we seek by them, in this case, peace with God.

I think this principle is the same with regard to all of the means of grace God has ordained. Whether it be prayer, the Word, spiritual gifts, or simply general health. We must use the proper means of attaining these things, but the results are never mechanical or automatic, yet it is assured. God will bestow the blessings of grace upon us at the time, and in the manner that He, by his perfect wisdom, knows will be best for us. Normally, God is quick, sometimes instantaneous in bestowing blessings when we use means of obtaining blessing. He is so consistent and dependable in this, that it is no wonder that we sometimes begin to think of means, and bestowing, as automatically connected. Yet the bestowing of Grace always remains God’s prerogative, and sometimes, if only to remind us of this, he will withhold, or delay his blessing, even as we avail ourselves of proper means. He does this lovingly, carefully, and wisely, as a gentle shepherd and doctor to our souls. He does this for our good, our benefit, and our greater blessing. He does this for his own glory, and for his glory to be known by us most fully, which is, of course, our greatest good.

Consequently, I must be active in using and availing myself of every established and ordained means of grace by which I may lay hold of that which I need (and I need God). I must rise early. I must open my eyes to the Word. I must ask God for help. I must pray and praise and worship. I must seek diligently, desperately and vigorously. I must confess my sin in my weakness. I must look to Jesus. Because of God’s promises he will bless these means, but it is his prerogative as to how and when. It is for me to use the means; it is for God to bless them.

Thank you, Lord, for your complete and total faithfulness. Thank you for giving me life and breath and strength that I might use the means you’ve ordained. Please help me to continue to use them. Grant me steadfastness and perseverance and endurance in using all available means. Make me patient and humble, and happy to trust you for the blessing I desire and the grace I need. In Jesus’ name. Amen.