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

How good it is to come out the other side of a trial. Trials are painful, but they accomplish a good purpose. But going through them is no fun. All trials are designed to produce a fruitful harvest of righteousness and they always ultimately improve our lives and increase our joy. How good it is to enjoy the fruit of righteousness which has been born of an accomplished and completed trial.

We live through seasons – seasons of trial and seasons of refreshments and rest. Yet if we still have life we can be assured that there are still trials laid out before us. Sometimes we see trials coming. We may foresee a financial trial – or maybe we experience early symptoms of a progressive illness. In such times we endure stress and dread of what is coming.

God’s grace is sufficient in every trial. He walks with us through them all. Yet we still dread our trials. I’m thankful that I do not know the details of the trials that I have yet to endure. I am protected from dread because I do not know the details of tomorrow’s evil. I trust God that when they come, His grace will flow, and He will meet all my needs. I also have a sense of peace and rest today, in part because I am protected from the knowledge of what I may face tomorrow. For example, I do not know how I will die – whether as an old man in my sleep or with my days cut short in some accident or by some painful disease. I’m glad I don’t know – my God ordained ignorance affords me a measure of peace for today.

But Jesus was not ignorant of His trial. He knew exactly what was coming. His distress was full of the perfect knowledge of exactly what was coming His way. Yet He did not shrink back. He faced, with full knowledge, all the dreadful pains in front of Him. He knew He would be betrayed by one friend and denied by another. He knew that conspiracy and injustice that would put Him in chains. He knew of the beatings, mocking, spitting and beard plucking. He knew about the flogging and the thorns. He knew about the cross, the piercing and stabbing. He also knew about the cup. The cup of wrath had to be drunk, and He knew He had to drink it down.

If I were to learn today that I had cancer and would have to undergo chemotherapy which would cause awful nausea and vomiting, I would have much dread to endure in sickly anticipation of the actual events themselves. In contrast, if I suddenly came down with a stomach virus I might have the same ultimate experience, but without the dead of anticipating the pain. How much more potent the dread Jesus faced as he drew near the time of His death. As He faced the ultimate dread, He did not waver, He did not run away, He proceeded in perfect obedience and willingly endured the cross. The cross did not come upon Him suddenly and by surprise, but rather step-by-step according to His full knowledge and perfect anticipation.

How strong He is. How brave He is. How fearless. How resolute. How admirable and worthy of praise.

He did it and it is accomplished! He underwent that baptism and it is complete. No trial lays before Him – all has been established. For the joy set before Him, He endured the cross. And now that He has accomplished it, He lives in perfect joy. He had the worst of trials and now He enjoys the greatest of its fruits – forever.

How sweet it is too, that He invites us to enjoy His joy with Him. He is preparing our place. He will deliver us into the fullness of His kingdom where all our trials will be past and only joy will remain.

Thank you, Jesus for your endurance and strength. Thank you for securing our blessings and establishing a waterfall of grace and mercy which abounds for us forever. Grant me grace in times of trial and a view of the eternal weight of glory to sustain me and anchor my hope and my delight in you. 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.

Which, among all the great things that Jesus has done for me, should I describe? For if my eyes are open and my heart is responsive to the tender mercies of God, I will see a thousand great things every day that God does for me. Even trials, which sometimes cloud my view of God’s blessings, can be counted among the great things God does, since they flow from His throne of grace. Times of testing are brief in the balance of eternity and Jesus will turn each test and every pain into servants for my good.

The demoniac suffered greatly under the oppression of a legion of demons. But when Jesus freed him, he testified not about the details of his past torment, but rather of the grace, mercy, and power of God which came to him through Christ. He described his new freedom and proclaimed the blessings restored to him.

What great things should I proclaimed today? I could speak of the many lovely things God has granted to me in His mercy. With little effort I could quickly list a dozen prominent blessings of home and health. And with a bit of focused thought I could list a hundred more common graces that bless me throughout my days, all of which are among the great things God does for me.

Yet I desire to speak of just one great thing God has done, the one thing that matters most, the one thing through which every other blessing has been secured. Jesus went to the cross for me. The demoniac testified to some great things he received, but the greatest thing had not yet been done for him. Greater than freedom from demons is freedom from sin. Greater than the blessing of restored sanity is freedom from the just wrath of God.

What great things will I proclaim? I will proclaim the cross of Christ which brings into view the glorious gospel of God’s grace: God’s righteousness and upheld, God’s justice satisfied, God’s wrath emptied, my adoption into his family, my transfer into His kingdom, and my eternal blessing secured through Christ.

O Lord what great things you have done for me. Every one of them has been purchased by your blood. Therefore your blood, your death, and your victory by resurrection are my greatest good. Let me be satisfied to proclaim the greatest thing – the gospel, which reveals the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. 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?

Paul endured all things, and he was enduring suffering in prison as he wrote 2 Timothy. Paul deliberately chose paths of difficulty and hardship; he was well-content with suffering because by them the chosen could obtain salvation. Certainly, Paul understood the nature of God’s sovereignty, his unconditional election, and the unchangeable state of God-wrought regeneration in the hearts of His chosen ones. So why wouldn’t Paul say something more like “I relax and rest knowing that the chosen will inevitably end up in eternal glory with Christ?” How is it that the chosen may obtain salvation in such a way that Paul’s enduring hardship had something to do with it? How is it, that Paul’s ability, willingness, and endurance were encouraged, helped and motivated by his view that its effects would result in the salvation of the chosen?

Clearly, Paul’s understanding of election is quite different from my notions of it, and the implications I bring to it with my 21st century mind. That God’s pre-determination of all things does not remove true requirements and conditions put upon those who are pre-determined is thoroughly biblical. Perhaps Paul’s previous short illustration of athletes that only win if they compete according to the rules, a few verses before this one, explains something of this spiritual dynamic. Runners must run to win. Not only that, but they must train, practice, push themselves, and suffer pain to win a race. If a runner knew with certainty, by direct revelation from God, that he would be the winner of the race, he could not, based on that knowledge, stop training or allow himself to get out of shape before the race. He would still have to run, train, work out, and compete according to the rules.

God has set rules that govern our salvation and our entrance into it (such as “through much tribulation,” in Acts 14:22). Paul knew that his suffering was part of the race set before him. His suffering was designed into the rules of the game such that by them he would “fill up what was lacking with regard to Christ’s afflictions,” Col 1:24.

Therefore even though Paul knew better than anyone that God would invariably glorify every single one that he had chosen, with out a single exception, and that He would do it by grace alone, through faith in Christ alone; he also knew that the way this would be played out would be, in part, through Paul’s own endurance of suffering. Paul was not passive, but entirely active, earnest, and resolute in all his spiritual activity; in order that all God that had pre-determined, would take place. Not just that the ultimate outcome would take place – but that the outcome would take place and that it would take place according to the “rules,” or according to the means that God had ordained and determined. These means (of grace) are by no means static, automatic or mechanical. They include and depend upon real action, effort and use of them on my part. Paul knew very well that, all that he was, and all that he did, was by grace and through grace, to the glory of Christ (2 Corinthians 10:13).

I have been pondering this subject – the non-mechanical use of the means of grace – for some time now. I have become convinced that in my life, the degree to which I understand this doctrine, and practice my religion accordingly, I live by a vigorous and engaged involvement with God. Conversely, the more I fall back into a sense of automation or passivity – or in other words, the more that I view my spiritual/eternal condition as detached from how I live today, the more I become discouraged, despondent and fatigued.

Despondency, or self-pity, is a mortal enemy of mine. I hate it, but my flesh likes the taste of its bitter fruit. When I suffer, for example with chronic back pain, I can choose to either live according to the flesh and eat self-pity to my destruction (forgive me Lord for how often I eat it), or I can remind myself that as I endure all things (including an aching back), that I do so somehow not just for my sake but also for the sake of the chosen. Somehow in God’s rules, he can take my endurance of pain and put it to work so that not only will I enter salvation through perseverance, but that his people also may obtain the salvation which is in Christ Jesus and with it, eternal glory. My suffering – and more importantly my enduring with faith really matters! It is part of God’s pre-determined rules for my race and that somehow by running it with endurance I will receive a reward, and the saints may also enter eternal glory. Such a view of the non-mechanical means of grace – governed completely and sovereignty by God – yet that genuinely require my choices and actions – invigorates, motivates and enables my endurance. They really matter. They really are effective. They go to work in me and have an effect on others – according to God’s rules and God’s grace. This kind of living puts a knife in the heart of self-pity. Living this way can turn weakness into communion with God, instead of a pity-party.

O Lord, please have mercy on me and forgive my sin. Too often I forget that your grace is sufficient for me. O, that my flesh actually likes the tastes of self pity’s bitter fruit is a horrible reality. Strengthen my hands for battle against this enemy and cause me use all the means you’ve ordained – especially that I would delight myself with the sweet fruit of communion with you. Remind me Lord, every day, that my afflictions are ordained – they are rules set by you for me to endure and that how endure them matters. Thank you that you require me to engage my will to run, and more importantly that you give me the strength, by your grace, to run. Praise you Lord Jesus. Amen.

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

“He sent a man before them,
Joseph, who was sold as a slave.
They afflicted his feet with fetters;
he himself was laid in irons;
Until the time that his word came to pass,
the word of the LORD tested him.
Psalm 105: 3-5, 17-19

Among God’s wonderful stories, which display His glory and make my heart glad by demonstrating His strength, is the story of Joseph in prison. I can imagine Joseph sitting in chains, unable to leave his cell or move about freely. His feet were afflicted in his fetters, he was in misery. Day after day, month after month, year after year he looked at the same dreary walls. His heart must have sunk within him. He must have cried out “Why?” “Why am I stuck here, why must I sit here, chained in this cell?”

Was Joseph trapped? Yes. Was he stuck? Yes. Could he find a way to escape? No. Yet Joseph was right where God wanted him. The prison part of this story is just as much a display of God’s glory as is its conclusion. Yes, Potiphar’s wife’s allegations brought him there, and yes his brother’s sinful actions put him in Egypt in the first place, but it was the Lord who sent him. It was the word of the Lord that tested him. He stayed in prison for the term set by God. God was directing his circumstances not only for the salvation of Israel, but also for the testing, refining, and strengthening of Joseph as well.

Now what about my circumstances? Do I have troubles, worries, and pains? Yes. Not nearly to the degree Joseph had them, but I feel my troubles far more poignantly than I do Joseph’s! Do I feel trapped by these circumstances? Yes I do, and in a sense I am trapped, caught, and unable to free myself from them. Until the word of my God has completed His purposes I will be kept in the circumstances He has sent into my life.

Will I groan under these circumstances? Yes, I will groan, but if by faith I can see and believe that God has sent each one for my ultimate good, and somehow for the good of His people, I can rejoice at the same time. If I see that God is glorious in His strength and in His wisdom in how He ordains every circumstance, both in their nature and in their duration, I can be glad and marvel at His wonderful sovereign purposes. I can look forward to His word accomplishing its purpose and to the time that has been set for their completion. What will the result be? God only knows, but I trust that in some measure, my small, God-given afflictions will work themselves out to an eternal weight of glory and a fruitful harvest of blessing for His people.

O my soul, when you feel trapped and find yourself groaning, remember your fetters have been put there by God. Remember his marvels, His wonders, and His judgments. Trust in His perfect timing His perfect purposes, and do not give into unbelief, but glorify Him by seeking the Lord of all strength. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Jesus upon hearing of John’s death was saddened. He felt so sad that he had to get away by himself and be alone. Who knows what he felt, and how he prayed while on the boat. Certainly, his own fast-approaching death must have weighed heavily on his heart. His emotions were apparently so strong he had to withdraw for a time. Yet, what takes place next shows that rather than his sorrow leading to self-pity, it led to compassion. I have such a hard time understanding how sorrow can exist without self-pity. Praise God that Jesus is perfect and was able to experience sorrow without sin or self-pity!

When Jesus returns to shore he is not irritated, annoyed, or angry that the multitudes clamored after him. Had self-pity been resident in his heart, like it would be in mine, his response would have been resentment rather than compassion. Instead His response to the needy multitude was compassion. This is astounding to me. Here at a low point emotionally, with massive neediness foisted upon Him, He responded with heartfelt compassion! What a man! How merciful, loving, and strong is my Lord Jesus!

Could it be that sorrow, when filtered and comforted by the grace of God, is among the chief means by which God produces true compassion in the heart of his saints? 2 Corinthians 6:10 says that Paul was and his companions were “sorrowful yet always rejoicing.” I must confess that I have not very often had this experience. For me lack of pain equals more rejoicing and felt sorrow equals despondency. Not so for Jesus, and perhaps, if by grace He changes my heart, not so for me.

O Lord, please change my heart. I don’t want to be morose, yet I do want to feel the way I ought to feel with regard to sorrow, yet always be rejoicing in you. Perhaps, that I might be a vessel through which the God of all comfort can strengthen the faith of his saints that they might rejoice more deeply in the glory of God, and in the excellence of Jesus Christ. Amen.

This Psalm was troubling to read. The complaint of the Psalmist continues throughout the entire Psalm and is not answered. His cry, it seems, goes unheard. Unlike many of David’s Psalms, which contain equally impassioned cries for help, this Psalm does not end with a positive declaration of the Psalmist’s plea having been answered. David cried but ultimately said things like “Why are you in despair O my soul, and why have you become disturbed within me? Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him, the help of my countenance, and my God” (Psalm 42:11). But this Psalmist does not testify to any answer from God, he remains in his distress. Nor does he give any hope from his past experience, he does not ask for a restoring to a previous better condition because he seems to have always been in distress, “I was afflicted in about to die from my youth on.” The experience of this Psalmist seems inconsistent with God’s promises to provide help and fill us with joy and gladness. Why would God seemingly pass this praying man over, and include his hopeless plea in his Word?

Conjecture:

1. This kind of experience is atypical. God normally displays his faithfulness through abundance not through sparseness. The experience of David is far more normal, we can expect God to answer our cries for help with abundant grace.

2. God does, at times, withhold blessing. He is sovereign over the bestowing of help, joy, and peace. He can delay our blessing for his good purposes (and our ultimate good) for as long as he sees fit.

3. Such delays are normally not very long. The Lord will come quickly to save his Holy ones. The Lord knows how much we can bear; he knows exactly what He’s doing when He delays, like when Jesus delayed in visiting His sick friend Lazarus.

4. There are many circumstances and experience where the delay is long. This Psalmist’s delay was perhaps lifelong. Others, like David, experience long seasons of struggle, some saints have been imprisoned and suffered for years on end.

5. Whether God answers quickly, or in his wisdom delays, He is perfect in His timing and always acts for the glory of His name and for the maximum joy of His saints and their enjoyment of His glory.

6. Struggle and suffering, in Christ, is always rewarded. “For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison.” 2 Corinthians 4:17

7. If little affliction results in a greater weight of glory, how much more glory is in store for those who are afflicted much? Perhaps such saints will receive an even greater external weight of glory, more than others, precisely because they suffered so much, and for so long. What if God withheld earthly rescue from this Psalmist holding out instead for a much better eternal rescue? Would not this Psalmist consider it worth it all once he arrived in glory? Would not his complaint then be turned to resounding praise?

8. God preserves his saints in affliction. He knows what we can bear and is able to preserve us in our trouble. However much this man languished under despair, he did ultimately persevere in prayer. He did not give up crying out to God. He continued to lift up his hands to the Lord. He did not stop asking for help from the Lord. He did not give up. God’s sovereign preserving, keeping power was made manifest in this man’s life. God’s grace was provided. It kept him faithful to the end. It kept him crying out. It kept him praying. If he had truly lost hope he would have ceased praying and looked elsewhere for help or at least relief. He would have left God and sought comfort in the things of the world and would have been ultimately and finally abandoned. Yet God kept him. The Psalmist kept his eyes on the Lord and prayed. He did not give up, even though the Lord delayed perhaps until his death. This is a testimony of God’s faithfulness and an encouragement for me to keep praying no matter how long God may delay in answering my prayer.

O Lord, please help me to persevere in prayer, especially when I don’t receive what I ask, or your answer is delayed. Thank you Lord, that I can depend on your grace to keep me praying at such times. Please do not let my momentary afflictions cause me to cease praying, rather let afflictions strengthen my resolve and intensify my cry. You are so good. In Jesus’ name I ask. Amen.