what I'm reading: why God allows evil

I was hunting through some old drafts, looking for something to post on a mostly empty blog (we have been away), when I came across this quote from Tim Keller's Walking with God through pain and suffering. Such an encouragement!

Why could it not be that God allowed evil because it will bring us all to a far greater glory and joy than we would have had otherwise? Isn't it possible that the eventual glory and joy we will know will be infinitely greater than it would have been had there been no evil?

What if that future world will somehow be greater for having once been broken and lost? If such is the case, that would truly mean the utter defeat of evil. Evil would not just be an obstacle to our beauty and bliss, but it will have only made it better. Evil would have accomplished the very opposite of what it intended.

How might that come about? At the simplest level, we know that only if there is danger can there be courage. And apart from sin and evil we would never have seen the courage of God, or the astonishing extent of his love, or the glolry of a deity who lays aside his glory and goes to the cross.

For us here in this life, the thought of God's glory is rather remote and abstract. But we must realize that the most rapturous delights you have ever had - in the beauty of a landscape, or in the pleasure of food, or in the fulfillment of a loving embrace - are like dewdrops compared to the bottomless ocean of joy that it will be to see God face-to-face (1 John 3:1-3). That is what we are in for, nothing less.

And according to the Bible, that glorious beauty, and our enjoyment of it, has been immeasurable enhanced by Christ's redemption of us from evil and death ... Because of our fall and redemption, we will achieve a level of intimacy with God that cannot be received any other way ...

And why could it not be that our future glory will actually so "swallow" the evil of the past that in some unimaginable way even the memory of the evil won't darken our hearts but only make us happier? (117-118)

what I'm reading: learning surrender

One of the ways suffering shapes you is that it teaches you peace. It teaches you surrender. It teaches you to trust and accept God's will. It teaches you that his love and grace will always be there, no matter what.

After four years of fighting God over my son's chronic illness - of asking him, "Why?" - of crying out with bitterness, there was a night, etched deep in my memory, when I reached the bottom of the well, that dark place where there's nothing left but surrender. And with that surrender came peace.

And so, when my husband Steve was diagnosed with cancer, there was something in me that accepted it. The day I heard, I felt angry at God - I don't deny it. But it took much less time for me to reach a place of surrender. I have seen God's love in the hardest places. It is strong, and it is real. And so I can submit myself more gladly to his will.

Which is all by way of introduction to this quote, from a women who suffered two miscarriages, and then, years later, another two. Here's what she says:

We tried again and miscarried—my fourth miscarriage during six years of marriage. My response during those days was quite different from the first two. I was sobered. I knew I didn’t have control—I couldn’t make a baby be born—and I was surrendered to that fact.

I was also at peace. I had spent the last few years preparing for another trial, and God’s promise stood true:

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (Phil. 4: 6-7).

Surrendering to the Lord, crying out for help, and thanking him for what I did have proved to bring me great peace. God also tells us that the mind set on him will be given peace, because that person trusts the Lord (Is. 26:3). The Lord was faithful to fulfill these promises. I was at peace because he had given me peace. I was at peace because Jesus was enough for me.

Can I encourage you not to be scared of suffering? Yes, it is terrible, and it hurts horribly. But God will be there for you. You may not see it straight away; it may take years for you to see it; but it is true. His will is good. His grace is enough. He walks with us. He shelters us. And nothing and nobody can separate us from his love for us in Jesus. Be at peace.

You can read the full article by Trillia Newbell at Christianity Today.

straight talk on trials

Straight talk on trials from Lisa Spence. I had to quote this so I wouldn't forget it:

1. How I react to the trial reflects what I really care about. This is an ugly truth, but one worth considering with great soberness. Whether it is a sudden devastation or a lingering irritation, what I value will be exposed by my reactions and most often this will require confession and repentance as I work through the sin and idols that are exposed.

2. The Lord is my only true hope and comfort. This truth is closely related to #1. As my false comforts and selfish desires are exposed, I must rehearse to myself the sufficiency of the Lord. Whatever it is I think I want or need I will find it in the Lord!

3. The Lord was faithful yesterday, He is faithful today, and He will be faithful tomorrow. How easily I forget the countless ways He delivers me and sustains me! Rehearsing His past faithfulness fuels my trust in Him.

You can read the rest here.

All your waves and breakers have swept over me. (Psalm 42:7)

They are HIS waves, whether they break over us,
    Hiding His face in smothering spray and foam;
Or smooth and sparkling, spread a path before us,
    And to our haven bear us safely home.

They are HIS waves, whether for our sure comfort
    He walks across them, stilling all our fear;
Or to our cry there comes no aid nor answer,
    And in the lonely silence none is near.

They are HIS waves, whether we are hard-striving
    Through tempest-driven waves that never cease,
While deep to deep with turmoil loud is calling;
    Or at His word they hush themselves in peace.

They are HIS waves, whether He separates them,
    Making us walk dry ground where seas had flowed;
Or lets tumultuous breakers surge about us,
    Rushing unchecked across our only road.

They are HIS waves, and He directs us through them;
    So He has promised, so His love will do.
Keeping and leading, guiding and upholding,
    To His sure harbor, He will bring us through.

- Annie Johnson Flint

what I'm reading: when all other lights go out

I remember it so clearly. I lay on my front across Steve's hospital bed, and he sat in a chair by a window with a view of a brick wall. A nurse stuck her head round the curtains and said, "You look relaxed, like you're on holiday or something!".

We weren't. We'd just found out what kind of cancer Steve has, and I was reading to him from Tim Keller's Walking with God through pain and suffering.

I haven't been able to read much the last 3 months. But I recently picked up Keller's book again. He explores three aspects of suffering - philosophy, theology, and experience - and suggests you begin with the section most relevant to your circumstances, then go back and read the others.

I started with the section on philosophy and culture (before Steve got ill), skipped to the bit on experience (after we found out Steve has cancer), and am now reading the chapters on theology. The philosophy is fascinating and intellectually satisfying; the theology (so far) sound and clear; the section on experience, deeply encouraging.

It's a rich, wise, nourishing book. I recommend it highly. And it's full of quotable quotes, some by Keller, some collected from others. Here's one that sums up our year so far:

This is a dark world. There are many ways we keep that darkness at bay, but we cannot do it forever. Eventually the lights of our lives - love, health, home, work - will begin to go out. ... The Bible says that Jesus is the light of the world. If you know you are in his love, and that nothing can snatch you out of his hand, and that he is taking you to God's house and God's future - then he can be a light for you in dark places when all other lights go out. (123-124)

 Here's one that gives me hope:

At some point, for all eternity, there will be no more unmerited suffering: this present darkness, "the age of evil", will eventually be remembered as a brief flicker at the beginning of human history. Every evil done by the wicked to the innocent will have been avenged, and every tear will have been wiped away. (Peter van Inwagen, quoted p. 117)

And, finally, here's one on the "why" of suffering and the cross:

We do not know the reason God allows evil and suffering to continue, or why it is so random, but now at least we know what the reason is not. It cannot be that he does not love us. It cannot be that he does not care. He is so committed to our ultimate happiness that he was willing to plunge into the greatest depths of suffering himself.  He understand us, he has been there, and he assures us that he has a plan to eventually wipe away every tear. Someone might say, "But that's only half an answer to the question "Why?". Yes, but it is the half we need. (121)

I guess you can see why I love this book so much.

to be a soldier

A wonderful Charles Spurgeon quote sent to me by a friend:

Dear believer, do you understand that God may take away your comforts and privileges in order to make you a stronger Christian? Do you see why the Lord always trains His soldiers not by allowing them to lie on beds of ease but by calling them to difficult marches and service?

He makes them wade through streams, swim across rivers, climb steep mountains, and walk many long marches carrying heavy backpacks of sorrow. This is how He develops soldiers—not by dressing them up in fine uniforms to strut at the gates of the barracks or to appear as handsome gentlemen to those who are strolling through the park.

No, God knows that soldiers can only be made in battle and are not developed in times of peace. We may be able to grow the raw materials of which soldiers are made, but turning them into true warriors requires the education brought about by the smell of gunpowder and by fighting in the midst of flying bullets and exploding bombs, not by living through pleasant and peaceful times.

So, dear Christian, could this account for your situation? Is the Lord uncovering your gifts and causing them to grow? Is He developing in you the qualities of a soldier by shoving you into the heat of the battle? Should you not then use every gift and weapon He has given you to become a conqueror?

 Amen!

what I'm reading: wounded but not wasted

I thought there could be no worthy successor to JI Packer's Knowing God to feed my soul this year. I was wrong.

On a Friday morning, sitting under the oak trees outside my favourite cafe, I can't wait to open Tim Chester's The Ordinary Hero.

Here's a favourite quote-within-a-quote:

We should avoid, not a wounded life, says John Piper, but a wasted life ...

Too often, we can't quite lay hold of the treasure of Christ with both hands because we're still clinging to the baubles of this world ...

Piper again:

What a tragic waste when people turn away from the Calvary road of love and suffering. All the riches of the glory of God in Christ are on that road. All the sweetest fellowship with Jesus is there. All the treasures of assurance. All the ecstasies of joy. All the clearest sightings of eternity. All the noblest camaraderie. All the humblest affections. All the most tender acts of forgiving kindness. All the deepest discoveries of God’s Word. All the most earnest prayers. They are all on the Calvary road where Jesus walks with his people. Take up your cross and follow Jesus. On this road, and this road alone, life is Christ and death is gain. Life on every other road is wasted.

Tim Chester The Ordinary Hero 77, quoting John Piper Don't Waste Your Life 76.

what I'm reading: where else have I to go?

This is one of the saddest and most encouraging things I've read.

It's from Tim Chester's brilliant book (read it! do!) The Ordinary Hero.

In 2007 violence erupted after disputed elections in Kenya. Beth, a Kenyan studying in the UK, and part of The Crowded House, the family of church planting networks to which I belong, emailed me at the time:

This past week I’ve realized that I don’t truly know what God being good, wise, sovereign and faithful means.

I know what it doesn’t mean – it doesn’t mean no suffering in this life. I know that whatever he allows is for his glory and our good. But I also don’t want to be flippant or simply parrot phrases as though I’ve merely learned them by rote.

I talk to my aunt and uncle who are doctors and have hardly slept during the last three days because of the sheer number of people coming in. I want to know what it means to talk to them and then say “God is good”.

Surely any earthly parent would come running at the sound of their baby’s blood-curdling shriek. So I want to be sure I know what I mean by “God is good” when we have prayed and prayed to the soundtrack of the screams of children being burnt, knowing that the stench is getting to heaven and silence is the response.

When I watch on live television people being dragged out of cars and hacked to death, my mind spins – and not because I have wondered if God is sovereign, but because I know he is ...

Life as I’ve known it has changed and will never be the way it was. And a huge chunk of me grieves … I’m not losing faith, for where else have I to go? Whom else have I in heaven but him?

I read through Job today in one sitting and realized that Job had a lot of questions, but God didn’t answer any of them. He only revealed his character and that was enough. Job says, “I had heard of you but now I have seen you.”

And so that’s my prayer: that God would move me from having heard of him to seeing him, and that his comforting, sustaining and sanctifying grace would abound in the gap of hearing and seeing.

Tim Chester The Ordinary Hero 18-19, 22.

what I'm listening to: Mary, Martha, and Jesus

Have you ever wondered what to make of the story of Mary and Martha?

You can skip the next paragraph if you already know it.

Jesus is at Martha's house. Her sister Mary sits at Jesus' feet, listening to what he has to say. Martha is getting hot and bothered in the kitchen. She marches up to Jesus and says, "Lord, don't you care that I'm doing all the work, while Mary just sits there?" Jesus says, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing matters. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her." Luke 10:38-42

Huh? So it's okay for me to do all the work while my sister just sits there? Why is it better for her to sit listening, while I do the serving? Who's going to get all this done if I don't???

Maybe, like me, you feel a little sorry for Martha.

In this brilliant talk by Anna Moss,* she explains that busyness vs. sitting still isn't really the issue. It's that Martha has forgotten who the dinner is all about - who life is all about:

Martha is distracted. She's so distracted that she's forgotten that the dinner is all about Jesus.

She's trying to serve Jesus, but her serving has stopped her even seeing him. It's stopped her relating to him. It's stopped her listening to him.

He's right there in her living room, and she's not seeing him. She's not hearing him.

Instead of being amazed that Jesus, the holy one of God, has come into her home to share a meal with her, she's worried and distracted by sandwiches and dip.

Doesn't that sound familiar? We can be so busy serving Jesus, that we don't even stop to see him:

Maybe you can relate to Martha. You slog away at church, faithfully and consistently, trying to serve, and it just seems that no one notices, or even acknowledges what you're doing. You start feeling resentful, maybe even a bit self-righteous: "I'm the one who's regular and reliable. I'm the one who turns up when others pull out."

Or maybe you persist in your marriage even though it's tough. You work hard with your parents and children. But it feels thankless. You feel unappreciated and overlooked: "Maybe God doesn't care I'm doing all this." Your serving can end up damaging and breaking relationships, rather than blessing and building them.

We end up distracted from Jesus when we try to do it all ourselves.

Have you become distracted? Have you stopped coming to Jesus as the empty, broken person that you are, in daily need of his help and his grace in your life? Have you stopped seeing him as your treasure? As the one that you just can't do without?

It all becomes about me - my schedule, my strength, my achievements - rather than about Jesus:

Sometimes we want to fit Jesus in with our schedule, into where we're comfortable, and into our need to feel competent and in control.

We had our third child last year, and recently I went back to work at my church. I wanted to go back feeling strong and competent, on top of things, and in control. I wanted people to say, "Wow! How do you do it all?". I wanted to serve God from a position of strength; but instead, I felt weak and vulnerable. I didn't want to feel that way.

But let me say this: there is no other way to serve him. He doesn't want us bustling around, self-reliant and self-absorbed. He doesn't want us to give on our terms, in ways that make us look good and feel in control.

When it comes to Jesus, we can't rely on the things we've achieved. We can't rely on our qualifications, or how well our kids are going. We need to respond to him on his terms, not our own. We don't have anything to offer him. We come to him with empty hands.

We don't like to feel needy. But Jesus wants us to receive from him:

It's easy to give people things we want to give them. We want to give Jesus our competency. We want to give him our agenda. We want to show off our abilities.

But what does Jesus want to receive? How does he want to be served? What really communicates our love for him?

He wants to give to us. He wants to determine what's best for our lives. He wants to redirect our hearts, and for us to treasure him more than any plan we've ever made. He wants us to be needy for him.

But being needy doesn't sit comfortably with us most of the time. Personally, I find it easier to stay busy; easier to keep active, and to feel useful.

It's easier to feel needed and useful than to feel needy and broken. It's easier to serve others with our competence, on our terms, in ways that we feel comfortable, than to admit how desperately messy, needy, and weak we really are.

In the end, the story of Martha and Mary isn't really about whether we're busy or not, but about our attitude to Jesus:

You see, at the heart of this story isn't the question, "Are you too busy?". It's a deeper question about our attitude, not so much a question about our activity.

So on the days that you're flat out and really busy; or when you've got time to sit, rest and read your Bible; what matters is that we depend on Jesus. That we choose his agenda, whatever the day. That we choose to trust him, and rely completely on his grace.

When Jesus comes to their house, who's the host? It's not Martha, is it? It's Jesus. It's always his party, not ours. He wants to give, and he wants us to receive.

Martha wants to give him food; but he's the only one who can give the food that really satisfies, the food that will never be taken away. He wants to give us the good portion, the very best of gifts: eternal life.

He wants to set us free from the treadmill of having to achieve and needing to please. He's come to serve.

Our lives are busy, and sometimes we can't avoid this. But even then we can turn to Jesus and receive from him. I was so encouraged by Anna's story of her friend:

We can choose what is better in the midst of all the things going on in our lives.

One of my closest friends is a single mum with four young kids. As you can imagine, there's a whole lot of running around, and not a whole lot of sitting round for her.

She shared with me recently how hard it is to keep trusting Jesus when things just seem so wrong. She often feels overwhelmed, and she wonders how to keep going.

But she said this: "I have to keep trusting Jesus. I've got no where else to go but to him. I have to trust that he's big enough for this. It can be a fight to trust, but I know that he's in control of my life, that he cares for me, and for my children. I often feel so weak, but I'm in his hands."

Things can feel like they're unravelling, but with Jesus, I can keep going. He wants to serve us. He's big enough to give us what we need.

Where else have we to go, but to the feet of Jesus? Choose what is better. Don't miss the mark. Listen to him, and let him serve you.

* This is from Anna Moss's talk from Equip 2013. I highly recommend these talks. I found them very encouraging.

what I'm reading: the smile of God

How do you keep your eyes fixed on Jesus? (Col 3:1-4) Here's one way I do it.

Every year I read one or two books about God's character or the cross. I do this on my mornings off, sitting in a cafe, sipping my spiced chai.

I recently read Knowing God. Finishing the last page was bittersweet. I wondered what I could possibly replace it with.

Then I remembered Tim Chester's The ordinary hero. It's been on my shelf for a while, waiting for an opportunity. I'm 4 chapters in, and loving it.

Here's a bit that spoke to me. It's for anyone who trusts in Jesus:

God doesn't merely tolerate you. In Christ he smiles upon you as a Father ...
 
Why should we think that God would abandon us when he's already given us his Son? Why should we think there's any limit to his love when he's already given what was most precious to him? ...

You're not made right with God by what you do. You don't do it in the first place, so why suppose you could undo it! ... Perhaps this is the ultimate humiliation. Not only can we not contribute to our salvation; we can't even wreck our salvation. But who cares? ...

Our heavenly Father is not a stern father who needs to be placated by his Son. Maybe your human father was like that. Stern. Distant. Maybe you approached him hesitantly or reluctantly. But your divine Father isn't like that. The Son's actions are the outflow of the Father's love. ...

The Son didn't placate God to make him favourably disposed to us. No, it's the other way round. The work of the Son starts with the love of the Father. ...

God doesn't merely tolerate us. He delights in us. We make him sing for joy (Zeph 3:17) ...

When you look into the face of God, what do you see? Do you see a frown? Do you see a judge? A schoolmaster? Or do you see a smile?

In Christ, God smiles upon us. Who can resist that smile?

Tim Chester The ordinary hero 39-46.

it's not about me

A helpful reminder from Staci Eastin that suffering is not just about me.

It makes me nervous when we start surmising apart from Scripture on why God does this to us. I’ve heard many sentences that start with “I think God does this because…” that ended up making us the center of things and not him. ...

God is there where Christians gather in secret for fear of their lives. He’s also there when the nursery staff realizes they’re dealing with a particularly nasty case of rotavirus, and with the Sunday School teacher when the Junior Highers just sit with their arms crossed, scowling at the floor. He’s there when the speaker at the women’s retreat realizes that she’s not only lost her train of thought, she’s lost her place in her notes as well.

Anyone who’s been there comes out of it feeling that he or she knows God just a little bit better, but we’re mistaken when we think it ends with what we’ve learned. It’s about a Holy God, using sinful people to do a thousand little things, but letting those little things add up to a giant demonstration of his wisdom that’s so glorious even the angels are compelled respond with praise that echoes through the universe.

If I try to make that just about me, I make far too little of God.

You can read the rest here.

Jesus is our accountant

Jim Douglass:

I remember sitting with a mortgage salesman who was telling us how quickly we could own our home. I then asked him to do the sums again taking into account the money we wanted to give to church, student ministry, overseas mission and child sponsorship. He then told us we couldn’t afford it!

• Now we are paying our mortgage off at an incredibly slow rate, but we’re supporting our local church.
• Now we only have one car, but we’re supporting university ministries around Australia.
• Now our holidays are fairly simple affairs, but we’re supporting overseas mission.
• Now we’re spending less on restaurants and clothes, but we’re helping the poor in other parts of the world.

Part of me wants more; part of me wants to give my family all the best holidays and experiences. Part of me wants the stuff that other people have.

Recently, my car mechanic gave me the “It’s-getting-old, there’s-not-much-we-can-do” talk. But Vanessa and I agreed that it’s not dead yet.

The truth is I feel the allure of fun family holidays and gadgets and a new car and gadgets and paying off our mortgage and gadgets, but our great accountant helps keep our priorities in perspective.

The gift Jesus gives us is greater than all those things, it’s the gift of contentment and the ability to say no to something good for the sake of something better.

Read the rest here.

the middle mile

Vance Havner:

To most of us, the most important parts of a journey are the start and finish. But the part of a trip that really tests the traveler is neither the beginning nor the end but the middle mile.

Anybody can be enthusiastic at the start. The long road invites you, you are fresh and ready to go. It is easy to sing then. And it is easy to be exuberant at the finish. You may be footsore and weary but you have arrived, the goal is reached, the crown is won. It is not difficult to be happy then.

But on the dreary middle mile when the glory of the start has died away and you are too far from the goal to be inspired by it—on the tedious middle mile when life settles down to a regular routine and monotony-there is the stretch that tires out the traveler.

If you can sing along the middle mile, you've learned one of life's most difficult lessons.

This is true of all life's little journeys. A boy hears a great musician and is inspired to undertake a musical career. Years later, he makes his debut and leaps into fame. Both those milestones, his start and his success, are played up in the papers. You hear nothing about the middle mile when he banged a piano until his ears rang; those dull, drab years when he was so often tempted to give it up and be a nobody. But it was the middle mile that made him, that proved the fabric of his soul. . . .

A boy and girl marry. It is easy to be affectionate those first heavenly days when life is a paradise made for two. Fifty years later they lie in the sunset's glow still in love although time has bent and wrinkled them and silver threads have long since replaced the gold. But it is neither the honeymoon nor the golden wedding that tests the lover. It is the middle stretch, when rent is due and hubby had lost his job and the kids have the whooping cough, that tests the traveler of the matrimonial highway.

A man is converted, "gets religion" we say. It is easy to be spiritual those first great days when the wine of a new affection so intoxicates the soul. A half-century later, he comes to the dark valley and a song is still on his lips and the heavenly vision is still bright within him. But the testing place of his religion was the long middle mile when the enthusiasm of the start had passed and the goal was still far away, when the vision had dimmed a bit and a sense of things real came doubly strong." . . .

So in life as a whole, it is not for fine beginnings and noble resolutions that we suffer most today. And nobody needs advice on how to be happy at the end of the road, for if you have traveled well, the end of the way will care for itself. It is on the intermediate stretch where the rosy start gives way to long desert marches, where the ordinariness of life bears heaviest on the soul-it is there that we need to know how to keep the inner shrine aglow with the heavenly vision. . . .

This grace of the middle mile the Bible calls "patient continuance." It is a wonderful art that few have mastered. It proves, as nothing else can, that character. And it gets least attention from the world because there is nothing very dramatic about it. There is something theatric in a big start or a glorious finish. There is nothing for a news reporter along the middle mile. It is a lonesome mile, for the crowd is whooping'er up for the fellow who got through. It's a hard mile, for it's too far to go back and a long way to go on. But if you can keep a song within and a smile without on this dreariest stretch of life, if you can lean to transform it into a paradise of its own, you have mastered the greatest secret of victorious living, the problem of the middle mile.

 With thanks to Vitamin Z.

what I'm reading: the still point of your turning world

I think this is wonderful:

Many people say, “Sure I believe that Jesus is a great teacher, but I can’t believe what they say about him being God.”

That creates a problem, because his teaching is based on his identity claim. ... He is the One who created the world.

Here is how his historian NT Wright puts it:

How can you live with the terrifying thought that the hurricane has become human, that fire has become flesh, that life itself became life and walked in our midst?

Christianity either means that, or it means nothing. It is either the most devastating disclosure of the deepest reality of the world, or it is a sham, a nonsense, a bit of deceitful playacting.

Most of us, unable to cope with saying either of those things, condemn ourselves to live in the shallow world in between.

In the end, you can’t simply like anybody who makes claims like those of Jesus.

Either he’s a wicked liar or a crazy person and you should have nothing to do with him, or he is who he says he is and your whole life has to revolve around him and you have to throw everything at his feet and say “Command me.”

Or do you live in that misty “world in between” that Wright says no one can live in with integrity? Do you pray to Jesus when you’re in trouble, and otherwise mostly ignore him because you get busy?

Either Jesus can’t hear you because he’s not who he says he is—or if he is who he says he is, he must become the still point of your turning world, the center around which your entire life revolves.

Tim Keller's King's Cross 44-45.

what I'm reading: untameable love

It's all very well knowing that God is in control when you're going through a hard time. Well, actually, it's more than "very well" - it's hugely comforting, because he's our loving, wise Father. But at the same time, it's scary, because he's in control and we're not.

Tim Keller captures this tension perfectly as he reflects on the disciples' reaction to Jesus calming the storm:

Why were they more terrified in the calm than they were in the storm? Because Jesus was as unmanageable as the storm itself.

The storm had immense power - they couldn't control it. Jesus had infinitely more power, so they had even less control over him.

But there's a huge difference. A storm doesn't love you. ... Nature is violent and overwhelming - it's unmanageable power, and it's going to get you sooner or later.

You may say, that's true, but if I go to Jesus, he’s not under my control either. He lets things happen that I don’t understand. He doesn’t do things according to my plan, or in a way that makes sense to me.

But if Jesus is God, then he’s got to be great enough to have some reasons to let you go through things you can’t understand. His power is unbounded, but so are his wisdom and his love. ...

Jesus is filled with untameable love for you. ... He can love somebody and still let bad things happen to them, because He is God – because he knows better than they do. ...

If you have a God great enough and powerful enough to be mad at because he doesn't stop your suffering, you also have a God who's great enough and powerful enough to have reasons that you can't understand. ...

Is he safe? "Of course he's not safe. Who said anything about being safe? But he's good. He's the King."

Tim Keller's King's Cross, 54-55; quote at the end is by CS Lewis.

Charles Spurgeon on depression

Wise words on depression from Charles Spurgeon, who knew what he was talking about:

The strong are not always vigorous, the wise not always ready, the brave not always courageous, and the joyous not always happy.

Such humbling but salutary messages our depressions whisper in our ears; they tell us that we are but men, frail, feeble, apt to faint.

Is any man altogether sane? Are we not all a little off the balance?

Some minds appear to have a gloomy tinge essential to their very individuality. There are precious fruits put forth by the moon as well as by the sun.

Grace has its triumphs still, and patience has its martyrs; martyrs none the less to be honoured because the flames kindle about their spirits rather than their bodies, and their burning is unseen of human eyes.

Be not dismayed by soul-trouble.

Should the power of depression be more than ordinary, think not that all is over with your usefulness.

Cast the burden of the present, along with the sin of the past and the fear of the future, upon the Lord, who forsakes not his saints.

Live by the day—ay, by the hour. Care more for a grain of faith than a ton of excitement.

Trust in God alone, and lean not on the reeds of human help.

Be not surprised when friends fail you: it is a failing world.

Serve God with all your might while the candle is burning, and then when it goes out for a season, you will have the less to regret.

Be content to be nothing, for that is what you are.

When your own emptiness is painfully forced upon your consciousness, chide yourself that you ever dreamed of being full, except in the Lord.

Set small store by present rewards; be grateful for earnests by the way, but look for the recompensing joy hereafter.

Continue, with double earnestness to serve your Lord when no visible result is before you.

Any simpleton can follow the narrow path in the light: faith’s rare wisdom enables us to march on in the dark with infallible accuracy, since she places her hand in that of her Great Guide.

You can read the rest here.

what I'm reading: what are we holding back?

Have you been holding back?

Are you prepared to accept a lower standard of living so you can serve Jesus? Do you trust God to provide - to give you "all good things" as he promised?* Are you ready for a risky, costly life?

Those are the questions JI Packer asks in this uncomfortable quote from Knowing God:

We know what kind of life Christ calls us to ... But do we live it? Well, look at the churches. Observe the shortage of ministers and missionaries, especially men; the luxury goods in Christian homes; the fund-raising problems of Christian societies; the readiness of Christians in all walks of life to grumble about their salaries; the lack of concern for the old and lonely ...

We are unlike the Christians of New Testament times. Our approach to life is conventional and static; theirs was not. ... By being exuberant, unconventional and uninhibited in living by the gospel they turned their world upside down, but you could not accuse us twentieth-century Christians of doing anything like that.

Why are we so different? Why, compared with them, do we appear as no more than halfway Christians? Whence comes the nervous, dithery, take-no-risks mood that mars so much of our discipleship? Why are we not free enough from fear and anxiety to allow ourselves to go full stretch in following Christ?

One reason, it seems, is that in our heart of hearts we are afraid of the consequences of going the whole way into the Christian life:

• We shrink from accepting burdens of responsibility for others because we fear we should not have strength to bear them.
• We shrink from accepting a way of life in which we forfeit material security because we are afraid of being left stranded.
• We shrink from being meek because we are afraid that if we do not stand up for ourselves we shall be trodden down and victimized, and end up among life's casualties and failures.
• We shrink from breaking with social conventions in order to serve Christ because we fear that if we did, the established structure of our life would collapse all around us, leaving us without a footing anywhere.

It is these half-conscious fears, this dread of insecurity, rather than any deliberate refusal to face the cost of following Christ, which makes us hold back. We feel that the risks of out-and-out discipleship are too great for us to take ... We are not persuaded of the adequacy of God to provide ...

Let us call a spade a spade. The name of the game we are playing is unbelief, and Paul's 'He will give us all things' stands as an everlasting rebuke to us. ...

One day we shall see that nothing – literally nothing – which could have increased our eternal happiness has been denied us, and that nothing – literally nothing – that could have reduced that happiness has been left with us. What higher assurance do we want than that?  ...

Have you been holding back from a risky, costly course to which you know in your heart God has called you? Hold back no longer. Your God is faithful ... You will never need more than he can supply, and what he supplies ... will always be enough.

* in Romans 8:32.


Quote is from Knowing God 303-309.

what I'm reading: does God really love me?

I often doubt that God loves me - at least, not with any enthusiasm.

I have a sneaking suspicion he only loves me reluctantly, because he has to (after all, his Son died for me! He's caught now!). I know - it's illogical, and it's a lie. But it's a powerful lie.

Am I alone in this? I doubt it. Am I alone?

Packer suggests my doubts are not uncommon for those of us who are (rightly) taught to view things in terms of justification (God is a judge, his justice satisfied by Jesus' death).

But if God is only a judge whose justice has been satisfied, that can be a pretty cold relationship. 

Packer suggests we've forgotten an equally important truth: that of adoption. He says, "It is a strange fact that the truth of adoption has been little regarded in Christian history." Yet the Bible makes much of it.

When we become Christians, God becomes our Father. He welcomes us into his family. He loves us with the same love he has for his Son!

These words changed my way of seeing:

When you realize that God has taken you from the gutter, so to speak, and made you a son in his own house, your sense of God's "love beyond degree" is more than words can express. ...

The prospect before the adopted children of God is an eternity of love ... We are all loved just as fully as Jesus is loved.

It is like a fairy story - the reigning monarch adopts waifs and strays to make princes of them - but, praise God, it is not a fairy story: it is hard and solid fact ...

Everything Jesus has will some day be shared with us, for it is our inheritance no less than his ...

Do I, as a Christian, understand myself? Do I know my own real identity? My own real destiny? I am a child of God. God is my Father; heaven is my home; every day is one day nearer ...

Say it over and over to yourself first thing in the morning, last thing at night, as you wait for the bus, any time when your mind is free, and ask that you may be enabled to live as one who knows it is all utterly and completely true.

From chapter 19 in Knowing God.

what I'm reading: God will never again know perfect and unmixed happiness until he has brought us home

The love of God is no fitful, fluctuating thing, as human love is. It is a spontaneous determination of God's whole being, an attitude freely chosen and firmly fixed.

God loves creatures who have become unlovely and (one would have thought) unloveable. There was nothing whatever in the objects of his love to call it forth; nothing in us could attract or prompt it.

The love of God is free, spontaneous, unevoked, uncaused. God loves people because he has chosen to love them, and no reason for his love can be given save his own sovereign good pleasure.

Through setting his love on human beings God has voluntarily bound up his own final happiness with theirs. God's happiness will not be complete till all his beloved ones are finally out of trouble.

He has set his love upon particular sinners, and this means that, by his own free voluntary choice, he will not know perfect and unmixed happiness again till he has brought every one of them to heaven.

He has in effect resolved that henceforth for all eternity his happiness shall be conditional upon ours.

Thus God saves, not only for his glory, but also for his gladness.

JI Packer Knowing God 137, 140, 141

what I'm reading: the signal-box, the driver's seat ... and wisdom

Question: What's the difference between watching trains from a signal-box and learning to drive?
Answer: The difference between true and false wisdom.

I'm reading JI Packer's Knowing God, and loving it. Every chapter throws up tasty truths to feed on (that analogy didn't quite work - ugh!).

Here is what Packer has to say about true wisdom. Once again, it's a rebuke to those of us prone to unhealthy introspection, who always try to find the "why?" in everything that happens, who give way to bitterness when we can't understand.

Instead, true wisdom is realistic, sane and strong. It doesn't think too hard about the "why". It trusts God. It gets on with life. It does its work. It enjoys this world. So says Ecclesiastes - and JI Packer:

If you stand at the end of a platform on York station, you can watch a constant succession of engine and train movements. But you will only be able to form a very rough and general idea of the overall plan.

If, however, you are privileged enough to be taken by one of the high-ups into the signal-box, you will be able to look at the whole situation through the eyes of those who control it.

The mistake that is commonly made is to suppose that the gift of wisdom consists in a deepened insight into the providential meaning and purpose of events going on around us.

People feel that if they were really walking close to God, so that he could impart wisdom to them freely, then they would, so to speak, find themselves in the signal-box.

Such people spend much time poring over the book of providence, wondering why God should have allowed this or that to take place.

Christian suffering from depression, physical, mental or spiritual (note, these are three different things!) may drive themselves almost crazy with this kind of futile enquiry. For it is futile: make no mistake about that.

What does it mean for God to give us wisdom?

It is like being taught to drive. You do not ask yourself why the road should narrow or screw itself into a dog-leg wiggle, just where it does, not why that van should be parked where it is, nor why the river in front shoudl hug the crown of the road so lovingly; you simply try to see and do the right thing in the actual situation that presents itself.

To live wisely, you have to be clear-sighted and realistic - ruthlessly so - in looking at life as it is.

Among the seven deadly sins of medieval lore was sloth (acedia) - a state of hard-bitten, joyless apathy of spirit.

Live in the present, and enjoy it thoroughly; present pleasures are God's good gifts. Seek grace to work hard at whatever life calls you to do, and enjoy your work as you do it. Leave to God its issues; let him measure its ultimate worth.

We can trust him and rejoice in him, even when we cannot discern his path.

From chapter 10 of JI Packer Knowing God.