A reflective poem

Justified I Stand 

Once again my heart confound, 

Didst Christ wear that blood-soaked crown, 

And upon his righteous life laid down, 

Was it I that was there found

To wear his righteous gown? 

Surely it is not I, 

By the law a wretch condemned to die! 

Yet with faith the gift of which I cry, 

“Not by works shall I try

to appease the God of earth and sky.” 

Within thy word is revealed

Once again that balm that healed, 

Upon my heart the layers peeled

Till once again my heart hath feeled, 

The justifying grace before concealed. 

Yes, guilty I before the Judge did stand, 

But God’s wrath for me on Christ did land, 

And from his Father the nail that pierced his hand

Has brought redemption through this Son of Man; 

Here now by faith in him, justified I stand. 

Luther really did recant

Reading Martin Luther’s biography, Here I Stand, by Roland Bainton, has opened my eyes this week to see that the great reformer did indeed recant… just not in the way you’d suppose. This is classic Luther which, for me, makes for a long few minutes laughing in my chair. 

“I was wrong, I admit it, when I said that indulgences were the “pious defrauding of the faithful.” I recant and say, “Indulgences are the most impious frauds and imposters of the most rascally pontiffs, by which they deceive the souls and destroy the goods of the faithful” (p. 127-28). 

And once again: 

“I was wrong. I retract the statement that certain articles of John Hus are evangelical. I say now, “Not some but all the articles of John Hus were condemned by Antichrist and his apostles in the synagogue of Satan.” And to your face, most holy Vicar of God, I say freely that all the condemned articles of John Hus are evangelical and Christian, and yours are downright impious and diabolical” (p. 128).

By the way, this type of apology, or recantation, if you will, with your wife never works.

Hope: the best of things

After a day of soul searching, I found myself alone tonight, watching The Shawshank Redemption. And I found myself, though for different reasons, identifying more with Red, a petrified dinosaur of the prison, who tells Andy amidst his dreaming, “Andy, hope is a dangerous thing. You gotta stop doing this to yourself.” 

Despite the strong words, Andy goes on hoping. He even gives Red something to hope for himself. The last 30 minutes of the movie capture Red’s progression well: after rejecting the possibility of hope, he strolls down the beach himself, uttering these, the final words of the film, “I hope I see my friend. I hope…” 

Andy’s words, likewise, paint an interesting picture: “Red, hope is a good thing. Maybe the best of things.” I think there’s a lot to learn from the message of the film (though not from the profanities strewn throughout the movie). 

HOPE IS A GOOD THING. MAYBE THE BEST OF THINGS. 

As a Christian, the hope is so much greater than freedom, a hotel in Mexico, watching justice unfold, or seeing an old friend. Despite the suffering we must face in this life, Jesus the Christ tells us there is a coming day, for those who are born into his kingdom, when we will know the joy of being in the presence of the most breathtaking, divine, beautiful, loving being that can ever be (Jn. 14:2). We are going home to see our Father. 

The last few days I have groaned inwardly, looking at my life and feeling the emptiness of having many good things and yet not having what really fills my heart and soul with life and joy. It’s the feeling that there’s got to be more. And there is. 

Only the hope God offers isn’t like the kind Andy offers. Andy’s is the “I hope I see you again, but I’m not sure at all that I will. I hope I see my friend, and get out of prison, but I can’t be certain.” The hope God offers in Jesus Christ is absolute certainty that we will be with him in paradise. When God speaks, things come into existence and go out. And when he promises to see us again, it happens.

“So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you” (Jn. 14:22). Hope in Jesus Christ is the best of things.

The Death of the Family

Reading Al Mohler’s blog this morning has made me even more indignantly passionate about God’s view of families and children—even more than I was recently on a grocery trip to the local supermarket. 

As my wife and I walked down the produce aisle with our 15-month old son and the 7-month old girl that my wife watches during the week, a lady came up and asked, flabbergasted: “Are these both yours?” 

I looked around to see if there were any more children trailing behind us, and then thought, “Both? Lady, there’s only two of them!” I can sort of expect that comment if we had 8 or 9 kids, but two? It has solidified for me in a more personal way how diametrically opposed to Scripture our culture’s view of children really is. As I told my wife, that attitude is no different than Pharaoh or Herod in trying to kill infants who will be raised to worship God.

Christ in the Wilderness

As I ponder what it means to walk through wildernesses of suffering in my own life, I was reflecting on Deuteronomy 2:7 this afternoon: 

For the LORD your God has blessed you in all the work of your hands. He knows your going through the great wilderness. These forty years the LORD your God has been with you. You have lacked nothing.

What God said to the people of God then, and to us now in our present trials: 

1) I know everything you’re going through. 

2) I am blessing you in your sufferings, even though you either overlook it or can’t see it. 

3) I am with you at every turn, with every step, and in every trial. 

4) I have given you all that you need; you have lacked nothing in your trials.

The Meaning of Water Walking

In this sermon, Jonathan Pennington not only preaches from Mark 6:45-52, but he details the way we are to read the gospels as narratives. An excellent sermon and expose of other problematic ways of preaching gospel narratives.

more about “The Meaning of Water Walking“, posted with vodpod