1 Peter 1:3-5

Can you believe the goodness of the good news? Can you believe that we're promised an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading? Never were three more beautiful words spoken. And the fact that Peter was the one who wrote them amazes me. Peter, who denied any relationship to Christ whatsoever while his innocent friend was being tortured. Peter may have been in the best position ever to believe that his inheritance had perished, been defiled, or faded. He must have been sure of it! It is only those who are convinced of their own badness who can perceive the incredible goodness of the good news.

Peter follows up these words with: "In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials" (v. 6). He knows what that week between Jesus' resurrection and Jesus' appearing was like. It was full of suffering. He spent the whole time, I guarantee you, going over and over those three denials in his mind. :I do not know the man! How could I have said that! I don't believe that...what was I thinking?" He must have been sure that Jesus would show up holding the recording. Peter is imagining an eternity spent separated from this man he denied. And yet, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, when Jesus walks into the room that night after He's resurrected, He doesn't even mention it! It's as if Peter's inheritance is...could it be? Imperishable? Undefiled? Unfading? Peter might have started putting these words together in his head that very night.

We are like Peter. We are sure that our relationship with Christ has perished. That it has become defiled. That it has faded. And if our relationship with Christ is based on our performance, we'd be right. Thankfully for us, our relationship with Christ is based on His performance, His fidelity, and His love. Because His love for us is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, so is our connection to Him.

Helping people live life with Jesus everyday,

 

Psalm 42:5

One of the greatest documentaries of the last several years is Murderball, the story of the United States quad rugby team, a Paralympic team of quadriplegics. A fascinating thing to watch in the film is the interplay between physical disability and mental attitude. As you might imagine, the quadriplegics who play murderball (quad rugby's nickname) are some of the most competitive and independent spirits in the world. They would kill themselves before letting anyone take pity on them. One of the players, Mark Zupan, tries to start physical altercations so that he can taunt people for not wanting to hit a wheelchair-bound man. He is trying to call attention to his self-sufficiency and strength in the face of his obvious weakness.

Of course, it's overcompensation. Feelings of weakness (the film begins with a painfully long scene of Zupan simply getting dressed) lead to professions of strength. The truth is, though, that these quadriplegics are suffering - you can see it in their faces. They live their lives in denial of it, in much the same way that we deny much of our suffering. Do we, knowing that Christ came to and for sufferers, wear the thorns in our flesh as badges of honor? It doesn't seem like it. We are more like quad rugby players, keeping our need deep beneath our surface, in the hope that Jesus won't have to come for us at all.

In a profound sense, we are just like Mark Zupan. We're spoiling for a fight. We want to be able to stand before Jesus and say, "Lord, You know we're not perfect! Look, we've suffered. Our family is broken, our self-esteem is low, we're confined to a wheelchair. It was a long, tough road, and we're a little woozy. But the important thing is, here we are." We want to think we made it ourselves. The truth is, we can't. We need Jesus.

Perhaps your life has made you aware that you're not making it. Today, remember that, though you may not be okay, Jesus gave His all for you and you are deeply loved.

-- Helping people live life with Jesus everyday,


 

1 Peter 5:8

In 2013, you couldn't search the name "Chris Tang" anywhere on the Internet without finding an attendant mention of Jeremy Lin. At the time, Tang was a Chinese American player at Virginia's Oak Hill Academy, a school famous for producing NBA talent such as Kevin Durant, Carmelo Anthony, and Rajon Rondo. he worked in total obscurity until those magical nights in the winter of 2011-2012 when "linsanity" struck New York, Tang was then labeled, for better or worse, "the next Jeremy Lin."

For the rest of his basketball life, Tang will likely be required to labor under the "next" banner. He can never just be Chris Tang, as long as There's a Jeremy Lin.

This reminds me of Peter's description of the Devil: "like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devout" (v. 8). The law of "be the next Jeremy Lin" has devoured Chris Tang, and it will continue to devour Chris Tang until he eventually surpasses Lin. But the law will not then be satisfied. It never is. It will merely morph into "be the next Chris Tang." The law is a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour.

But whence this lion? This can't be an infinite regression. It must have begun somewhere. Long ago, someone was the first "one you've got to be like." In basketball, it was perhaps George Mikan, the first "unstoppable force." In the world? It was God.

The reason that we all experience an irresistible desire for perfection is that God is actually perfect. His law is a reflection of that. Then the Devil comes like a lion to accuse us and to proclaim - rightly - that we in deserve condemnation.

There is, unfortunately, no cure for the law. As Martin Luther famously said, the quest for glory can never be satisfied; it can only be exterminated. And this is precisely what Jesus does with that roaring lion, Satan. He shuts his mouth, crushes him to death, and throws him into his own fire.

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Helping people live life with Jesus everyday,

 

Ezekiel 36:26

This is how we imagine the relationship between our hearts, our wills, and our minds work: Your mind makes a decision - for instance, "I want to be in better shape." Then your will has to get involved: "I will wake up early every morning, go to the gym, and work out." It's not pleasant, so you've got to invoke the old willpower, right? And then if everything goes as planned, your heart comes around eventually: "I love working out!" So in a nutshell, we act as if the way things work is: what the mind chooses, the will works for, and the heart...well, the heart will catch up. Sound about right? That's how we live. The only problem is, about 95 percent of the time, our hearts never come around.

The things we hate to do to improve ourselves usually remain intolerable burdens. This is why so many people have bought and cancelled dozens of gym memberships over the years: they don't actually fall in love with the gym the way they thought they would. The reason is the above order of things isn't at all accurate. Here's how it really works: what the heart desires, the will chooses, and the mind justifies. We all follow our hearts and then make excuses later. Paul gave this truth words when he said he did things he didn't want to do and didn't do things he wanted to do. It was his mind losing to his sinful heart.

English theologian Thomas Cranmer wrote a prayer that is perfect for today: Almighty God, you alone can bring into order the unruly wills and affections of sinners: Grant your people grace to love what you command and desire what you promise; that, among the swift and varied changes of the world, our hearts may surely there be fixed where true joys are to be found; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen

Today, remember that God has given you a new heart, permanently aligned with His.

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Helping people live life with Jesus everyday,

 

John 11:25-26

Jesus got word that a good friend was dying. Though He was a good ways away, Jesus told His disciples that the illness "is not to death" and that it was actually for God's glory. He waited with His disciples for two days before he even began the journey to see His friend. When He got there, not only was Lazarus dead, but he'd been dead for four days. In Jesus' time, people who weren't dead were declared dead all the time. After a while, they learned to wait a little before burying someone. Even as recently as the Victorian Age in England, being buried alive was so common that people were often buried with shovels, so it's not for nothing that John noted that Lazarus had been dead for four days.

Lazarus' resurrection was not just another healing. John's gospel systematically escalates Jesus' interaction with mankind. First, He baptized and preached, then He healed the sick, then He raised the dead. But we don't understand. We're like Martha, who could be paraphrased as having said, "Lord, if you'd gotten here sooner, my brother wouldn't have died." We want a Jesus who heals the sick because we don't trust Him to raise the dead. Mary and Martha thought that as long as they could get Jesus involved before things got too out of hand, everything would be okay.

Jesus is out to prove one thing: even death is "not to death." Not to Jesus. Jesus has something serious in mind. When Martha came to Jesus, He said, "I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die" (John 11:25). If we're honest with ourselves, Paul's description of us in Romans 3 is dead on: ruin and misery mark our ways. We're more than sick - we;re falling apart. Actually, it's even more than that. We're dead. Jesus Christ is a God who does something so much better than heal the sick. He raises the dead to new life.

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Helping people live life with Jesus everyday,

 

Philippians 2:12

There is no question that Christians are to "work out our salvation with fear and trembling" (Philippians 2:12) and that the sanctification process will be both bloody and sweaty. Daily Christian living is daily Christian dying. Jesus likened the pain of Christian growth in godliness requires parting with things we initially think we can't do without.

There does seem to be some question, though, about the nature and direction of our efforts. And at the heart of this question is the relationship between justification and sanctification.

Some think that justification is just the first rung on the sanctification ladder, and that as you climb up and up, you never need to think about that "first step" again. Sanctification, in other words, is commonly understood as progress beyond the initial step of Justification. But while Justification and sanctification are to be clearly separated theologically, the Bible won't allow us to separate them functionally.

In her book Because He Loves Me, Elyse Fitzpatrick rightly says: One reason we don't grow in ordinary, grateful obedience as we should is that we've got amnesia; we've forgotten that we were cleansed from our sins. In other words...ongoing failure in sanctification...is the direct result of failing to remember God's love for us in the gospel...If we fail to remember our justification, redemption, and reconciliation, we'll struggle in our sanctification.

In other words, remembering, revisiting, and rediscovering the reality of our justification every day is the hard work we're called to do if we're going to grow. When Paul says to "work out your salvation with fear and trembling," he's making it clear that we've got work to do - but what exactly is the work? He goes on to explain: "For it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for His good purpose" (v. 13).

Sanctification, as someone once put it, is not something added to justification. It is rather, the justified life.

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Helping people live life with Jesus everyday,

 

1 Corinthians 15:36

John Brzenk (icon of the documentary Pulling John) became the world arm wrestling champion in 1983 and didn't lose an arm wrestling match for the next twenty-five years. Pulling John follows his decision about whether or not to retire as he approaches the age forty. The main story line of the film, though, is the collision course of Alexey Voyevoda (a demure Russian giant) and Travis Bagent (a bombastic American braggart), two young challengers to Brzenk's throne. Both men revere Brzenk and understand that they must each go through the other to get to Brzenk's level.

At the world championships in 2003, Voyevoda and Bagent met in the super heavyweight final. In a huge upset, Bagent soundly defeated the heavily favored Voyevoda. If you're familiar with stories like this, you know what happened next. Bagent got even cockier, while Voyevoda went back to Russia to work out. It's during these Russian post-loss scenes that Voyevoda discusses losing, what it means to him, and how acceptance of the loss can bring greater strength. At a critical point, one of his coaches says, "If you're strong, losing can make you stronger."

It is only from deaths that new lives are born. Voyevoda begins to know himself as someone who can lose, and, through that knowledge, gain strength. When he meets Bagent again, with the winner to face Brzenk, it's not close.

Martin Luther said that the cross was the end of us. Losing to Bagent was the end of the invincible Alexy Voyevoda. A new life was created. It was this new creation that dominated Bagent and moved on to face Brzenk.

It is when we are shown our need, which happens exclusively against our will, that we reach out for a Savior. Let us recognize that need today.

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Helping people live life with Jesus everyday,