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the cost of forgiveness

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Tim Keller likens our typical Christian approach to forgiveness as a type of “therapeutically- motivated culture” of forgiveness. We forgive in order to feel better – to attain inner peace – and so to also ensure forgiveness from God. Without embracing the reality of what forgiveness costs, we tend to take action for personal relief, healing, and mental rest. However, how often do we count the actual cost of forgiveness? Truly? We feel that cost deep, deep down, but we struggle to articulate the negative feelings because it doesn’t always sound Christlike and selfless. It can sound very self-preserving and, perhaps, angry.

Our Christian faith sets us apart from other religions in that we are called to forgive, and to extend love and grace, even in the face of hostility. However, we often fall short in our approach to true forgiveness. We tend to stay on the superficial level of releasing our wounds from others in order to feel better. But that is not the full picture of forgiveness. That is only a part of the process of forgiveness.

In his breakdown of the story of the wicked servant found in the book of Matthew, Tim Keller writes this in his book “Forgive”:

The request by the servant for “patience” – makrothumeo, a Greek word that literally means ‘to be slow to boil or melt’ – hints at the cost of forgiveness. The older English translation for makrothumeo was ‘long-suffering’. Patience is the ability to bear suffering rather than give in to it. To forgive someone’s debt to you is to absorb the debt yourself. If a friend borrows your car, totals it through reckless driving, and hasn’t any ability to remunerate you financially, you may say, “I forgive you,” but the price of the wrong does not evaporate into the air. You either find the money to buy a new car or you go without one. Either way, forgiveness means the cost of the wrong moves from the perpetrator to you, and you bear it.

Forgiveness, then, is a form of voluntary suffering. In forgiving, rather than retaliation, you make a choice to bear the cost.

True forgiveness is bearing the cost.

Jesus’ example to us of bearing the cost is the price he paid on the cross. Forgiveness is identifying with Christ’s sacrifice. We, thankfully, will never know the pain and suffering he experienced as he took on the sin of the world and paid the debt (our debt) of sin and evil. There is no earthly experience, not even the worst we can imagine, that can compare to the experience of Christ’s death on the cross. It was more than the physical act of suffering. It was the separation from God and the weight of sin. It is more than any of us could ever bear, and he voluntarily suffered on our behalf.

Christ is our example.

I find it fascinating that Christ, as he was praying in the Garden of Gethsemane prior to his arrest, requested that God would “take this cup” from him.

“Abba, Father,” he said, “everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” Mark 14:36

In his human form, he sought some relief from the price to pay. He cried out to God, “everything is possible for you (God, find another way to do this), please take it away.” But then he committed his will to God and stated, “Not my will, but yours be done.”

What this says to me is that when we feel that pang of hurt, grief, and hesitation to forgive the one who has wronged us, we are not feeling bad or non-Christian-like feelings. We are feeling very real and normal feelings. Who truly relishes in voluntary suffering?

And yet…in spite of the cost, Christ submitted himself to the will of God. Quite bluntly, if we want to follow after Christ- to identify with him in every way- then we, too, must surrender. We must choose to suffer and bear the cost.

This, I believe, is why forgiveness – true forgiveness – is so hard. I recognize this process is often missing in our Christian worldview. We seek, as even the world does, for inner healing and the personal satisfaction that comes from “letting go”, but there comes a point when this kind of forgiveness just isn’t enough or isn’t working for us anymore. We are seeing the ramifications of this approach in our world today. It is not enough to simply say “forgive and let go.” I believe this is due to the fact that that cost must be counted. We must allow ourselves permission to identify and accept what forgiveness is costing us.

But if we stop here we are still cutting the process of forgiveness short. There is more. We must look upward. We must look to Jesus.

It is when we do this that we also recognize forgiveness cannot take place without the supernatural grace extended to us through Jesus Christ. We cannot bear the cost without that. We are too human and too selfish. True forgiveness requires both the recognition of the cost and the dependence upon Christ’s supernatural empowerment to then bear the cost.

For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.”

The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs – heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.

Romans 8:14-17

When we choose this voluntary suffering, we are sharing in Christ’s sufferings. Much of the work is internal as we choose to release our pain and our hurt into the hands of Jesus. And oftentimes this internal work is never known. Not very often do we see the kind of justice that we would prefer. We do this act of forgiving without fanfare and without a cheering squad. But we are not alone; Christ is with us, and he is holding us.

This is not to say that justice should be neglected. But the pursuit of justice without true forgiveness often becomes retaliation, and that should never be our motive.  We need clear discernment between the two.

To conclude my thoughts on the cost of forgiveness, I just want to add one thing. When we truly grasp the depth of Christ’s love for us when he chose to suffer on the cross for the redemption and forgiveness of mankind, it is difficult to stand in our justification of withholding forgiveness from others. I am not excusing the acts done against any person or persons, but I can only speak personally; when I encounter this transformative power of grace, love and forgiveness from God, there is nothing left in me but incredible awe and fear. Not terror or anxiety, but amazement at God’s goodness to me. And, from that goodness, I find my heart more inclined to forgive. It is a process, for sure, but a process that draws us closer to the heart of God, and deeper in identifying with his suffering. This is precious to me.

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am deeply grateful for the price that Christ paid for the forgiveness of my sins. Where I fail, he brings redemption. Where I fall short, he fills in the gaps. And I am thankful for the example he set for me.

While the price of forgiveness almost seems too high at times, he showed us how to do it. And he promises his grace to see us through.

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at the proper time

At the proper time

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Jasper struggles with the concept of time. It is too abstract for him. This challenge is most noticeable when it comes to meals and snacks. He can sit down for breakfast, eat a bowl of oatmeal and fruit, walk away from the table, and five minutes later come to me ready for snack time. I have learned that setting a timer between activities in our morning, afternoon and evening routines helps – to some degree – with keeping him from eating us out of house and home. It also gives him small increments of time to process rather than big chunks of time.

If we didn’t have a schedule, and if there was no structure in our home, Jasper would easily eat his way through the day. He knows he gets to eat five times during the day, but what he cannot seem to put together in his mind is that there is a proper time for each of those meals. And we, his family, will take care to ensure that he is fed at breakfast, lunch and dinner, and the snacks in between. Jasper resists this regularly, but the timer gives him the security that the next mealtime is coming. Jasper’s eye is on the timer and on me. He is waiting, and anticipating, because he knows that as soon as the ring of the timer goes off, I will give him his food.

The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food at the proper time. You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.

Psalm 145:15,16

At the proper time.

A couple of things that I find comforting and encouraging in this verse is that there is a proper time for God’s provision, and he satisfies our desires.

Time is an abstract concept, and Jasper wrestles with comprehending the difference between five minutes and five hours. They are the same in his mind. He gets frustrated much the same way you and I get frustrated when it seems that God’s timing doesn’t make sense. His delays feel like no’s, five minutes feels like five hours, and we want to argue and negotiate our will into God’s heart. But he knows the proper time.

The eyes of all look to you…

What if we were to stop fighting for our time and our way and began to look to Jesus – to set our gaze upon him? Not just today, but tomorrow, and the day after that? What if we were to wait with our eyes on the one who is our Provider and rest knowing that the proper time is coming?

I think we might find more of that peace and rest we are so often longing for. I think that the deep internal work of keeping our eyes on Jesus would shift the trajectory of our desires and our expectation of the outcome.

…and you give them their food at the proper time.

Joel and I would never let Jasper starve. While we don’t give him food on demand, we do provide meals and snacks for him…at the proper time. If he leaves the dinner table hungry it is not because there has been a shortage of food. We supply everything he needs for each and every meal, and it is available to him at the proper time.

God will never forsake us or starve us. He may not give us what we ask for right away, but we can be confident that he will provide for us at the proper time. We can find peace, confidence and assurance in that promise. He knows our needs, and he knows our hearts. He cares for us like a parent cares for a child. He loves us.

You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.

At the proper time God’s hand opens up and graciously satisfies the desires of every living thing.

But here is the thing about desire…

Our desires reveal the intentions of our hearts. Our hearts could be surrendered to God and our desires in alignment with his character, but they may also be clouded with self-seeking ambitions and pride.

Merriam Webster defines desire as: “to long or hope for: to express a wish for”.

We are not always the most impartial when it comes to discerning the true motivations of our hearts. We have to honestly ask ourselves, is what I am longing for, or wishing for, truly God’s best for me? Is this desire in alignment with God’s heart?

It is during that period of waiting on God, keeping our eyes on our Provider, that something incredible happens inside of us. Our hearts become more connected to God’s heart. Our dreams become more focused, and clear, and our desires begin to take on the form of God’s desires. We shed the self-seeking, self-gratifying parts of our wants and start coming into alignment with God’s wants and God’s desires.

I am grateful for the assurance that God is aware of me and that he is prepared to feed me and provide for me. I am thankful for a loving Father whose hand holds what I need, and that he promises to satisfy my desires. Even in the seasons of waiting, I can trust that God is working internally and externally on my behalf, and all that is required of me is to keep my eyes on Him.

That is something to be thankful for.

God is faithful and good…and he satisfies our desires…

At the proper time.

winter is for rest

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I’m grateful.

The beauty of painful seasons and hard things is the gratitude that blossoms in the middle of the chaos.

We don’t see it immediately, or even perhaps feel it, but if our hearts are open and tender and expecting, thankfulness will push its way to the surface at its proper time.

Winter soil is barren, hard, and cold. We don’t see all of the activity going on below the layer of frozen fields and dusty, dry ground. Just like a farmer looking out on a field of nothingness, it seems that, when we look inside, there is an internal void when we’ve hit a hard winter.

We typically use words like “dead” or “barren” when referring to winter.

But what if we were to reframe the way in which we see our winter seasons – how we would describe them?

Instead of looking at winter as a time of death and barrenness- which may be the case as often things do die and there are very few signs of life on the surface- perhaps we can try and view this wilderness time differently? Rather than lifeless, what if we shifted toward a perspective of rest?

Elijah, when he was running from Jezebel, was despondent. He was at his very lowest. Depressed, overwhelmed, weary and burned out, Elijah ran until his body quit on him. He had nothing left. All around him, it looked like a dark winter season. After seeing God do the miraculous, it is difficult to understand this angst. And yet, his despair was unquestionable.

What was God’s response? How did God engage Elijah at this very moment in his life?

Did he chastise him and tell him to get back up on his feet? Did he rebuke him for running away? Did God try to get him worked up into a frenzy with a big “you can do it” speech? Did God ignore or marginalize Elijah?

No.

Rather, like a tender parent to a hurting child, God nurtured and cared for Elijah.

He came to a broom bush, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, Lord,” he said. “Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.” Then he lay down under the bush and fell asleep.

All at once an angel touched him and said, “Get up and eat.” He looked around, and there by his head was some bread baked over hot coals, and a jar of water. He ate and drank and then lay down again.

The angel of the Lord came back a second time and touched him and said, “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.” So he got up and ate and drank.

1 Kings 19:3-8

God fed him. He provided water to drink, and he gave him the gift of sweet sleep. He even sent an angel to care for him. Elijah ate, drank, and slept. The mercy that God extended to Elijah is the same mercy I believe he extends to us when we are in the darkness of a winter season.

Winter seasons are seasons of rest if we allow ourselves to receive it. If we can surrender to the rest, I believe we will find the peace, the resilience…and the gratitude…to move forward.

This is so contradictory to our way of living. We are pushers. We charge straight through in spite of our exhaustion. And when we hit that heaviness of depression or grief or disillusionment, we either hide it away so no one can see it, or we expose ourselves and risk marginalization. We don’t often show each other the kind of grace that God extended to Elijah. We care more about results than the person. Perhaps we fear our own winter seasons are coming, and it drives us to run away…to isolate…to push hard and farther.

But…

God is so gracious.

It is his grace and mercy through these harsh winters that brings me tremendous gratitude.

Simplistically explained, even in its most vulnerable stage of development, a tiny seed germinates into a sprout. The germination process is all done underground, hard at work to produce that initial sign of life.

Underneath the surface of our painful and hard seasons is a process of germination that will eventually produce a sprout. Winter is for rest. While we rest, God is feeding us and providing water for us to drink. We eat, drink, and sleep, and God does the work.

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So he got up and ate and drank. Strengthened by that food, he traveled forty days and forty nights until he reached Horeb, the mountain of God.

1 Kings 19:8

God’s provision of rest and nourishment when we are in those broken and barren seasons gives us the strength to make the next journey and to take the next step forward. After Elijah had rested, and after he had sufficiently been fed and his thirst quenched, he was strong enough for a forty-day and forty-night journey to the mountain of God. I find this nothing short of a beautiful illustration of how sufficient God’s provision and his care is for us. Seasons of rest are not the end of the story. In fact, seasons of rest…those winters in our lives…are the precursor for hearing God’s voice…for approaching the mountain of God. We are not prepared for that next step until we have adequately rested in God’s grace and mercy.

I’m grateful.

Joel and I have been walking through a winter season. It has felt like a long one, too. Typically, we get to enjoy the beauty of fall as the seasons change, but ours has felt more like a swift jump from summer sunshine to the bitter cold of winter, with no pretty foliage to prepare us in between. And while we’ve asked God a number of times “why?”, we are slowly beginning to see that God is even here in the winter. That maybe he is calling us to rest. That perhaps this time is an opportunity to receive his grace and his mercy. I don’t love hard seasons. I’m not crazy. But the older I get, the more I am recognizing that it is through these hard seasons that we encounter God in a deeper and more meaningful way.

This season is producing the small and tender sprouts of thankfulness in our lives.  Thankful, not for pain and hurt and disappointment, but thankful for God’s presence and faithfulness through the pain and hurt and disappointment.

Winter is for rest.

And my heart is overwhelmed with gratitude…for God’s precious hand…for his mercy and grace.

The Lord is faithful to all his promises and loving toward all he has made. The Lord upholds all those who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down. The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food at the proper time. You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.

Psalm 145:13-15

God sheds light

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“Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” John 8:32

God sheds light.

In John chapter 8, Jesus is having a conversation with a group of Jews. They are struggling to comprehend what Jesus is trying to communicate to them, that if they believe in him, the truth will be clear to them because he is the Son of God, sent by the Father. Freedom will come through trust and faith in Christ. But they are wrestling with it. They seem to be steeped in, and blinded by, darkness.

He says: “If you hold to my teaching (teaching that comes directly from God) you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” John 8:31, 32

What this tells me is that if we hold on to the teachings of Christ, if we align ourselves to the Scriptures, if we make that our pursuit and passion, then we are true followers- disciples- of Christ. He calls us his disciples. And through that act of following and obeying, we will know the truth, and the truth will set us free.

The greatest way for us to walk in the light – in freedom – is to walk in step with the Word of God. This requires effort on our part to abide regularly with Christ, and to allow his Word to dictate and direct our path. The minute something begins to bring that all-to-familiar unsettling feeling, we can lean in harder to Jesus and his Word. He always brings clarity.

Psalm 119:105 says: “Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light for my path.”

The Message version says it this way:

“By your words I can see where I’m going; they throw a beam of light on my dark path. I’ve committed myself and I’ll never turn back from living by your righteous order. Everything’s falling apart on me, God; put me together again with your Word.”

“Put me together again with your Word.”

I love that.

When we’ve been through the dark places, when we find ourselves stumbling about in confusion, ambiguity, and brokenness, it is the truth that will shed light and bring freedom. It is always and forever the Word of God that will put us back together again.

When we are falling apart. When we are swimming in grief. We can lean hard into God’s word, conforming our lives to Him and His heart.

There is no guarantee that you and I will never encounter dark and painful seasons. I wish that wasn’t so, but we live in a dark and broken world. The good news is that we do not need to fear it or succumb to it. We can engage the darkness with grace and truth.

Where there is darkness, God sheds light.

Where God is, there is his light.

We can walk in the light.

We can walk in his truth.

And when it seems like we are falling apart we can call out to God who’s word will put us together again.

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Dear Mom of a child who is on the autism spectrum…I just want to say something to you today.

Whether you are on the back-and-forth pendulum swinging from grief to relief with a brand new diagnosis, or if you are still wondering – somewhere in the back of your mind – if there is something more going on with your child outside of the “normal” development milestones…or if you have been wading through all of the highs and lows – the emotionally stressful and the long-awaited win – today I am thinking about you.

I wish we could sit together. Maybe in silence (because silence is oh, so rare in our daily lives). We might have some coffee (or tea, if that’s your preference), eat something super yummy, and possibly scroll through funny memes in order to take our minds off of the heaviness that we so often carry. But most importantly, if you and I could sit together for a bit, if it were for nothing else than just a chance to be with someone who “knows”, I wish we could have that moment of sitting in the “knowing” together.

I have been the bearer of scrutinizing looks, eye rolls, judgmental statements (you know, it baffles me that people actually feel inclined to make a comment to a total stranger, but for some reason they do), and the irritated scowl. In those moments, I have to admit, it really stings. Then I have to move on because Jasper demands my focus, and I can’t waste my time, internally or externally, justifying his behavior. I have to let it go. I have to remind myself that I will, likely, never see some of these individuals ever again, and I have to shake it off.

There is nothing more demoralizing than constantly feeling like you have to explain why your child is still wearing diapers at 5-years-old, or why he is unraveling over something so inconsequential, or why it does no good to come down hard on him when he begins to act out, or why he only eats 5 different foods, or why he’s starting yell because your sweet baby is crying, or why he never stops moving on the airplane and wants to pull down and put back up his tray table over and over again, or why he won’t look at you when you are trying to talk to him, or why I choose which battles I am going to fight extremely carefully, or why I let him have dessert at a restaurant even if he hasn’t finished his food, or why he doesn’t have to stay in his seat for the whole dinnertime, or why I don’t press him to wear a mask, or why he talks over his peers and will not give eye-contact, or why I won’t attend every single event that we get invited to. There is a story and a purpose and reason behind every one of these. And, fellow mom of a child who is on the autism spectrum, what is so incredibly comforting is knowing that you just “know”.

So, here is what I want to tell you – that I so wish we could sit together and do some interactive telling and encouraging with one other -

This child…

These slow down days and deliberate choices…

The non-rat race life with this little boy, or little girl…

This journey of learning and being stretched and refined…

Is a gift.

I have fought so often with thoughts like…

“I wish he was normal!” Or “I am at the end of my emotional rope.” Or “I feel like I’m missing out on something because I’m still way back at the starting blocks with this kid.”

And yet…

This slow down…

This celebration of the little wins along the way…

This life of keen intentionality…

Is a gift.

It’s hard. I know.

But just as you are raising this precious child in the very best way you can, God is raising you.

He is gifting you with treasures like real empathy, true compassion, a non-judgmental spirit, long-suffering, genuine concern with a soft heart and tough skin.

He is working in you, even today, right in this very moment, and that is a gift.

I’m grateful for the countless individuals in my life who have been a tremendous support system for us this past year. I remember talking to another mom, and friend, all the way in Japan – Japan – when we were in the early stages of discovery with Jasper. She never promised to have all the answers, but she listened and encouraged…she “knew”.

From Indiana to Oregon to various countries around the globe, God has gifted me with educators and parents and specialists who have walked alongside me and Joel…who have held us up and let us just “be”.

Jaspers’ diagnosis was a hard cup to swallow, but the gifts that have come through this journey are gifts I would never want to miss out on.

Mom of a child who is on the autism spectrum…I know it may not feel like it right now…this minute…or even tomorrow…but

This child…

Is a gift.

And if you ever need to be around someone who “knows”, please reach out to me.

I would love to sit with you.

Good Friday is not the end

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He didn’t defend himself.

He didn’t try to justify his cause or prove his innocence.

He stood there…silent…like a lamb to the slaughter.

When offered the opportunity to speak into the situation and right the wrongs…clarify his position…he chose to stand in quiet strength.

Pilate, so arrogant in his authoritative role…his title…believed that he held the power of life and death in his hands:

“When Pilate heard this, he was even more afraid, and he went back inside the palace. ‘Where do you come from?’ he asked Jesus, but Jesus gave him no answer. ‘Do you refuse to speak to me?’ Pilate said. ‘Don’t you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?’” John 19:8-10

Jesus’ response spoke of who had, and continues to have, the true authority:

“Jesus answered, ‘You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above.’” John 19:11

Think about that.

Facing his accusers…standing before one who held human power and authority, Jesus did not surrender his identity. He stood firm in his position and made it clear that the only power Pilate had was given to him by God, and at any moment God could take it away. This statement solidified God’s control overall.

“He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.”  Isaiah 53:7

By whose authority do you stand?

In what situation do you find yourself in that demands a statement…some sort of justification or defense?

Have you been accused?

Are you shackled with a heavy and unjust weight?

Are your circumstances beyond what you can bear? Are you weary, worn, pushed to your limit?

In whose hands are you resting?

Who holds the power over life (freedom) and death (captivity) in your situation?

When Jesus responded by saying, “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above”, it wasn’t just a statement directed to Pilate regarding this particular moment in time. It was a declaration that nothing – not one single thing – that happens in this life has power outside of God’s authority.

What this tells me is that whatever circumstances we find ourselves in that cause our hearts to faint and our souls to cry for help, we can stand in assurance and confidence that God stands with us and for us and has the final say.

No earthly vessel has power over us…God’s power determines time, the duration, and the outcome. No sickness, no false accusation, no affliction or loss is outside of God’s sovereignty. He reigns over everything.

He is King over sickness.

He is Lord over every false accusation.

He is Mighty over each sting of affliction and devastating loss.

The silence of Christ…his weary body beaten in humility…seemed to declare nothing of victory…nothing of Lordship.

When it seemed that darkness had won…that death had conquered…Christ’s humble response declaring God’s power and authority was, and remains, the hope that we cling to.

Good Friday was not the end.

Christ standing before Pilate…the angry crowds crying out for his death…the beating and the insults…the cross…his death.

It was not the end.

This is not the end.

Your unimaginable situation…the heaviness you bear…is not the end.

While the world may appear to hold the power of life and death over you…

Remember…it is merely borrowed power.

Good Friday is not the end.

“After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life and be satisfied; by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many, and he will bear their iniquities. Therefore, I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong, because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.”

Isaiah 53:11,12

bruised for us

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It is Holy Week.

I woke up this morning feeling heavy…weighted down.

A sorrow and grief that has been nagging at me seemed to surface in my heart before I even got out of bed.

I felt like God was so far away.

“Where are you, God?”

Have you felt that way before? Have you ever found yourself wondering and wandering in God’s silence?

The rain, pouring down heavy on our roof and drenching every nook and cranny of our city, seemed to echo the heaviness in my heart this morning.

For some odd reason, it seems to make me more attune to the solemnity of this Holy Week.

Surely He has borne our griefs
And carried our sorrows;
Yet we esteemed Him stricken,
Smitten by God, and afflicted.
But He was wounded for our transgressions,
He was bruised for our iniquities;
The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,
And by His stripes we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray;
We have turned, every one, to his own way;
And the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.

Isaiah 53:4-6

Surely, He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows…

Jesus…the weight of the cross…the splintering edge of the wood as it rested on his flesh…bore my grief…carried my sorrows.

He was bruised – crushed – for our iniquities.

I am trying to fathom the depth of such love. All my wrongdoings…my sins…the intentional and unintentional times I fail…for all of those, he was bruised.

Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise Him;
He has put Him to grief.

Isaiah 53:10

It pleased the Lord to bruise Him.

It pleased the Lord.

God did not spare his son.

He was not pleased to see his son suffer, but he was pleased knowing that, through Christ’s sacrifice, the world would know salvation and reconciliation with God.

What strikes me so profoundly is that the weariness I am feeling today…the weightiness of this grief…was carried by Christ as he walked to his death.

The sorrows that I feel…that we feel…were on his mind in every step and every harsh beating that he took.

And Jesus knows, and is acquainted with, the silence of God.

In the heaviness, there is comfort.

In the weariness, there is strength.

In the uncertainty and disappointment, there is hope.

In the grief, there is peace.

He knows our sorrows…he has already carried them.

He knows our pain…he has already felt it.

He knows right where we are…what we are facing…the challenges that are in our hands and the ones coming…he has gone before us.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also abounds through Christ. Now if we are afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation, which is effective for enduring the same sufferings which we also suffer. Or if we are comforted, it is for your consolation and salvation. And our hope for you is steadfast, because we know that as you are partakers of the sufferings, so also you will partake of the consolation.

2 Corinthians 1:3-7

Holy Week.

As I walk through this week…still keenly aware of the weariness of my heart…I walk in Christ’s comfort.

You, as well, may walk in the comfort of the One who was bruised for the very heartache you are feeling right now.

There is no suffering that Christ cannot console.

He has felt every wound and the sting of every pain…every disappointment and every hard and heavy step.

This week leads us to the greatest moment the world has ever known…the hope we have…the reason for our very being.

Redemption…salvation…hope and renewal.

Holy Week reminds us to keep our eyes looking upward…to keep our hearts turned towards him…the One who was bruised for us.

we will not fear

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“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.” Psalms 46:1-3

Trouble comes.

It is inevitable.

On this earth, through these earthly vessels, trouble will enter into our lives.

So much so that we can feel the mountains quake and hear the oceans roar.

Be we do not fear.

The Psalmist says, “we will not fear”.

He doesn’t say, “we don’t need to fear,” or “do not fear”, or “stop fearing”.

He says, “we will not fear”.

When the earth gives way…when our world is shaken to its core and our hearts tremble as the ocean surges…we do not fear.

Because God is our refuge and strength.

We hide in his shadow.

He sustains us and strengthens us.

We are not abandoned to fear and dismay and discouragement and hostility.

We are on solid ground.

He is our ever-present (constant and ongoing) help in times of trouble.

There is no question and no doubt in God’s presence and his strength.

Surrounded by trouble, we are secure.

“The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.” Psalms 46:11

What great assurance!

What peace of mind!

God is with us…he is our fortress.

Trouble will come, but we will not fear.

Christmas hath a darkness

Brighter than the blazing noon,

Christmas hath a chillness

Warmer than the heat of June,

Christmas hath a beauty

Lovelier than the world can show:

For Christmas bringeth Jesus,

Brought for us so low.

Earth, strike up your music,

Birds that sing and bells that ring;

Heaven hath answering music

For all angels soon to sing:

Earth, put on your whitest

Bridal robe of spotless snow:

For Christmas bringeth Jesus

Brought for us so low.

- Christina Rossetti

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The paradox of Christmas.

They were looking for a king in regal attire…riding on a horse, wielding a sword and rescuing the world from political bondage.

But the Messiah came in humility…brought low…poor and simple…to rescue the world from spiritual bondage.

They wanted power.

He offered redemption.

They wanted a Messiah created in their image.

They couldn’t see the very image of God standing right in front of them.

Concerned with tradition and appearance, they missed the moment that peace entered in.

Hope for salvation invaded our world…brought down low for you and me.

In a simple manger…born to simple means…humble and unrecognizable…

“The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not receognize him.” John 1:9, 10

I don’t want to miss it.

The peace of reconciliation with God…the joy of his presence…the hope of the world…a love willing to sacrifice…

May we never miss it.

May our hearts remain in focused anticipation…not deterred by silly doctrines or fantasies.

May we live in an ongoing state of expectation.

He is coming.

Saviour of the world.

Hope for mankind.

Wonderful Counselor.

Mighty God.

Everlasting Father.

Prince of Peace.

The Lord Our Righteousness.

God with us.

The coming of Christ…the arrival and celebration…and the hopeful anticipation of his second coming.

True joy…

I am grateful for the One who was brought down low, who brought salvation into the world…who rescues…saves…sets the broken free…who loves and dwells with mankind.

Our hope.

Our Immanuel.

Merry Christmas!

adore Him – advent 2021

Six years ago, today, Jasper was born.

Six years ago, and I remember it so well.

I remember the very moment the doctor laid him on my chest, fresh and new, warm and soft. I remember looking at him, observing him, unable to take my eyes off of his perfect little face, his thick matte of black hair, and his hands clenched in tiny determined fists. I felt immense adoration for this new person that God had blessed our family with. I was in love.

I’ve been challenged over the course of these past several weeks of Advent to consider what, or whom, I adore. What thing, or what person, holds my heart? Or better yet, what thing or person, is king of my heart? Who do I adore…who do I worship?

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This is week four of Advent…come, let us adore him.

“The days are coming,” declares the Lord, “when I will raise up to David a righteous Branch, a King who will reign wisely and do what is just and right in the land. In his days Judah will be saved and Israel will live in safety. This is the name by which he will be called: The Lord Our Righteousness.” Jeremiah 23:5-6

When the Magi came to King Herod and inquired about “the one who has been born king of the Jews?” (Matthew 2:2), Herod was “disturbed”.

King Herod’s actions after his initial disturbance were truly horrific. He ordered that all boys who were two years old or younger in Bethlehem and its vicinity be put to death. His fierce anger and jealousy wreaked devastation and destruction on the lives of innocent families and communities.

I am not a fan of King Herod. I imagine you are not, either. He is the villain in the Christmas story.

And yet, I wonder how often I behave just like him. I don’t throw out murderous plots or meet out acts of revenge, but I do struggle to relinquish the throne over my life.

“Where is the true King?” That question is the most disturbing question possible to a human heart, since we want at all costs to remain on the throne of our own lives. – Hidden Christmas, by Timothy Keller

This question has troubled me. As a child, I often pictured myself as Mary in the grand drama of the Christmas story, but when I stop and try to answer this question, “Where is the King?” I realize that, more often than not, I am Herod.

I struggle to give God everything.

I struggle to adore him without reservation.

There is always that little something that keeps me from fully surrendering.

It is a battle.

Yet, to truly adore God is to let go of the throne of my life.

And this is a daily act of surrender.

“O come let us adore him.”

To adore him is to be fully devoted to him.

Even now, when I look at Jasper, there is a love – inexplicable – that fills every nook and cranny of my heart. I adore that little boy of mine.

But there is a King who does not beg, demand or force my affections and adoration. He doesn’t push his way onto the throne of my life. He simply waits.

To forfeit my throne to this King only give my heart a greater capacity to love…to forgive…to pour out freely…to worship and adore the true King.

He is the King – The Lord Our Righteousness – who holds my heart in the palm of his hands.

He is the King – Emmanuel, God with us – who abides with me in every circumstance.

He is the King – Christ the Lord – who reigns over my life with wisdom and peace.

And I adore Him.

“For He alone is worthy,

For He alone is worthy,

For He alone is worthy,

Christ, the Lord.”

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