Sharing in God's Joy (10/28/24-10/29/24)

Our passage begins with what feels a rather curious turn of phrase.  “I rejoiced in the Lord.”  So, the first thing we notice here is that this is being spoken of as something already done.  It’s not that open-ended present tense, but rather, the aorist.  Given that in some respects this is a sort of thank you letter, that makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?  I received what you sent, and I rejoiced.  But it’s not because of having received.  And much of this passage will go toward making this point.  No, I didn’t rejoice in the gift.  I rejoiced in the Lord!  But what does that mean?  Does that simply mean that he carefully turned his appreciative thoughts away from them, and from their action on his behalf, and unto God as the prime mover?  That’s certainly something we may be familiar with in how folks deal with praises or appreciations directed at them.  Oh, it wasn’t me, it was God.  I have to say that such things often leave me questioning the veracity of the claim.  It feels too much like a sort of humble brag.  Seems to me that this recognition of God as the proper focus of appreciation is rather like character:  A condition of being that doesn’t really need to advertise.

But some of our translations, at least, hint at a different direction to Paul’s meaning here.  Weymouth, for example, offers this.  “I rejoice with a deep and holy joy.”  I’m not sure how much that shifts the sense of things for us, but it begins to direct attention away from the deed and onto the response.  What do I mean?  Well, let me offer a different perspective on rejoicing.  Usually, I zero in on that definition of rejoicing as calm delight, which quite likely simply reflects how that resonates with my general demeaner.  But Zhodiates offers another sense of the term, that it is a matter of rejoicing as a direct result of God’s grace.  So, yes, it’s rejoicing in what God has done.  But I think it moves beyond even that, and in this case, even accepting that God had moved upon the hearts of the Philippians to bring about this gift of support, I get the sense that what Paul is trying to express is that the joy he feels is that which the Lord Himself feels at seeing their desire to serve His servants in this fashion.

So, perhaps I might bend Zhodiates’ description just a bit and suggest that, particularly with this appended, ‘in the Lord,’ what Paul is indicating is a rejoicing as a direct expression of God’s own rejoicing.  Now, I’m sure some theologian somewhere would incline to disallow the suggestion on the basis that God is not so emotionally driven, that He doesn’t deal in feelings as we do.  I suspect, if such a theologian is to be found, he will be found to be wrong.  God often declares Himself as having emotions.  You may write that off as making Himself comprehensible to poor, emotional man.  But then, poor, emotional man is made in His image.  And in His Truine wholeness, does He not experience those emotions that attend upon fellowship so intimate?  If there is wrath against sin, must that not have its emotional component.  If He is love, while His love is assuredly something distinct from that which the world purveys, is there not yet an emotional aspect to it?  What would love be, stripped of emotion?  No.  God, I dare say, has experience of rejoicing, of deep and heartfelt rejoicing.  When His Son rose victorious from the grave, not merely restored but established as deserving of the throne which has been His from all eternity, do you not think He rejoiced?  When Scripture speaks of rejoicing in heaven over the rescue of one sinner, note how Jesus describes it.  “I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God” (Lk 15:10).  The ESV speaks of that joy as ‘before the angels.’  They may share in that joy, but it is fundamentally before them, something they can see.  And where are they to see it, if not in God Himself?

This, I do believe, is where Paul is coming from.  I feel God’s joy over your expression of concern and support for me in my distress, and I join with Him in it.  The joy I feel is not just at my relief, nor even at your care for my situation.  The joy I feel is God’s own joy that you, though moved by His Spirit, are moved willingly.  You are not as those who must be pushed into action, or whose deeds must be constrained and herded towards His desired end.  You have joyfully entered into His service, joyfully taken up the good work prepared beforehand for your doing.  You have participated gladly, willingly, not with resentment.  You have been joyful givers, and as we know, God loves a cheerful giver.

This rejoicing, then, is not over benefit received, but rather over growth perceived.  Like any good parent, this is the stuff that makes God proud of His children.  And it ought to be the stuff that makes us proud of our brethren.  When we observe clear evidence of our brother’s or sister’s spiritual growth, it ought to cause us to rejoice.  It may not present in clapping one another on the back, acting the cheerleader to Team Jesus, or something of that sort.  It may be, to go back to my usual definition, calm delight in seeing God at work in my brother, in my sister.  In some cases, we may be privy to former conditions with that brother or sister, such that we have a sense of just how much has been overcome for them to have arrived at this point.  For others, it may be that what we see in them is more in keeping with what Paul was urging earlier, evidence of being such as we can look to as an example to emulate in our own turn.  Is it not cause for rejoicing when we come across one whom we can look to as a mentor?

I remember how greatly I appreciated Dennis and his mentorship back when I was first come to faith.  There have been others, but he has always struck me as the most lasting example, the most impactful.  And I recall, as well, how deep was the hurt when circumstances led to him departing the church to which we belonged, and that mentorship came to so abrupt an end.  But mentors have their limits, and if we come to depend on them rather than the Lord, the wise mentor must indeed remove himself from the picture.  More, I think God removes the mentor from the picture, lest they stunt our growth.  But I also would have to confess I rather miss having such a mentor in my life.  It’s not really a role our spouses can fill.  Theirs is a different relationship.  Sometimes, we simply need the counsel of a brother for a brother, a sister for a sister.  And in every case, I think, we can and should benefit from the encouragement of growth that comes of sharing time with a valuable mentor.

To be sure, we ought to be growing into such a role ourselves, serving as counsel to those who are coming up after us.  But I find, as the years accumulate, that it becomes more difficult to find such mentors.  I think – and it may be thinking wrongly, I confess – that having served a season as elder, the field of those whom I could entrust spiritual concerns is much reduced, primarily to those who were fellow elders alongside me.  And that’s a small pool from which to draw.  Perhaps it’s simply a matter of growth, such as we are celebrating here in this passage.  You have matured to the point that you are more mentor than mentee, or ought to be, at any rate.  But even so, it can be lonely in this condition.

I can begin somewhat to imagine how Paul must have felt.  Who, after all, was he to look to for guidance?  Who, apart from God Himself, could he turn to?  Where was the example for his encouragement in growth?  Even amongst the other Apostles, he would be hard-pressed to find such a source.  Peter?  It’s clear that they had some interactions, but Paul seems to have been the counselor far more than the counseled in those interactions.  And Peter himself observes his own challenges in fully understanding what Paul declares.  It’s not a question of differing beliefs, and it’s not that Peter is stupid or slow.  It’s just that Paul is at another level, having come at faith on a much different course.  Yes, there are vast differences in education between the two, but there is one Spirit, one Tutor.  And Peter does understand what Paul teaches, understands it quite well.  But he also understands that many get too wrapped up in trying to prove their own points by his writing, rather than seeking to perceive what he’s really saying.

I have little reason to doubt that I fall prone to the same thing.  As much as I seek to avoid reading my prefabricated opinions into the text, opinions are sneaky things.  They influence perception far more than we like to suppose.  Yet, God brings the growth.  He brings these things to awareness in order that we may address them.  He turns these studies of mine in directions I had not thought to travel, and I, if I wish to be wise, would do well to recognize that He doesn’t do so for His amusement, but for my growth.

In light of that, this diversion (from my perspective) into matters of mentorship is telling.  Lord, show me where You are calling me to action in this regard.  I confess that by and large I feel rather unfit to be mentor to anybody.  I’ve got so much work needs doing on my own character.  But if You have in mind that I should give of my time and understanding in such fashion, show me that one You would have me to counsel.  And if You should be so inclined as to provide such mentorship for me, let me likewise perceive that one You would have me to learn from.  And in all of this, given my present condition, grant that I might pursue what You would have me to pursue without being resentful of the time commitment.  To that, I must also add, let it be such that my beloved wife does not suffer a feeling of being tossed to the side, as it were.  You know her heart, and you know mine.  You know our distinct paths, and You know, somehow, how to knit us together more closely in spite of those distinct paths.  Heal the wounds of difference, Father, redeem our time, that we may indeed enjoy more than our exhausted sleep together.  She is, after all, bone of my bone and heart of my heart.

Before we move on, I would consider two reasons to rejoice that are found here.  The first is most directly in view.  When we perceive growth in our fellow believers, there is cause to rejoice.  This rejoicing is first and foremost because in their growth we see evidence of our God at work.  Even as there is rejoicing in heaven at one sinner being saved, just so as that redeemed sinner makes real progress in sanctification.  And through it all, this rejoicing is in the Lord both because He Himself rejoices to see the result, and because that result is due to His working.  Over and over again we are reminded of this, lest any man boast of anything other than the Lord.  Even belief itself, we are reminded has come about as a gift of God’s grace.

So, here, as Paul takes pains to make clear, the reason for his rejoicing is not personal benefit.  It’s not the size of their contribution, nor even the benefit that comes his way for having Epaphroditus with him to help.  The thing that gives him reason to rejoice is their evident faith, and a faith not consisting solely in acceding to the evidence, but acting upon belief.  It is an active faith, a lively faith, and as such, clearly a salvific faith.

We need to have this same perspective.  We are not in a contest one with another.  The gains our brother or sister make do not somehow set us back as if this were some zero sum game.  As they grow, all gain.  As we grow, all gain.  For, where faith is growing, faith is acting, and where faith is acting, the kingdom of God is advancing, and where the kingdom of God is advancing, all God’s people benefit by a greater experience of His nearness and His goodness.

Now, it is not directly to be observed here, although I think I can support it by the call we had back in verse 4:  Rejoice in the Lord always!  Again I say, rejoice!  Where is their cause for rejoicing?  It, too, is in the Lord.  It, too, is centered on His working in them, growing them, knitting them together in holy community.  Here, I come back to the wonder of this Christian life.  God, who has no needs, certainly not of us, has given us a part in His work.  I cannot revisit this thought enough.  God does not need our cooperation.  God is not helped by our works.  But He is pleased to have us working alongside Him in what He is doing.  He is pleased to provide us with a purpose.

You know, it’s often asked why God doesn’t just save us and immediately bring us home to be with Him.  We may have related questions as to why good works are so called for if in fact the whole work of salvation and sanctification is His work start to finish.  What’s the point?  Why should I get worked up about good works?  I’m saved anyway, right?  Or, if good works are such a big deal, then surely, my outcome in Christ must depend on my doing them, right?  If I fail, lives could be at stake!  Oh!  How important that can make us feel!  God is depending on me.  If I fail, His purposes might fail.  And the moment we hit that point, we ought to realize just how ridiculous the whole premise is.  God failing?  Sorry.  That doesn’t happen.  God all-wise staking His plans on your perfect obedience, or on mine?  That would be an abandonment of wisdom, wouldn’t it?  That would be God necessarily being not-God, and that simply cannot be.

Beloved, these good works, things God has had in place since before the beginning, even as our salvation was in place, the time and the means already fully sorted, before the first moment of creation, were not set in motion because without them, everything falls apart.  They were not left to chance.  Chance, as R.C. Sproul so often reminded, has no power, no causal effect.  Chance, in the ultimate sense, quite simply does not exist at all.  It’s shockingly hard to live a life fully cognizant of that point, but it’s true.  God ordains.  God orchestrates.  God sets the course, even for Satan, yet in a mystery yet to be revealed, does so in such fashion as leaves Him untouched by sin and wholly innocent of its production.  So, what’s the point, then?

I think we find some sense of the point in what we see happening where the mentality of the welfare state has taken hold.  If we look at the lives of those who are more or less being paid to exist, who are not called to contribute something to society in return, we get a glimpse of what this business of faith would look like if there were not personal involvement in the exercise.  What we witness is not a people satisfied to just be.  There is unrest.  There is anger and resentment, even.  There is something in us, something I would insist that has been set there by God Himself as part of our design, which needs to be useful, longs to be needed.  If I’m just here consuming goods and doing nothing, I know I am not useful.  I know I am a drag on society.  Somewhere, at some level, I know this.  And I know it’s not right.  And that which has made such a life possible also tends to make escaping such a life impossible.  Welfare programs, as it turns out, rarely have your welfare in view as their primary concern.  Far more, they are concerned with their own welfare, and if they solve your problem, well!  They’ve created their own, because ending welfare would mean they are out of a job.  Then what?

Okay, I’m drifting into political thought, and need to drift right back out.  I’m concerned with spiritual health.  Our soul knows its worth.  Even in our worst, most sin-stained condition, our soul knows its worth, and recognizes that present circumstance is hardly reflective of that worth.  So, as we come out of our sinful past into this renewed present, there is a longing in us to be of use to our Savior.  Knowing all that He has done for us, there is a desire to give back in some way.  But what am I going to give God?  What do I have that He didn’t give in the first place?  What do you bring as gift to the One Who truly has everything, and has it in full?

God understands this of us.  After all, He designed us.  He made us this way.  And so, in this process of sanctification, He reminds us often that the result is wholly on Him, His work in us.  Yet, He calls us to take part.  He gives us a part!  He does not leave us to some passive, bored, and frustrated experience of living on spiritual handouts.  He calls us into service.  He honors us with the opportunity to come alongside, to be part of what He is doing.  And having a share in what He is doing has this bang on effect:  We have a share in His joy.  His joy is our joy, because His accomplishment is now our accomplishment as well.  Glory to His name!  May we find ample cause, this day, to rejoice in what God is doing in and through us.  And if we cannot find such cause, let us pray that He will so move upon us that we seek our purpose, seek those occasions to work with Him, not directing Him to our ends, but seeing what He is doing and learning to do likewise.

Habitual Morality (10/29/24)

I want to start nibbling at the core of this part of Paul’s message.  He is quick to become pastoral (not that he has stopped being so), as he addresses this cause of joy.  You’ve revived your concern for me!  How grand!  But had he stopped there, then it would be all about him, wouldn’t it?  And he’s not having that.  So, he immediately casts any such conclusion to the curb.  He also recognizes, I’m sure, that this notice of revived concern could easily come across as a rebuke of prior inaction.  It could too easily sound like, “What took you so long?”  But we have that part immediately put to the side.  No, I know your concern was there all along, but opportunity to act was not.

Now, he moves to the next potential misconception.  “I am not saying this because I feel neglected.”  That’s how the TEV presents the case as we move into verse 11.  I’m not feeling deprived.  I’m not suffering here, wondering when some fellow believer will finally give thought to my sad estate and bring succor. 

Have you ever, I wonder, arrived at church with something of that mindset?  Perhaps you know of which I speak.  You’re dealing with some almost overwhelming sorrow or trial, and yet, you’re in church, and, oh, I don’t know.  Maybe you just don’t want to bring everybody down.  Maybe you feel the inappropriateness of such feelings when you’re in God’s house, and yet you can’t really shake the feelings.  You don’t wish to say anything, yet you’re sure your troubles are so severe that it ought really to be perfectly plain to your brothers just how much you’re hurting.  How come nobody says anything?  Where is that help that I should be receiving from my family here?  What is wrong with these people?  Are they blind?  Have they no heart?  Well, obviously, they don’t have ESP.  They can’t read your mind, and as much as you feel your painful present must surely be plain for all to see, you’re actually well ensconced behind your mask of piety, and frankly, your brothers and sisters have their own pains and sorrows to deal with as well.  If you won’t make your difficulty known, on what basis are you expecting others to help?  Seriously?  And I confess, I speak as one who has known exactly that mindset on occasion.

But Paul’s not looking for sympathy as to his situation.  Far from it!  He’s been celebrating his situation, hasn’t he?  Not because it’s such a wonderful good time, but because God has been at work, even here, even in this, to bring about great things for His name.  So, he delivers the counterpoint.  “I have learned to be content.”  He will be building on this as we proceed, and I will save most of my comment on the matter of contentment for the next part of this study.  Here, I am interested in, “I have learned.”  Hey, you know?  I’ve learned many things over the years, and too much of it becomes just some datapoint in a file I’ve misplaced somewhere.  It gets little more than an, “Oh, interesting.”  But that’s not what we have in Paul.  “I have learned, I know…”

Well, that “I know” which comes about in verse 12 is our friend oida, intuitive knowledge, data analysis, if you will.  The senses have reported, and we’ve thought about their report, and come to some conclusions.  Now we know.  But the knowing begins farther back, with that “I have learned.”  Emathon.  This is not the result of didactic teaching, nor is it necessarily some miraculous revelation knowledge.  It’s learning by practice.  It’s developing a habit.  That in itself doesn’t buy you much.  I’ve written often of muscle memory, and even spiritual muscle memory, and I still hold to the value of that image for our understanding.  That’s somewhat the case we have in view here.  This is, as Zhodiates describes it, knowing with a moral bearing.  There is a moral aspect to this business of being content.  Why?  Because if we are to be content, it comes of recognizing that God’s hand is in our circumstances, that these seeming coincidences are in fact the outworking of God’s Providence for us.  And beloved, if these things are His doing, then however hard they may seem to be, they are good and establishing good in me.  They are, perhaps, the discipline of a loving Father, a discipline which admittedly is not pleasant at the time, but the value of which is felt in the fruit of peace which it produces.

And so, with this habit developed, Paul can honestly declare the result.  “I can make do with next to nothing.  I can also make godly use of abundance.”  I am not put off God by experience of some period of neediness, or what I perceive to be neediness.  If I am without a lot of stuff, well, I am that much freer to go where He says to go, to do what He says to do.  My stuff isn’t holding me.  If, on the other hand, God sees fit to bless me with a period of abundance and prosperity, I do not fall into the trap of wealth.  I don’t make my life all about my stuff.  Again, that stuff has no hold on me.  I will turn what He gives me to good purpose.  If it is little, then it is enough.  If it is more than enough, then, praise God, I have that with which to bless others, perhaps supplying their need, even as my needs have been supplied in previous times.

But observe well.  “I have learned.”  I have developed a habitual practice of contentment.  I am not driven by circumstance.  My sense of God’s blessing does not depend on happy days.  He is with me through everything, and if He is with me, I am content.  Let me tell you, this mindset requires practice, as any habit does.  And it is a practice we need.  I don’t know as I could suggest anything more critical for our spiritual well-being.  Develop this sense of God’s involvement, His careful arranging of your circumstance, and you must, surely, find far less to criticize in that circumstance.  If this is God’s doing, then I know it’s for my good.  I can set myself to learn from it, and I can walk through it content that He who began a good work in me is faithfully completing it in me, not just in spite of these present conditions, but through them.  Know this.  And knowing this, live this.  It will take effort.  It will take constant attentiveness to attitude, and it will stir a greater prayerfulness, I suspect, as we realize how readily we allow circumstances to determine our attitude, rather than our position in Christ doing so.

Lord, I don’t write this as one who has mastered the practice, but as one most thoroughly in need of making it my practice.  You have shown me, of late, the powerful difference attitude can make, and I pray You help me to expand on that.  Too easily, I can become testy, self-involved, critical of anybody who thinks differently than I do.  And this just leads to bitter Jeff.  And bitter Jeff cannot well represent gracious God.  So, continue to work with me in this, my Lord, to shift those attitudes that reflect so poorly upon You, that I may the more demonstrate Your good presence in my life, serve more as a beacon and less as a warning sign.

The Mystery of Contentment (10/30/24-10/31/24)

There is a great deal of knowing in this passage.  It begins with that learning Paul speaks of in verse 11, establishing a habit.  It continues with a repeated knowing how in verse 12, and now, at the end of verse 12, we have this learning of the secret, or, as the KJV puts it, more simply, “I am instructed.”  The term he uses here is one that would be familiar to those who had encountered one of the myriad mystery religions of the period.  This is the state of the initiated.  They have been instructed in the hidden knowledge, as it were, granted access to the meaning of whatever visions or rituals or whatnot had formed the core of this mystery religion.  Paul often uses such terminology in regard to Christianity, but not because Christianity is yet another mystery religion.  Rather, it is because it shares somewhat in its nature, in that there are these core matters which, while they were in plain sight for long ages, there to be found even in the earliest chapters of Torah, yet they had remained hidden to the eyes of the reader, even to centuries of faithful Jews.  Nobody, for all their effort in knowing and abiding by the Law of God, had recognized this inclusion of the Gentiles.  Nobody had thought that God, being God of all, intended to be God to all.  But here it was.  The worst efforts to quash the rise of Christianity had only caused it to spread the more, and here was its fiercest opponent, now made its most devoted evangelist.

But that’s not the mystery we have before us in this passage.  There are other mysteries to this faith.  There’s the way that marriage is set not merely as the means to address our desires without accruing sins, but actually as a living parable of Christ’s love for His church, and her love for Him.  There’s a purpose to it that lays hidden until and unless Christ sends the Holy Spirit to open our perception to that reality.  Now, we have this other mystery set before us:  How to be content.  And it is a mystery, isn’t it?  It seems, looking around us, that there are few if any who know how to be so.  We have entire industries whose sole purpose, so it seems, is to stir up discontent.  You could have more.  You could have better.  You could live the lifestyle of the rich and famous, and why shouldn’t you?  You deserve it.  Just do it.  It infects those with means, and it infects those without.  It leads to living in debt because you won’t live within your means.  It leads to a life of crime because you’ll not allow your lack of means to require a lifestyle that is less than you feel you deserve.  It infects everything.  It infects how we work, how we drive, how we treat our own spouses.  It hammers us with the expectation that we should be looking out for number one, and everybody else can just look out for themselves.

But Paul points us in a new direction.  “I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need.”  I’m taking that directly from the NASB in this case, but I have must confess I have always heard that with a question as to just what is intended.  Is he saying that these two polar opposites are, for him, a constant and simultaneous experience?  Or, is he saying that he has this capacity to remain content across such a broad spectrum of experience?  Perhaps, I suppose, it’s one of those both/and situations.

I might suppose that there are many who, in spite of living with superabundance, as most would account things, have this gnawing hunger for more.  I could pretty readily paint most of the West with such a brush, couldn’t I?  Nor am I immune to it.  I know those occasions where the urge to obtain something more is so strong as to be almost impossible to oppose.  But that’s not contentment, is it?  That’s the opposite of being content.  If I’m going to find a positive case for being hungry while filled, then I must recognize that this is not primarily concerned with the physical, but rather, with the spiritual.  I can be filled with the Holy Spirit, and I dare say that I am.  Yet, I am hungry for more.  Were it not so, I don’t suppose I would be sitting here every morning, pouring over God’s Word and pursuing these thoughts.  If set in that light, then yes, this presents a most wonderful mystery, doesn’t it?  That no matter how long I have been in His Word, no matter how long I have walked humbly with my God, yet there is so much more to discover.

That could almost bring me back around to the mystery of marriage, for much the same could be said of my spouse.  Though we’ve been together now thirty years and more, yet there are depths to her that I continue to discover.  Though there are aspects of one another that we may know almost too well, now; stories we have heard from one another enough times to have them memorized, yet there are these peaks we get at other facets of this wonderful person.  There are those turns of thought that take us by surprise, hopefully with delight, as we struggle to wrap our minds around how the other’s mind works.  Now, we may experience that to some degree with others as well, but in this close relationship, it is somehow more profoundly experienced.  And, in Christ?  In this most intimate and most significant of relationships in which we find ourselves?  This constant revealing of Himself to us, the way in which we discover new things about Him, and in so doing, discover new things about ourselves, is stunning indeed.  So, yes, though I have learned much of Him, yet I hunger for more.  Though I know He has brought me far in faith and maturation, yet I hunger to see that which is yet lacking in me made whole as well.

Let’s look at the other side of this coin, to know abundance in a state of need.  And let’s establish that we’re talking true need, here, not merely wish lists gone unfulfilled.  Given that I am going back to Malawi in a bit less than two weeks, they are much on my mind, and in many ways, they exemplify this perspective for me.  From my Western perspective, they are living in a state of constant and dire need.  And it may well be that the need this time is greater than before, as it appears they have been dealing with yet another year of drought.  For an agrarian society such as this, that is dreadful indeed.  Where are the crops to sustain them for the year to come?  Where is the electricity with which to preserve what they have, with which to address the heat of summer?  Will there be water enough to sustain life and livestock?  This is serious, life and death need.  And yet, at least amongst those we meet in the churches, there is a joy of life beyond reckoning.  Now, it could be they are just determined to put a good face on things while they’re at church.  But those kinds of facades tend to crumble over the course of long, hot days, don’t they?  If they are maintained, I would have to conclude it’s not due to main strength, but due to the strength our God supplies.  And that, I dare say, applies to us as we teach every bit as much as it does to those we seek to teach.  But they are a wonder to me, a marvel, that their joy can be so contagiously complete even facing the daily challenges of life which they face, things that would be unimaginable to me.

Honestly, if you brought these conditions into the West, a large portion of the society would likely just curl up and die.  Our sense of privation considers much lesser needs to be too much to bear.  And you want us to bear this?  And bear it joyfully?  And the answer that comes is, “Yes.”  Take up your cross and follow Me.  And, following Me, there is no place for sorrow.  Following Me, there is no place for angry resentment because so and so is doing better than you.  Following Me, there is peace, peace beyond comprehension.  Following Me, there is joy unspeakable.  It’s not a lark, by any stretch, but it is joyful.  I am with the One who has overcome the world.  I am over the One who conquered sin and death!  I am a child of God!  It may sound trite, but it’s powerful.  It’s a marvel.  It’s fulness even in the midst of want.  I am His.  He has me.  If I am in a place of need, it is because He has set me in this place, and if He has set me in this place, it is because being in this place will in fact turn out for my good.  I may not see it now.  I may not even recognize it when that good has come to pass.  But it remains true, whether I am able to perceive it or not.

There is the mystery:  God is in control.  Come what may, I need not give the devil his due.  I need not rail against the elements, or against cruel fate.  No!  God works all things together for the good of those who love Him, those called according to His purpose (Ro 8:28).  That’s my story, because that’s His promise.  That does not require of me that I simply wallow in whatever miseries may be my present lot.  But it assures me that, while this present situation persists, God is at work.  Something is coming of it besides misery.  It may be that there are lessons I must needs learn before I can be permitted to move on, in which case, Lord, teach me and make of me an apt pupil.  But it may be that the perseverance learned in these circumstances is simply building a character of compassion in me, that I may be an instrument of comfort to others in future situations.  It may simply be that I am being equipped to be a better mentor to some soul to come later.  Or, it may be the chisel of God, chipping away another rough spot in my character in order that I may more truly reflect His light.

I find it much harder, to be honest, to hear this as merely addressing the extreme ends of experience.  Weymouth seems to lean that direction with his translation.  “I am fully initiated into all the mysteries both of fulness and of hunger, of abundance and of want.”  I mean, that doesn’t really get much beyond saying I’ve experienced the full range of human experience.  That would be true enough in Paul’s case, I expect.  But it’s hardly a mystery, is it?  Okay, so you grew up reasonably well off in a fine, metropolitan setting.  You enjoyed the perks of that life, learning from the best teachers and having an easy path into positions of influence.  And you’ve certainly experienced hardships the likes of which would have killed a lesser man.  We have enough places where Paul recounts the things he’s faced.  So, yes, certainly there’s a breadth of experience there.  But so what?  There are plenty of others who could have made similar claims.  Many a slave in that society had likely known honor and wealth prior to being taken as a prisoner of war.  It hardly makes them exemplars of virtue.  There’s got to be more to this than that.

The TLB offers us, “I have learned the secret of contentment in every situation, whether it be a full stomach or hunger, plenty or want.”  Okay, that might be a little more impressive.  The secret of contentment, across such a broad spectrum of experience, must surely demonstrate something.  How one is to be content when the stomach is growling and there’s no sustenance in view, is something we might wish to learn, simply as a survivalist skill.  How to persevere in godliness even when surrounded by a wealth of goods, that might prove beneficial, given how Jesus observes the difficulty the rich face in entering the kingdom of God.  Okay, Paul, show me how to live godly with my means.  I think, too, of that warning God gave to Israel.  You’ll have all this stuff.  Your gardens will be producing, your livestock fat and happy, your houses grand and solid, and you’ll forget about Me.  That’s the great danger of wealth, that we become so engrossed in our wealth, in the stuff, that we lose sight of God, and worse, of our dependence upon God for everything.  I would not wish to awake, one dark night, to that dire judgment.  “You fool!  This very night your soul is required of you.” (Lk 12:20).  “And now who will own all that you have prepared?”  What use all the stuff if you forfeit your soul?  “Life is more than food, the body more than clothing” (Lk 12:23).

Honestly, I feel that challenge.  How do I live in this setting, in this condition, and retain attentiveness upon God?  My health is good.  My situation is near to ideal.  My biggest challenge, most days, is getting out of this chair more often, or maybe giving my eyes a break from the screens.  But no, my biggest challenge, if I am paying attention, is in keeping my awareness of God, is seeking to walk godly into the workplace, into my relationship with my wife, into the interruptions that the day will inevitably bring, into the tiredness and the desire to tend to my own needs.

Lord, teach me.  Bring me to this place that Paul describes, where my contentment is found in You and You alone, where circumstances no longer carry any weight with me. I know Your provision, and I assuredly know the pleasantness of my present circumstance.  I know, too, the trials that have come with it, those things which can so readily move me to unease, to lack of contentment.  Keep my focus where it belongs, where it should be; on You and Your kingdom.  Let my heart be more for you than for my pursuits, my entertainments.  Let my love for You pour over in love for my wife, and in care for those amongst whom You have set me in fellowship.  Let me be more concerned with godliness than with comfort.

What it left to consider here, on this matter of contentment?  There is the need for knowing, for training oneself into the habit of acting upon that knowledge of God, of Who He is, of what He does on my behalf.  That is, I think, the gist of the message here.  This is, after all, a letter that knows cause for concern, and knows those concerns have taken root.  Paul was, by all worldly measures, in a tough spot, and had been, now for years.  The Philippians had their concerns as regarded his welfare.  Clearly, they did.  Otherwise, they would not have sent both money and personnel to his aid as he sat awaiting trial in Rome.  Paul had his own concerns for them.  He knew now of their own situation, both the great good news of their progress and perseverance in the gospel, and of these things which were beginning to trouble the fellowship.  Factionalism had already disturbed other churches, as had issues of Judaizing influences, and other proponents of false corruptions of the gospel.  He knew how readily these could disrupt, even destroy the work he had done, if left to continue.  This was not some expression of a lack of trust in God to see to His church.  It was care for His church.  It was concern to be the servant he had been called to be.  And so, there were potentials for overwrought concern on both sides.  That being the case, I think this passage serves both to remind them of God’s Providence, and to remind himself.  Paul was, after all, only human.  We need, sometimes, to be put back in mind of all that God has done for us thus far.  That in itself gives us cause to fully expect that He will do what is needed to see us through now and into the future.  And so, we have this message.  Don’t be dismayed.  Don’t fret over my circumstances.  Don’t fret over yours.  I likewise, shall not fret over either situation.  Know that God provides.  You do know it.  You’ve seen it.  Over and over again.  And you know that His provision is perfect, as He is perfect.  That hasn’t changed.  These present circumstances do nothing to alter the case.  Stand fast.

Now, understand and understand well that this recognition and awareness of God’s provision and care do not require of us that we simply lie back and take it.  They do not serve as an excuse for us to become passive, to simply look on and wait for God to act.  Sometimes, often times, we are the means of God’s choice in providing as He intends to provide.  We are called to be wise.  We are called to be active in our steadfastness.  We are called to do and to be.  What shifts is this:  We are and we do with a full awareness of being happily situated in God’s hands.  We are and we do in the knowledge that, as Paul observed earlier, it is God Who is at work in us, both to render us willing to the work, and to render us able (Php 2:13).  We persevere with God.  We persevere as standing alongside Him, observing His actions, His course, and setting ourselves to do likewise.  Following Him is the key to contentment, and to such contentment as transcends circumstance.  For, if we are following Him, walking humbly with our God, loving what He loves, doing what He desires to see done, we have every reason for contentment.  We could also consider our Lord, who reminds us that the disciple is never greater than the Teacher.  He came and served as one with no place to call his own.  He had no home, no wife and kids.  He had no fixed abode, and no particular means to earn his living.  Yet, He served.  He served any and all.  And He prayed.  He set Himself upon the mercy and the provision of His Father and ours.  And in so doing, He set the example for us.  No, we are not gods, not in the sense we would generally hear it.  And yes, I understand that Scripture does make the statement, and Jesus even made reference to it.  But the setting makes clear that the meaning is more to do with acting as judges, making sound judgments that are wise and just, than with any sort of powers or decretal authority.  How, after all, could we walk humbly with our God if we’re busy preening in our status as little gods?  What is that but to set up our idols of self once more?  You can paint it with all the sanctimony you desire, but I don’t see that it alters the case at all.

I want, before departing this subject, to look at one other passage from Paul’s epistles, this one written to his young partner in ministry, Timothy.  Timothy was, at the time, ministering in Ephesus, a significant and well-to-do city of the empire.  There is some suggestion that he had become at least a little bit distracted by the wealth and comfort that were on offer.  And it may be that he was also dealing with such preachers as we would account televangelists, pliers of ministry for money.  Their care was less with godliness than with gain, as is the case with so many in every age.  This prosperity gospel may be a relatively recent variation on the theme, but it’s nothing particularly new.  From the outset, there were those looking at this religion as a means to an easy life.  In large part, the whole system of Judaism as it was being pursued at the time was led by men of such character.  The Sadducees may, at least some of them, had real interest in truth and godliness, but it had largely been subsumed by the will to power.  The Pharisees certainly knew deep and abiding interest in God’s word and in being found righteous, but their desire for true holiness had been overwhelmed by their desire for a good reputation.  Better their honor than God’s had become the de facto setting.  So, in their own way, they had become preachers more interested in personal gain than in pursuing God’s intentions.

Come into the early church age, and there were all sorts of folks looking to prey on this new Christian sect.  There were the Judaizers, seeking to gain or maintain their influential position, or to be seen as the super-members of the church, if you will.  You had these mystery religions, the nascent gnostic movement, looking to come in and take over the relatively naïve converts with something that had enough of Christianity to it to look right, but then added thick smears of vain imaginations, and doctrines of demons, leaving them in a place to be powers in the house of God, to make a comfy life for themselves at the expense of the souls of those foolish enough to follow them.  No, this prosperity gospel, and preaching for wealth and fame are nothing new.  That doesn’t improve their situation any.  But the fact is, such snakes have ever been amongst the grass of the Church.

So, did Timothy succumb in some degree to these enticements to make it more about himself, his comfort and his fame?  I don’t know as we can say that with certainty.  It is something we find many commenters inferring from texts such as the one I have in mind.  Why else would Paul be addressing such a thought, except that he knew Timothy was at risk by them?  But the passage.  Let me set it down here.  He writes that, “Godliness really is a means of great gain – when it walks together with contentment” (1Ti 6:6).  Godliness, real godliness, cannot but walk with contentment, for it produces in us the very contentment with which it would walk.  But Paul continues.  “Look.  We bring nothing into this world with us, and we can’t take anything with us when we go.  But while we are here, if we have food and shelter, we shall be content.”  Now, is Paul setting some bar here, marking a minimum point below which we can in fact be discontented?  I don’t think so.  It is more likely to serve as an acknowledgement of God’s provision.  He told us not to be anxious as to what we shall eat or what we shall wear, did He not (Mt 6:25)?  What’s the antidote?  Know your God!  You can look around you any day of the year, and see that He provides.  The birds aren’t suffering for lack of food or lack of housing.  If we forget to put out seed for a week or two, or have to put that aside due to the bears, the birds don’t start dropping out of the sky due to starvation.  God provides!  Even in the depths of winter, God provides.  And how does He conclude?  “Your Father knows you need these things.  For your part, seek His kingdom first and foremost, and know that all you need will be added to you” (Mt 6:32b-33). 

Don’t be anxious.  Be content.  God’s got you.  This is the message Paul is delivering, and as we see, it is not some new message of his own devising.  It’s not Paul just trying to cope with his situation by painting it in a better light.  This is life in Christ!  This is your true story.  These, then, are words to settle our hearts.

I am not by any stretch immune to being anxious.  I look at this upcoming trip and, though I know full well that all that I have been saying here is true, still I become concerned about this and that, about the logistics, about the heat, the possibilities of electrical outages.  I know concern for my spouse and how she shall fair in my absence.  What if it snows?  Who shall plow?  What about the leaves?  She can’t do them, and I can’t bring them down on my schedule to deal with them?  So, what to do?  Do I continue to fret?  No.  Do I simply sit back and leave it to God to act?  No.  I seek His answers, and I seek to move in accordance with His provision so as to have things in place as best I may, and I trust Him both to provide answer and to cover any oversight in my efforts.

As to the work of ministry ahead, well, I have prepared as best I am able, and I know well enough that in the end it will need relying on God both for the strength and ability to deliver what is needed in a useful fashion, and to have sufficient wisdom to alter and adjust as needed.  If there are power outages, He will see us through them.  As to food, well… Again, I must trust to Him to supply us, and to keep us clear of any debilitating illness.  We have prepared as we can, but without the panicked response that modern medicine seems to promote.  Oh, you could encounter this, or that, or some other deadly thing.  You need to have a plan.  You need this shot, and that shot, and these pills, and those pills, and the means to arrange evacuation should that become necessary.  So many things you can worry about.  Look!  We have a whole booklet here, just for you.  Oh, but it comes to this.  God has numbered my days.  That cuts both ways.  If He wants me there to minister, then He will see to it that I am both present and able to minister.  And if He decides that it’s time for me to come home, no quantity of shots and pills will alter that in the least.  If death is the worst you’ve got for me to worry about, then honestly, I have no cause to worry.  As our brother said much earlier in this letter, to live is Christ, and to die is gain (Php 1:21).  That is the reality that gives us ground for contentment.  That, I think, is perhaps the mystery to which Paul points us.  Nothing in this life can suffice to tear us from our inheritance in Christ.  We are in His hands, and nothing can take us out of them.  If we’ve got that settled, then circumstance is reduced to the level of noise.  We may not dismiss it entirely, but it doesn’t really move the needle anymore.  We are steadied by God Himself, and nothing, NOTHING can separate us from His love.

Rest in this.  Abide in this.  Settle in for the ride, because He’s got you.  He’s got your loved ones.  He’s long since had your past, and He most assuredly holds your future.  Rest and continue your course.

The Key to Life (11/01/24)

I have considered this matter of contentment, in resting in the goodness of God’s providence.  It’s not always easy, because God’s providence, though good, does not always appear so at the time.  This takes practice.  It takes training our perspective to remain upon His care of us, even when things get difficult.  And they do get difficult.  Here, in the introduction to the Revelation, I find John exhibiting exactly the perspective that we are called to have for ourselves.  Consider his words.  “I, John, your brother, your fellow partaker in the tribulation and the kingdom and the perseverance which are in Jesus, was on the island of Patmos because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus” (Rev 1:9).  Think about that a bit.  Patmos was not someplace God had sent him because there were people there in need of salvation.  He wasn’t off to plant another church.  He was there because he had been doing what he should, preaching the word of God, and those in power didn’t appreciate it.  So, they had sent him to Patmos as something of a slow-motion death sentence.  This was not a reward.  In a lesser man, it would have quite likely led to serious questions.  Why, God?  I’ve been doing everything right, so what’s up with this?  What am I supposed to have done, that I deserve such treatment?  Where’s the glory in this?

But that’s not John’s perspective at all, is it?  Indeed, if you look again at that common experience he claims with us, you see something quite different.  Like you, he says, I am partaker in the tribulation.  How much more strongly that seems to have been felt in the early church!  I suppose it was inevitable, what, with the official position of Rome being that those who believe in Jesus ought to be put to death as enemies of the state.  And to be sure, there had been trials of other sorts, the same sorts of trials that led Paul to write so many letters defending the nascent church against the incursions of falsehood.  It was hard to be a Christian then.  It’s hard now.  We may not, for the present, face quite the depths of opposition and expulsion that were common then, but it’s clear enough that the society around us really wants nothing to do with us, and only tolerates us while we remain relatively quiet about our faith.

But it’s not just tribulation.  The kingdom is also that of which he partakes.  Isn’t that something?  It’s not just looking forward to a blessed future.  He speaks of it as a present possession, a present experience, even as he contemplates existence on this barren rock of Patmos.  And then, of course, he partakes of perseverance.  But what really strikes me is that all of these things, the good, the bad, and the tolerable, are ‘in Jesus.’  It’s that same phrase we had in regard to Paul’s rejoicing.  What John is saying, as Paul was saying of his joy, is that these things are from Jesus, per His providence.  All of this is God’s providence for me.  That is a confession with power!  This is so far beyond the name it and claim it sort of faith that is so popular.  This is so far beyond gifts and power theology.  This is recognizing that a good God has me well in hand, and that whatever has come my way has come my way by His purposing that it should do so.  Does He have plans set in place, purposes I am designed to fulfill?  Absolutely!  Do I need to get exercised over that, fearful lest I fail to do as designed?  I don’t believe so, no.  God hasn’t left things to chance.  As I have been stressing much of late, I can work from rest.  And, as I have been stressing too much of late, over the events ahead of me, I need to hear it again.

And so, I come to the clear and obvious key verse of this passage.  We all know it.  We bring it out ever and again.  “I can do all things through Christ Jesus who strengthens me.”  But it’s not just for when maybe the path got a little bit difficult.  It’s also for when our situation seems hopeless, the path ahead impossible.  Again, look at John on that spit of an island.  How many times had he already faced death by this point?  We don’t rightly know, but the legends around him suggest a number of occasions where they had thought to put him to death and failed.  I don’t imagine that made the next occasion any easier to contemplate, though, did it?  Paul, having been stoned, beaten, and otherwise abused so very many times could not have found all that much comfort in the fact when the next time came around.  It’s not like that, is it?  But he can turn to his strength.  He can remain mindful that even this has come from Christ and as such, it has come not to destroy but to strengthen.  Even that prison cell in which he had been living this last year and more, even should it lead to his death, was not some mistake on God’s part, nor was it a punishment for some oversight on his part.  It was, properly perceived, an opportunity, and one the likes of which would have been most likely to occur otherwise.  Here he was, perfectly positioned to bring the gospel into the very heart of the empire, into the very house of the emperor! 

The way he had come to be there is hardly the sort of course he would have charted for himself.  Facing a riotous crowd may have become a common enough occurrence in his ministry, but it wasn’t the goal, certainly.  Being dragged away in chains by the Roman authorities, while prophesied to him as he made his way there, was not really something he had been aiming to achieve.  The years spent in Caesarea, as one or another author mentioned, in sight of the sea upon which he would prefer to have been setting out to establish more churches, yet unable to do so, may have chafed, may even have felt wasted to him.  Yet, all of these things were the setup.  And when the time came, it seems the Spirit prompted him to see it: “I appeal to Caesar!”  This wasn’t about self-preservation.  This was about recognizing what God was arranging through all these events, and ceasing upon it.  Here’s my ticket!  I’m on it.

This truly was Paul’s perspective, and it shows.  All things!  Whatever it is Christ sends me into, I can do it through Him.  There are, I think, two points of emphasis here.  The first is clear from the syntax, as that panta, all things, is pushed to the front of the sentence.  There is nothing I cannot do.  There is no circumstance that can drive me to just give up and toss in the towel.  I can do all things.  There is no assignment Christ will give me which is too tough.  That doesn’t, I should stress, mean that every last thing that somebody urges upon us as our Christian duty, or as an opportunity to serve, needs to be accepted as necessity.  It’s not, I can do all things because I’m a hero.  It’s not, I can do all things, even though it kind of ticks me off that they’re asking for yet another thing to be done.  I mean, really, isn’t there anybody else available?  No.  That’s not the way.  And if we are feeling that way, chances are pretty good, that while we may be striving to do all things, we’re doing it in our flesh, and that, even if it works, will reek.

No, there is that second point of emphasis, and it’s presented in the smallest of words, en.  I can do it, but only through Christ Jesus.  It’s by His strength flowing through me, or it’s not really done at all.  That through is a powerful point.  From the philosophical standpoint, it has the idea of instrumentality to it.  That power is Christ’s power, not mine.  That purpose ahead of me is His, not mine.  The outcome is in His hands, not mine.  What I can do, I can do because He is empowering me to do it.  Then, too, there is a sense of intimacy to this, for the same term may often be found translated as in, or amidst.  It has that sense of being at rest, of which I’ve been speaking.  We have prepositions of motion, moving into or out of, being above or below.  But this is in, on.  I can do all things in intimate connection with Christ Jesus.  Don’t lose sight of that, for that truly is the key.  Lose that intimate connection, and the flow of power dries up.  It’s like trying to run your dryer with nothing to connect it to power but a couple of 24 gage wires.  It might run for a minute or two, but the connection is not up to the task.  It will burn out, and leave the dryer powerless.

Too often, that’s exactly how we address matters of faith and spirit, as being just barely connected at all to our Lord.  We’re really off doing our own thing, but trying to put His name to it.  We’re trying to do good, but by our own strength and according to our own definitions, and it’s just not working.  We’re just tiring ourselves, becoming irritable in the service of Christ.  That’s bound to work well, don’t you think?  It puts me in mind of the passage we read last night.  Hear the cry of God’s people.  “Hey, God!  We have fasted.  Why aren’t You responding?  Look how we have humbled ourselves!  Won’t you pay attention?”  And God brings His correction.  “You call that a fast?  What was your point?  You’re just trying to get your desires met, and even as you put on this holy display, you’re pushing your workers to work harder, probably even telling them they need to do so because you’re so terribly weak at the moment, what with all this fasting.”  It gets worse.  “You fast for contention and strife.  You fast in order to strike with a wicked fist, not in hopes of being heard by Me.” (Isa 58:3-4).

Somehow, it seems, there are those that suppose this still counts as commendation, as if what He was saying was that their fast aimed to address problems of contention and strife.  But that’s not it at all.  This is a corrective.  “You think this is what I was looking for?  That you would abase yourself, make yourself weak, and lay about in sackcloth and ashes?  You think that’s what constitutes an acceptable fast?  Really?” (Isa 58:5).  And then, He proceeds to redefine fasting, or at the very least, its purpose.  “The fast which I choose aims to loosen the bonds of wickedness, release from the yoke, put an end to oppression.  The fast which I choose shares your food with the hungry, your home with the homeless, your provisions with those in need of provision.” (Isa 58:6-7).  It’s not about satisfying your wants, nor even about meeting your needs.  It’s about addressing sin and pursuing holiness.  It’s not a time to play, “Look at me!  I’m fasting!”  It’s a time to stand tall in the strength of the Lord and pursue His will and His purpose in His power.  It’s about the very thing Paul proclaims here.  “I can do all things through Christ Jesus who strengthens me.”  My strength isn’t coming from my being well-fed and well-supplied.  My strength is coming from weakness, if you want to drag 1Corinthians into the picture.  What I am able to do is because Christ Jesus is doing it, and I am in intimate connection with Him.  As much as anything, I’m along for the ride.

We’re back to this:  Whatever it is you’re facing, it’s of God’s providence that you are facing it.  You don’t need to look for devils to blame it on, nor should you, really.  Even if they are the means, the instrumentality remains with God.  It’s not about seeing you oppressed, tormented, and reduced to a trembling mass.  It’s about you leaning in to your intimate connection with Christ.  It’s about persevering in the strength He supplies.  It’s about discovering that in Him, through Him, and by Him you are not only capable of standing fast, but are actually doing so.  I can’t speak for others, I guess, but I can tell you that from my own experience, it is often a surprise to me when I find I have in fact stood fast.  It’s not an occasion for patting myself on the back for being so good.  It’s an occasion for praising God, as I am suddenly made aware of just how much work He has accomplished in my refit already.  Really?  I did that?  I came through that without reverting to my standard, fleshly ways?  Praise God!  Thank You, Jesus!  And that is perhaps the most encouraging feeling you can experience.  Because it gives proof to the accuracy of what Paul is saying here.  He’s not self-promoting.  What he says of himself is simply by way of saying that this is true of us all.  We, too, can do all things through Christ who strengthens us.

And His strength comes with purpose.  Writing to the church in Colossae, Paul describes them as being, “strengthened with all power, according to His glorious might, for the attaining of all steadfastness and patience” (Col 1:11).  That’s what this is about.  Steadfastness and patience.  It’s one thing to weather the storms of life, but if we are doing it full of anger and resentment, we’ve a ways to go yet.  We may have stood fast, but our hearts still need some work.  Oh, but it’s dangerous to pray for patience!  God just might send along circumstances that will try our patience.  Well, yes, He may.  Of course, He’s probably going to do that anyway, isn’t He?  Because it’s needful for your growth.  Patience is part of the package.  It’s part of the image we are called to bear, for who has been more patient than our Lord?  Who has had more cause to wonder, “How long?”

You can hear patience being tested in that moment when Jesus and His three closest companions have come down from the mountain, back to where the others are ministering to the crowds.  He has just been in contact with heaven in the most immediate fashion, revealed in His glory to these three, and now, they’ve come back down to earth, as it were.  And here are His disciples falling short.  They have been faced with a young man beset by epileptic seizures, his father beseeching them to bring God’s power to play and heal his son, and they have proved unable.  And how does Jesus respond?  “O unbelieving and perverted generation, how long shall I be with you?  How long will I put up with you?” (Mt 17:15-17).  But He remained patient.  He addressed the immediate issue, and then, He addressed His disciples.  Because they were bemused.  Why couldn’t we do this, Jesus?  And at least in Matthew’s account, we have that interjection that, “This kind does not go out except by prayer and fasting” (Mt 17:21).  I will note that only Matthew’s account includes the point about fasting, and its being bracketed in the text indicates some question as to the validity of the verse.  Mark only mentions prayer.  But I think, overall, we can take the point more directly.  You were trying to do it in your own strength and power; trying to work yourself up to a healing.  That’s not going to work.  You either remain intimately connected to your source, and appeal to Him, or you fail.

And lo!  I have wandered off yet again after what are sidetracks and implications.  Let me try and come back to the text at hand, and see if I can’t conclude this study.  It comes down to awareness.  The gage of our connection to our source is not measured in thickness of wire, but in degree of awareness.  If we go through our day with nary a thought for God, no surprise if we find ourselves weighed down, wrung out, and barely able to cope.  If, on the other hand, we train ourselves to remain mindful of His presence and His providence, if we seek to consciously consider each event of the day in the light of His purpose, things change.  We have a greater connection to our God, and as such, we are more able to serve as channels for His will and purpose to apply.

Let me be clear.  God does not need us to achieve His purposes.  He chooses us to be vessels, to be conduits for His activity.  But His purposes are not subject to our compliance.  He knows better than that.  He knows us better than that.  And He has already taken into account our weak and fallible flesh.  But He desires that we might know our part in His actions, that we might feel useful, and who knows?  We might actually prove to be useful.  But whatever the situation we face, and however we face it this time around, God knows what’s best, and He knows how to supply what’s best.  He arranges what’s best.  We may not see it that way, particularly in the moment.  But we should.  He is right, and we, if we disagree, are wrong.  End of story.  So, rest in His wisdom.  Rest in His arrangements.  Work, but not as one striving to save the day, or to prove himself, or any such thing.  Work in the clear awareness that it is God Who is working in you.  Work as one who has set himself to watch and learn, who observes and emulates.  And work, knowing that since it is actually Him doing the work, you can be at peace in the midst of it, knowing that what He desires shall in fact be achieved.

Here, then, is our takeaway, our exercise.  Look at this assessment Paul is able to give of himself:  Content in whatever circumstance, happy to get by with little to nothing, happy to use whatever he has to further the kingdom, not overly attached to either, not constrained by his condition, but maintaining intimate connection to God, and therefore able to do whatever God calls him to do.  Now, ask yourself – better yet, as the Spirit – to what degree does this describe me?  Where am I lacking?

Lord, I know that I do not remain anywhere near as mindful of You in the course of my day as I ought.  I get to work, and too much, I am trying to deal with it purely from intellect and drive.  But You are there with me.  Help me to retrain my thinking, to remain aware of Your presence, Your wisdom.  Help me to increase the intimacy of connection with You, to face even the technical challenges of work with You in mind.  You have done much to reshape my attitude and perspective in that setting these last few weeks, and I thank You profusely for that!  How much better the day goes when I can face it with a proper servant’s heart and a desire to help.  Now, I would pray, let that extend into home life.  Let me not be found having spent all my strength trying to represent You well before these strangers, only to prove weak and ungodly here at home.  I am Yours, and I would serve You well.  I know full well that in large part that consists in how I am serving those amongst whom You have set me, those You have entrusted into my care.  Let me care with Your heart.  Let me serve with Your strength.  And let the glory of it, such as it is, redound to You.  In short, let me truly live the truth I see here, and to be actively doing all that You set before me to do in You, not in me.