Dump the fear, and pick up the faith

Philippians 11 I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 12 I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry,y whether living in plenty or in want. 13 I can do all this through him who gives me strength.

I love the story of Paul. Here was a man that was rich, smart, but very evil. He hated, hunted, and haunted Christians. Yet on his way to hunt Christians down and kill them, God decided that he could be used to spread the Gospel to the Gentiles. After all, who would be more believed by the Pharisees than one of their own who had changed sides?

When Barnabas introduced Paul (Formerly Saul), to the Disciples/Apostles, they could not believe that this chief killer of their faith was now an instrument of God. It didn’t make sense. Why would this guy have such a radical change in direction? Why would he give up his position of wealth and influence. To say they were suspicious is an understatement, they hated him.

So now we move forward a few years later after the others had accepted and embraced him, and we find Paul in jail in Philippi. He’s facing death, but we see that his faith has not only remained steadfast, but has become stronger. He’s in prison, and that’s where we see today’s passage come into play.

Paul is most likely in chains, but instead of saying poor me, he begins to say that he has all that he needs, because he has Jesus. He says, “Look, I’ve been rich and influential, so I know what that’s like, but even though I’m imprisoned now, I’ve never been happier. Happier because I know my joy isn’t found in riches, but in the peace of Jesus.”

I wish I had that sort of contentment in times when I find myself in trials! Don’t get me wrong, I feel pretty strong most of the time, but there are definitely times when I find myself wishing I had more material things.

Why do we always want more? The Bible is full of examples of people who have had their socks blessed off, they are satisfied for a little while, then they wind up wanting more. We are just never satisfied.

Let’s pray to be content with what God has given us and stop worrying about the future. Let’s remember that no matter how bad we think we have it, God will always give us what we need. Let’s dump the fear and pick up the faith.

#dumpthefear #Pickupthefaith

How to be like Job

Job 1:20 At this, Job got up and tore his robe(AS) and shaved his head.(AT) Then he fell to the ground in worship(AU) 21 and said:

 

“Naked I came from my mother’s womb,

and naked I will depart.[c](AV)

The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away;(AW)

may the name of the Lord be praised.”(AX)

 

I wish I could be like Job. I’ve gone through a lot in my years, but nothing like him. He had just had various messengers come to him and tell him that all of his livestock was dead, all of his workers, and all 10 of his children had died at once. All within an hour. So what does he do? Job 1:20 tells us that he fell to the ground and worshipped God. That is truly an amazing act of faithfulness!

 

How many times have we gone through just a fraction of what Job did, and yet all we did was complain or feel sorry for ourselves? I know I’ve done both. We need to become more like Jobe and find our ability to worship and love God in ANY circumstances.

 

So how do we become like Job? We take each set of circumstances that bring us a rough patch in life, and praise God that it’s not worse. Every time we do this, it becomes easier to do because we grow stronger. We become worship athletes if you will, and our ability to run the race that we call life much stronger in our faith, and much happier.

A look at 2 Chronicles

Today’s look at the books that most people know very little about is….

 

2 Chronicles: Be Wise and Learn from History

 

This is a book for history buffs. Along with 1 Chronicles, this book is a compilation of official and unofficial documents, the record of the history of God’s people. The history in 2 Chronicles extends from the beginning of King Solomon’s rule to the exile of Judah to Babylon. The author, likely Ezra, focused on telling the story of King David’s descendants and the centrality of the Holy City, Jerusalem, to their lives.

 

Solomon established his authority, unified Israel, and set about to put down early rebellions against his throne. He also built a glorious temple in Jerusalem. Israel’s history during these years included kings who “did right in the sight of the Lord,” others who “did evil,” and some who strayed and then repented. Solomon, on the other hand, started off following God but fell into sin.

 

While there are some who like to erase history, those who are wise will learn from it. Remember God’s blessings. Remember the consequences of sin. Use it all to grow in faith and obedience.

What does the Bible say about the Book of Numbers?

Today’s Book of the Bible that doesn’t get its share of time in the spotlight is….

Judges: Sin Never Goes Unpunished

Judges, likely authored by the prophet-writer Samuel—Israel’s last judge—was more than a collection of military and administrative “stories” from Israel’s history. The phrase, “in those days there was no king in Israel” occurs throughout the book; so Judges describes a character-rich period of history after Joshua’s death and before Saul’s anointing as King, a period of nearly 300 years.

Judges offers an overview of Israel’s moral decline and apostasy, the political and religious upheaval as the Israelites attempted to possess yet-unconquered lands God had promised them, and even tribal infighting in Israel (Judges 12; 20-21). A cycle repeats throughout the book: idolatry and rebellious unbelief followed by God’s judgment through Israel’s enemies, and then a deliverer—a judge raised up by the Lord—to call God’s people to repentance.

This is not a “happy” book; there are numerous disturbing stories. But there are many spiritual giants as well, including Gideon, Samson, Othniel, Shamgar, Jephthath, Ehud, and wise Deborah. Judges’ primary message is this: God will never allow sin to go unpunished. That’s why we need a Savior!

Who sharpens you? Who do you go to when you need to grow in Jesus?

Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another. (Proverbs 27:17 ESV)

When you are stuck in sin, what are you compelled to do? Are you compelled to engage other believers and prayerfully work through sin’s power in your life? Hopefully that is the case, but for many believers we urge ourselves to withdraw, retract, and disengage from those who would walk through our sin with us. This is the last thing we should do! It can be embarrassing admitting we have messed up.

Let us remember, as Christians, we are called to confess our sins to one another (James 5:16).  This is not an irrational rule meant to shame us into compliance. Contrarily, it is intended for our benefit and building one another up in love and grace. What we seem to forget is that what we struggle with others have or do as well. Our Christian brother or sister has already been through what we have and can be there to help us through it. Don’t let pride keep you in sin!! We may be grieved by our sin but continue to live in it because we aren’t confessing it and being sharpened in our fight against it. Repentance is much more than feeling sorry about our sin, it is literally turning around and going the opposite direction.  Rather than living in the dark and returning to sin, confess your sin to a brother or sister and stay accountable to him or her. When this happens, you will find you both become sharper, more useful tools for the Lord.

Who sharpens you?

Hungry Stomachs or hungry souls. This is a much needed soul restoration

One who is full loathes honey, but to one who is hungry everything bitter is sweet. (Proverbs 27:7 ESV)

Many of us who live in a first world nation know well the feeling of a full stomach and a comfortable checking account balance. We know that when we go to sleep our vehicles will be ready to carry us to work in the morning and that the cable bill is paid so we’ll keep up with our DVR queue or our favorite TV show. None of these things are inherently bad, but if we aren’t vigilant our hearts will make them so.

Our security grows increasingly dependent upon our things when we allow our souls to be idle. While our bodies may be satisfied and our minds put at ease, our things cannot nourish our souls. When we live with enough (often more than enough) we must remember that God’s word is “sweeter than honey” (Psalm 119:103) and far more satisfying. But, “one who is full loathes honey”, because such an individual already has enough. Let us be hungry souls, that amidst our plenty we will still crave the sweetness of God’s truth even in seasons of bitter trial.

A must read story called the room.

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features save for the one wall covered with small index-card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read “Girls I Have Liked.” I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.

And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match.

A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named “Friends” was next to one marked “Friends I Have Betrayed.”

The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. “Books I Have Read,” “Lies I Have Told,” “Comfort I Have Given,” “Jokes I Have Laughed At.” Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: “Things I’ve Yelled at My Brothers.” Others I couldn’t laugh at: “Things I Have Done in My Anger,” “Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.” I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped.

I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my 20 years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked “Songs I Have Listened To,” I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn’t found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked “Lustful Thoughts,” I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.

An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: “No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!” In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn’t matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore “People I Have Shared the Gospel With.” The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.

But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus.

I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn’t bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one?

Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn’t anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn’t say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.

“No!” I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was “No, no,” as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn’t be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood.

He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, “It is finished.”

I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

By Joshua Harris. Orginally published in New Attitude Magazine. Copyright New Attitude, 1995. You have permission to reprint this in any form. We only ask that you include the appropriate copyright byline and do not alter the content.

The room….what’s in your file cabinet?

Psalm 51:17 The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

The story below, although fictional, reminds us of our failures, as well as the Lord’s love for us and His ability to love us past our faults. Enjoy, and let me know what you think.

——————————————————————————-

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features save for one wall covered with small index card files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings.

As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read “People I Have Liked.” I opened it and began flipping cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.

And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match.

A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named “Friends” was next to one marked “Friends I have Betrayed.”

The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. “Books I Have Read,” “Lies I Have Told,” “Comfort I Have Given,” “Jokes I Have Laughed At.” Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: “Things I’ve Yelled at My Brothers.” Others I couldn’t laugh at: “Things I Have Done in My Anger,” “Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.” I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped.

I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my short life to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my own signature.

When I came to a file marked “Lustful Thoughts,” I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.

An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them! In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn’t matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards.

But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore “People I Have Shared the Gospel With.” The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than 3 inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.

But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn’t bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one?

Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn’t anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn’t say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.

“No!” I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was “No, no,” as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn’t be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood.

He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, “It is finished.”

I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

– by Joshua Harris