Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed. If you are insulted for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you. But let none of you suffer as a murderer or a thief or an evildoer or as a meddler. Yet if anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify God in that name. For it is time for judgment to begin at the household of God; and if it begins with us, what will be the outcome for those who do not obey the gospel of God? And

“If the righteous is scarcely saved, what will become of the ungodly and the sinner?”

Therefore let those who suffer according to God’s will entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good (1 Peter 4:12-19).

Loading...

Today is the anniversary of Saint Augustine’s birth.  It is a particularly special day for me because no man — with the exception of Jesus — has had as much impact on my life as Augustine.  I have said this before, and I think it is true, that, when I die, Augustine’s feet will be the 2nd I get in line to kiss — that is only after I have spent a day or two wiping tears from the feet of the Lord himself.

About 4 years ago, I picked up a copy of Augustine’s City of God.  Shortly thereafter I began reading the Confessions.  In each of these books I saw for the first time something I had never seen before.  I saw a man desperately, unashamedly in love with God, and he made no attempts to downplay it out of a fear of looking silly or weak.  Augustine was a lover of God, who has only been rivaled in his lavish, penned expression of love for God by King David.

As I read Augustine’s account of his own depraved and sinful life — a story that was routinely interrupted by affectionate praise for the Savior he loved — I was amazed.  I’d never seen anything like it.  His language was so full and overflowing with emotion that it made my own heart “throb with a bewildering passion.”

And at the center of it was one sentence that changed my life:

He loves You too little who loves anything together with You which he loves not for Your sake.

Anything, Augustine? I asked.  Anything, he replied through the pages he’d left me.

I loved a lot of things and a lot of people, and most of them I didn’t love for God’s sake.  Was it for God’s glory that I watched TV, listened to music, or posted on my blog?  Was it with God in mind that I spoke when around my friends?  Was it love for God motivating my love for my family?  Was it for God’s sake that I ate and drank, slept and got out of bed, put on my clothes and breathed?

It wasn’t.  And I was terrified.  More than that, I saw something Augustine had that I wanted.  God became more glorious to me than he had ever been before.  I wanted to know this great God who brought Augustine to his knees before him, tearing his hair and beating his breast.  I found myself on my own knees, mourning over my sin and weeping in joy.  My experience was like that of Augustine 16 centuries earlier:

I began to search for a means of gaining the strength I needed to enjoy You, but I could not find this means until I embraced the mediator between God and men, Jesus Christ.

I thank God for Augustine, for his providence in bringing him to me, and for the sentence that changed my life.

Loading...

If I had not felt certain that every additional trial was ordered by infinite love and mercy, I could not have survived my accumulated sufferings (Adoniram Judson).

From How Few There Are Who Die So Hard: The Cost of Bringing Christ to Burma.

Never was that little one more precious than when they looked their last on her baby sweetness, as they were roughly summoned the next morning and led out to die. . . . Painfully bound with ropes, their hands behind them, stripped of their outer garments, and John barefooted (he had given Betty his socks to wear), they passed down the street where he was known to many, while the Reds shouted their ridicule and called the people to come and see the execution.

Like their Master, they were led up a little hill outside the town. There, in a clump of pine trees, the Communists harangued the unwilling onlookers, too terror-stricken to utter protest—But no, one broke the ranks! The doctor of the place and a Christian, he expressed the feelings of many when he fell on his knees and pleaded for the life of his friends. Angrily repulsed by the Reds, he still persisted, until he was dragged away as a prisoner, to suffer death when it appeared that he too was a follower of Christ.

John had turned to the leader of the band, asking mercy for this man. When he was sharply ordered to kneel—and the look of joy on his face, afterwards, told of the unseen Presence with them as his spirit was released—Betty was seen to quiver, but only for a moment. Bound as she was, she fell on her knees beside him. A quick command, the flash of a sword which mercifully she did not see—and they were reunited (Mrs. Howard Taylor, The Triumph of John and Betty Stam).

John and Betty Stam left behind a three month old daughter, who they had hidden with ten dollars tucked in her blanket.

Sometimes talking about Jesus makes us vulnerable — especially if it’s done seriously and with open hearts. It makes us vulnerable because the cross of Christ declares our failures, flaws, insecurities — all the things we don’t want others to know about us — to the world. For people who want to boast in themselves, it is very difficult to boast in Christ.

But merely talking about Christ and boasting in Christ are different things. It is far too easy for us to cover up our insecurities by talking about Christ without boasting in him. We discuss things in very theoretical, theological ways. We make generalizations and speak in broad terms rather than speaking about our own needs. We choose safe, stale language to describe ourselves rather than heart-felt language which opens us up to mockery or criticism. We maintain a veneer of control over our lives despite the fact that our hearts are full of turmoil. We fail to talk about someone we love and instead talk about facts concerning him.

The problem is quite often not what we say but how we say it. We are masters at dodging the guilt and shame we’re due. And we do it because we are more afraid of the sinners we speak to than we are in love with the One we speak about.

But Paul did something entirely different. He boasted in his weaknesses in order to glorify Christ (2 Corinthians 12:9-10). When we aren’t most vulnerable, Christ isn’t most glorified because he died for us while we were yet weak. Be vulnerable for Christ’s sake.

“What do you think? A man had two sons. And he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ And he answered, ‘I will not,’ but afterward he changed his mind and went. And he went to the other son and said the same. And he answered, ‘I go, sir,’ but did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Truly, I say to you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes go into the kingdom of God before you. For John came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him. And even when you saw it, you did not afterward change your minds and believe him (Matthew 21:28-32).

In the mind of a first century Jew, prostitutes and tax collectors were the worst sinners in the world. They were the outcasts, the rodents of society. Things haven’t changed much in our time. Prostitution, in the minds of most, ranks among the greatest of disrespectable sins. But Jesus had some shocking words for the respected individuals of his time: “The tax collectors and the prostitutes go into the kingdom of God before you.” …

Read the rest of this entry »

Why do I have such a hard time trusting Christ, without whom there is no joy and in whom all joy abides? Why would I seek water from any other fountain? They are but broken cisterns, but, in him, life wells up so abundantly that it cannot help but to pour forth over everything in his presence, like a tidal wave bursting out onto a desert, bringing life to a desolate land.

Is that not enough? Will those who are thirsty say to the sea, “You are not enough”? Do those who are hungry curse the bread which has been given to them? What traveler who is weary refuses a bed on which to rest?

Why are you downcast, O my soul? Hope in God!

The bride eyes not her garment,
But her dear Bridegroom’s face;
I will not gaze at glory
But on my King of grace.

Anne Cousin, The Sands of Time are Sinking