Pasturescott Archives - Page 10 of 27

secrets between friends

[6 minutes]

Feast your eyes a moment on this surprising promise from the Psalms:

The friendship of the LORD is for those who fear him, and he makes known to them his covenant.
Psalm 25:14

I’m blessed with a close circle of friends. They know less about me than Sandy but far more than anyone else. They are trusted confidants and counselors; a few know my secret burdens and carry them in their hearts and into their prayer rooms. They know God, God knows them, and they know me.

The psalmist (David) had a friendship with God that would make any of us swoon. A man after God’s own heart, the Lord reminds us more than once. They shared secrets. God knew David’s best and worst moments and David was dialed in to God’s heart like no one else who ever lived. Abraham knew God as a close friend and Moses knew Yahweh face to face. But David was entwined with God’s very heart.

The word “friendship” in the above verse is weighty. In the original it suggests being in one’s inner circle. It describes a relationship in which one feels confident confiding in or telling closely guarded secrets to the other.

Wouldn’t it be something to be the person that God always finds in a crowded room? Picture this: you’re in a place that is buzzing with activity and suddenly He leans in and whispers something that lights up your soul. In a room full of people, you are the one he picks. How cool would that be?

I’m not talking about God playing favorites. It’s just that you’ve proven yourself to be trustworthy and loyal over time and He sees your sincerity. He taps into that. Just as the squeaky wheel gets the oil, the hungry heart gets the meal.

One of the proverbs says, “It’s the glory of God to conceal a matter, but the glory of kings to search out a matter.” This is what I’m getting at.

There are forty-eleven ways I could go with this, but I’m focusing on only one today: getting the people of God into the Word of God for the good of their souls and glory of God.

Instagram verses aren’t bad — at all. But they’re crumbs. I don’t mean that negatively, for they do serve a purpose. Bible memes should be used as appetizers for a bigger feast. What I’m talking about is spreading an open Bible on your lap and devouring portions of scripture until one of them spurs a thought that transcends normal ditties. Until God presses in and whispers something sacred into your spirit.

Here now, I’m not imploring us legalistically but rather lovingly. Treating God’s Word as an occasional snack will lead to spiritual emaciation and weakness. There is a famine in the church today and we’ll not fare well within this weird world until we become people whom God finds in a crowded, noisy room, pulls us into Himself, and instructs us.

Isaiah warned us about tromping through the minefields of life without proper intel. He offered a better way when he said,

And though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself anymore, but your eyes shall see your Teacher. And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.
Isaiah 30:20-21

Scripture are the very words of the Eternal God. Peter told Jesus the only thing keeping him hanging tough in a fluid world were the words with which the Savior shepherded him. Those jots and tittles were life to the wobbly disciple.

We wonder why we don’t get more out of our Bible reading. It’s awfully dry for our taste. Why isn’t the ink more wet?? Could it be that we aren’t approaching His Word with the desperateness and reverence of Peter? Where else will I find what’s true and real and living?

You’re not going to find it on the back of a cereal box or in a tweet. No celebrity preacher can fill the dearth in your soul. We may get crumbs but we’ll never get change.

Your words were found, and I ate them, and your words became to me a joy and the delight of my heart.

—Jeremiah 15:16

“A joy.” Yeah, that’s it. Let us go to the Word with that on our lips. Make your Word a joy to my heart today, Jesus. Tell me something I don’t know. Amen.

Christian people will attend conventions, plunge into all kinds of Christian work, read many good books about the Bible and Christian living; but they give the Bible itself the most cursory and superficial heed. And it is for this reason that the Bible does not speak to them.
If you would know all the wondrous beauty of a forest glade, you must not be satisfied with passing through it with hasty foot and in company with a troop of merry children whose ringing laughter carries panic into the hearts of thousands of shy living things that, with trembling hearts, keep still in hole and brake and nest. No, you must go alone and sit quietly down on the log of some felled tree and wait. Then the mystery of beauty will begin to unfold itself: the fairy bowers, the mossy glens, the interlacing boughs. Presently a note will sound from yonder bough, as the signal for the outburst of many sweet-voiced choristers, and the woodland will ring with the music of the birds while the squirrel runs up some neighboring tree, and the rabbits come out to feed, and the young foxes play about their holes.
All this is hidden from those who cannot wait. So there are mysteries of glory and beauty in Scripture hidden from the wise and prudent but revealed to babes. There is no book that will so repay time spent over its pages as the Word of God.
If the people who are now perpetually running about to meetings for crumbs of help and comfort, would only stay at home and search their Bibles, there would be more happiness in the Church and more blessing on the world.
– F. B. Meyer

That’s it for now. Hope it helps.

Selah, beloved.

put down your sword

[5 minutes]

Sandy and I had an argument on the way home from church recently. I know what you’re thinking: ‘What did she do now?’ Now, now. In her defense all she did was tell me something completely innocent and I responded in an argumentative way.

To bring you up to speed: I’m tired of waiting for a breakthrough. I keep thinking I could nudge it along by just taking the bull by the horns. Because I felt that Sandy was being much too passive (a better person than I would say gracious), I *might* have deposited my two cents’ worth about not doing the situation any favors by letting it fester. On the Lord’s Day, no less.

Question: Have you ever thought the Almighty needed a little extra help on being a better God and you just so happened to be the right person for the job?

No? Just me?

If there’s a Complaint Dept. in heaven, I’m sure I get the collective eye roll when my name comes up on Caller ID. My prickly side keeps showing up and I can’t seem to stop myself from butting my head against the concrete wall in front of me. Fortunately, there’s a Bible verse for pretty much any wall you’re butting up against. And, since I’m so hard-headed, the Lord saw fit to give me a pair of them the day after I reacted poorly to Sandy.

Aside: I’m pretty sure Jesus keeps certain scriptures holstered for me on just such occasions.

The first Bible verse with which the Lord got my attention is located near the end of Romans:

For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.
Rom. 15:4

Endurance.

What a powerful, necessary word.

Andrée Seu defines “endurance” as “faith with Nikes on.” William Barclay informs us that “endurance is not just the ability to bear a hard thing, but to turn it into glory.” That’s really good.

Paul is rounding out his letter with some holistic encouragement for the diverse gathering of saints in Rome. What’s most on his mind in those final strokes of his literary masterpiece? He tells them to endure. What’s even better, he lets them know in the very next verse (Rom 15:5) that God is a “God of endurance and encouragement.” IOW, we aren’t just counseled to endure, we’re told we get our endurance from God!

When we’ve been hit by the struggle bus, we are promised a bottomless pool of God’s grace from which to draw. Do you see how he puts “endurance” side-by-side with “encouragement” in verse 15? Write this down, beloved:

The Lord never calls us into any hardship without offering his comforting presence and strengthening grace in the midst of it.

Endure, Scott, Jesus told me. If you will trust my way and wait for all the pieces to fall together, you will see glory come from it.

I mentioned I have two scriptures to share with you. This one brought it all home for me.

And behold, one of those who were with Jesus stretched out his hand and drew his sword and struck the servant of the high priest and cut off his ear. Then Jesus said to him, “Put your sword back into its place. For all who take the sword will perish by the sword. Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once send me more than twelve legions of angels? But how then should the Scriptures be fulfilled, that it must be so?”

Matthew 26:51-54

Jesus’s rebuke of Peter in Gethsemane has more to do with recognizing a spirit of unbelief and rebellion in Peter rather than a righteous defense of an innocent victim. Jesus scolded Peter for trying to play the hero. For God! Such audacity! What nerve! Peter was clearly not happy with the turn of events, so he tried to rewrite the script (v54) all on his own.

Lord, deliver us — deliver me — from #SimonPeterSyndrome.

May we learn the lesson that trying to force God’s hand to move the process along never ends well. Such tactics, as Simon demonstrated, is not heroism, but a form of unbelief. Jesus had already prepared the Twelve three separate times that a night like this was going to happen. When God tells you what must take place, it isn’t up for discussion or a vote.

So, back to that unfortunate turn-of-events on the Sunday at hand. You’ve gotta know I pray over Sandy every day. There is a set prayer that I use, and I never deviate from the script I believe God prompted me to follow. It is very specific. Other prayers are added to it, depending on the day or situation, but the main prayers are ironclad. All of which makes this whole Sunday argument the stupidest thing on earth. I got mad at Sandy FOR DOING THE VERY THINGS I HAVE BEEN PRAYING FOR HER TO LIVE OUT.

Am I the just the dumbest?

I discovered something about that day I fussed at my wife. I learned while I’ve been surrendering ourselves to do and live God’s will in a very hard place, I’ve been holding a sword in my hand. This isn’t the way of Jesus.

When my Bible reading schedule took me to the Romans text, and then the Matthew passage, I heard Jesus, in no uncertain terms say: “Don’t you think I know what I’m doing and can handle matters without your help, thank you very much? Put your sword down.”

Lord, forgive me. Please. Deliver me from Simon Peter syndrome.

How will your will ever get done with me in the way?!?!?

Whew boy. Nailed once again by the Word of the Lord. This is getting to be a habit.

Put down your sword, whatever you’re up against. Endure in the hardship. And be encouraged. It’s a whole lot better — and less bloody — than lopping off ears.

Selah, beloved.

the book that understands me

[7.5 minute read]

For the word of God is alive and powerful. It is sharper than the sharpest two-edged sword, cutting between soul and spirit, between joint and marrow. It exposes our innermost thoughts and desires.
Hebrews 4:12

Two men. One, a former president, fashioned a Bible to his own liking; the other, a French professor, tried to do that but was ultimately pierced through by its unconquerable swordplay and aliveness.

Thomas Jefferson thought the supernatural and miraculous works of Jesus were greatly exaggerated, so he took a razor to them in his New Testament. Once he had trimmed away all but the most core and basic teachings of Jesus, he sat back and sighed, satisfied with his compact version he named The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth.

The Jefferson Bible, is an 86-page dumbed-down testament of Enlightened Man. It disregards Jesus’s virgin birth, resurrection, and ascension, along with anything else that defied common sense and reason. Or so thought the 77-year old American statesman.

Across the sea, Émile Cailliet was born in Dampierre, France on December 17, 1894. He served in the French armed forces in World War I, and distinguished himself with many degrees from two universities. After coming to America, he served as a professor French literature at the University of Pennsylvania; Scripps College and Claremont Graduate School in California; and Wesleyan University in Connecticut. In 1960, he began to teach Christian philosophy at Princeton Theological Seminary, in which capacity he continued until his death in 1983.

The following is his remarkable story (in his own words) of coming to faith through the supernatural appeal of the Word of God:

I was born in a small village of France and received an education that was naturalistic to the core. This could possibly have had a great deal to do with the fact that I did not even see a Bible before I reached the age of twenty-three.
To say that this naturalistically inspired education proved of little help through front-line experiences as a lad of twenty in World War I would amount to quite an understatement. When your own buddy – at the time speaking to you of his mother – dies standing in front of you, a bullet in his chest, what use is the sophistry of naturalism? Was there a meaning to it all?
One night a bullet got me, too. An American field ambulance crew saved my life and later the use of a badly shattered arm was restored. After a nine-month stay at the hospital, I was discharged and resumed graduate work.
During my stay at the American hospital, I had married a Scotch-Irish girl whom I had met in Germany on Christmas Eve the year before the war had broken out. She was, and has always remained, a deeply evangelical person. I am ashamed to confess that she must have been hurt to the very core of her being as I made it clear that religion would be taboo in our home. Little did I realize at the time that a militant attitude often betrays an inner turmoil.
I had returned to my books, but they were no longer the same books. Neither was my motivation the same motivation. Reading in literature and philosophy, I found myself probing in depth for meaning. During long night watches in the foxholes, I had in a strange way been longing – I must say it, however queer it may sound – for a book that would understand me.
But I knew of no such book. Now I would in secret prepare one for my own private use. And so, as I went on reading for my courses I would file passages that would speak to my condition, then carefully copy them in a leatherbound pocket book I would always carry with me. The quotations, which I numbered in red ink for easier reference, would mead me as it were from fear and anguish, through a variety of intervening stages, to supreme utterances of release and jubilation.
The day came when I put the finishing touch to “the book that would understand me,” speak to my condition, and help me through life’s happenings. A beautiful, sunny day it was. I went out, sat under a tree, and opened my precious anthology. As I went on reading, however, a growing disappointment came over me. Instead of speaking to my condition, the various passages reminded me of their context, of the circumstances of my labor over their selection.
Then I knew that the whole undertaking would not work, simply because it was of my own making. It carried no strength of persuasion. In a dejected mood, I put the little book back in my pocket.
At that very moment, my wife – who, incidentally, knew nothing of the project on which I had been working – appeared at the gate of the garden, pushing the baby carriage.
It had been a hot afternoon. She had followed the main boulevard only to find it too crowded. So she had turned to a side street which she could not name because we had only recently arrived in town. The cobblestones had shaken the carriage so badly that she had pondered what to do. Whereupon, having spotted a patch of grass beyond a small archway, she had gone in with the baby for a period of rest.
It turned out that the patch of grass led to an outside stone staircase which she had climbed without quite realizing what she was doing. At the top, she had seen a long room, door wide open. So she entered.
At the further end, a white-haired gentleman worked at a desk. He had not become aware of her presence. Looking around, she noticed the carving of a cross. Thus she suddenly realized that this office was a part of a church building – of a Huguenot church edifice hidden away as they all are, even long after the danger of persecution has passed. The venerable-looking gentleman was the pastor.
She walked to his desk and heard herself say, “Have you a Bible in French?”
He smiled and handed over to her a copy, which she eagerly took from his hand; then she walked out with a mixed feeling of both joy and guilt.
As she now stood in front of me, she meant to apologize, but I was no longer listening to her.
“A Bible, you say? Where is it? Show me. I have never seen one before!”
She complied. I literally grabbed the book and rush to my study with it. I opened and “chanced” upon the Beatitudes! I read, and read, and read – now aloud with an indescribable warmth surging within. I could not find words to express my awe and wonder. And suddenly the realization dawned upon me: this was the book that would understand me!
I continued to read deeply into the night, mostly from the Gospels. And lo and behold, as I looked through them, the One of whom they spoke, the One who spoke and acted in them became alive to me.
The providential circumstances amid which the book had found me now made it clear that while it seemed absurd to speak of a book understanding a man, this could be said of the Bible because its pages were animated by the presence of the living God and the power of his mighty acts. To this God I prayed that night, and the God who answered was the same God of whom it was spoken in the book.
(Eternity magazine, July 1974).

The Book of books is alive and powerful. It doesn’t just “understand us,” it enlightens and enlivens us to know God intimately and equips us to thrive in this hard, unyielding world. As H.B. Charles, Jr. put it so well, “It is the will of God to have the Spirit of God use the Word of God to make the children of God look like the Son of God.”

May his Word accomplish its perfect work in you and me today.

Selah, beloved.