The Gospel Coalition

     The hand of the Lord was on me, and he brought me out by the Spirit of the Lord and set me in the middle of a valley. . . . I saw a great many bones on the floor of the valley, bones that were very dry. He asked me, “Son of man, can these bones live?” I said, “Sovereign Lord, you alone know.” Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord.’” Ezek. 37:1-6

Dear heavenly Father, I would do well to meditate on this portion of your Word once a month—no, make that at least once a week. For it “calls out” my unbelief, confronts my complacency, and deconstructs every excuse I offer for giving up on spiritual dryness and discouraging situations.

Many of us hurt for churches, friends and marriages that fulfill Ezekiel’s description of piles of dry, breathless bones. Some of us put ourselves right in the center of the prophet’s vision. Vibrant green has become ashen grey. The music and dance of the gospel have faded away. Delight in the Lord has been replaced with disconnect, distrust, and for some, despair.

But it’s not Ezekiel who asks about the possibility of renewal, redemption, and restoration; it’s you, Father. It’s you! “Can these bones live?” you ask. The question is rhetorical, for you are the God of resurrection! I’ll not presume on the process, but I’ll trust in your great promises.

Father, for your glory, I ask you to breathe on the bone-dry marriages of a few dear friends. I pray the same for a few pastor-friends of mine and their church families. Where there’s little life, and less hope left, bring a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit and a renewed affections for Jesus. Do what you alone can do as God. Things impossible with us are more than possible with you!

What but the love of Jesus can transform stubborn hearts into supple hearts; what but your grace can replace mean with mercy; what but the Spirit’s power can supplant self-protective willfulness with gospel willingness? Who but Jesus can transform cold antipathy into kindhearted intimacy? These are my rhetorical questions, Father, for I know of no other hope for cold marriages, dead churches, or hard hearts but Jesus and his great love lavished on us in the gospel.

Indeed, Lord Jesus, you are the resurrection and life. Today, on this Pentecost Sunday, I pray with joy and anticipation. You are actively making all things new! Bring life—your life, to our places of dryness and death. Restore to us the joy of your salvation, the hope of your resurrection, a passion for your glory. So very Amen I pray, in the tender mercies of your great name.

     [The older brother] was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, but he answered his father, “Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!” And he said to him, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.” Luke 15:28-31

Forbearing Father, meditating through this familiar portion of your Word has taken to me a familiar place again, unfortunately. Though I’d never boast about my many years of serving you—as thought my service merits your acceptance; and I’d never think of boasting in my record of obedience to your commands—as though my works earned a relationship with you; nevertheless, I acknowledge there are times when my ingratitude matches that of the older brother.

This has become obvious to me lately, and I want to repent before it gets any worse. My best repenting happens, not when I grovel, but when I preach the gospel to my own heart, so here goes.

Father, you are constantly running to me in the gospel—inviting me, imploring me, pleading with me to get on the dance floor of your grace—to enjoy the music of reconciliation; to sing the songs of redemption; to make merry to the glory of God.

You are constantly saying to my grumbling, complaining, discontented self-righteous face, “My son, you’re always with me because I’m always with you. Nothing will ever separate you from the everlasting love I have for you, and all my children. I greatly delight in you. I rejoice over you with singing. Everything I have is yours.

All your sins are forgiven, including your gross ingratitude. I’ve declared you to be righteous in my beloved Son. Having given his life for your redemption, I’ve hidden your life in his, for your exultation. I’ve begun a good work in you, and in my whole broken world, that I will bring to completion.

I’ve made you a co-heir of the new heaven and new earth. You are destined for an eternity of perfect relationships, perfect health, a perfect environment, a perfect story, perfect worship, perfect fulfillment—perfect everything. Come, let us rejoice and be glad.”

Father, I so repent—and please don’t relent. Keep beating down my ungratefulness with multiplied love offensives of the gospel. Only grace can free me from whining for worship. So very Amen I pray, in Jesus’ peerless and praiseworthy name.

     When Daniel knew that the document had been signed, he went to his house where he had windows in his upper chamber open toward Jerusalem. He got down on his knees three times a day and prayed and gave thanks before his God, as he had done previously. Then these men came by agreement and found Daniel making petition and pleas before his God. Dan. 6:10-11

Dear heavenly Father, I am so drawn to the heart which beat in Daniel’s breast—a heart filled with praise for you, not a preoccupation with his life. He just learned of a decree that anybody praying to any other god or man but King Darius would become lions’ lunch. So what did he do? The same thing he’d been doing for decades inBabylon. The windows are open, his knees are bent, his gaze is set; and even before he asks you for help, he offers you thanks. He’s neither paranoid nor presumptuous, but he’s most definitely at peace.

What freedom, what beauty, what intimacy with you, this aging, beloved servant of yours enjoyed. But why am I surprised? Haven’t you promised, “The righteous will flourish like a palm tree, they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon; planted in the house of the Lord, they will flourish in the courts of our God. They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green”? (Ps. 92:12-14)

Father, you never demanded that Daniel get on his knees three times a day. You didn’t have to—it was his delight. No government decree could keep him from praying to you, loving you, seeking you, worshiping you. He was much more committed to your eternal glory than to his personal survival. Your grace radically reoriented his life.

Father, I long for much more of Daniel’s peace and praise mark my life—no matter how difficult my circumstances, intense the spiritual warfare, or out of control my world may feel. For even as “the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour”(1 Pet. 5:8), he’s already a defeated foe.

We live in the victorious day Daniel anticipated from afar. Indeed, your beloved Son, “the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed” (Rev. 5:5). Jesus is the Lion with whom I want to be thoroughly preoccupied—without any ultimate concern for any other kind of “lion’s den” into which I might be thrown.

Father, as I get older, please keep me fresh and green and fruitful through the gospel. Fill my heart with your glory and grace, freedom and hope; and use me however you choose, all the remaining days you give me in this, your world. So very Amen I pray, in Jesus’ magnificent and merciful name.

Whoever covers an offense seeks love, but he who repeats a matter separates close friends. Prov. 17:9

Dear Lord Jesus, rarely does the phrase “cover-up” do anything but raise suspicion, eyebrows, and ire. We recoil when we experience the manipulation of facts, the minimization of harm, and the muting of our voices, especially in the face of blatant injustice. To be either an agent or victim of this kind of cover-up is never okay.

That being said, there’s a stewardship of information—a way of handing one another’s failures, sins, and weaknesses—that requires a gospel heart. There is such a thing as a “gospel cover-up,” and I want to be much better at it. So as I meditate on this Scripture, hear my confession and my prayers.

Forgive me when I choose to uncover old offenses—by my spouse and children, or my friends and enemies—just to win an argument, gain an advantage, or minimize my own sin. When I do this, it’s as though I never really forgave them the first time.

Forgive me when I repeat someone’s offense to another friend or a number of friends under the guise of seeking prayer; when in reality I’m just gossiping or perhaps even slandering people I claim to care about. How insecure and insidious is that?

Forgive me when I keep uncovered and constantly rehearse the sins and offenses of others to myself—feeding my self-righteousness, fueling my anger, and fermenting my desire for revenge. That’s really ugly, and when I do this I’m a thief—robbing you of glory and my heart of rich fellowship with you.

Forgive me when I constantly repeat my own failures to myself—choosing to indulge my self-contempt and the accusations of Satan much more than I believe and relish the gospel. What a destructive way to do life—again, a primary way I rob you of the glory and honor you deserve, Lord Jesus.

Lord Jesus, you are the greatest and most generous lover ever; for by your blood you have once and for all covered up, covered over, and carried away our sins forever. You’ll never repeat our sinful matters to us or anyone else. You will never hold our sins against us. How I praise you today for your great and lavish love! Continue to change my heart and channel my words—by your grace and for your glory. So very Amen I pray in your holy and kind name.

     The Lord is on my side; I will not fear. What can man do to me? The Lord is on my side as my helper; I shall look in triumph on those who hate me. It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man. It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in princes. Ps. 118:6-9

Dear Lord Jesus, I’m just waking up, and though I’m yawning my way into your presence, you are fully alert and engaged. What a Savior you are! You never sleep or slumber; you never need a break or vacation; you’re never moody; you never get bored with us; you never roll your eyes and say, “When will they ever get it?” You will never look for greener pastures or better sheep. I praise you for the constancy of your love.

Jesus, it’s because your love is so unwavering that you’re easy to trust. Only you can be fully trusted. I’m painfully aware of this truth as I lean into this day. Thank you for caring—thank you for the freedom to bring whatever we’re feeling before you—the good, the bad and the ugly. The gospel is the end to all posing and pretending.

As broken people, we don’t love perfectly, yet. I get that—we fail one another in a multitude of ways. Even as grace enables us to forgive, it doesn’t make us immune to the pain of bruised trust, broken trust, or battered trust. Broken confidences and broken promises still hurt, no matter who they come from, but certainly more when they come from the very people we should be able to trust.

“What can man do to me?” the psalmist asks (Ps. 118:6). Plenty, Jesus, plenty. But with you as our refuge, with you as our very present help, with you as our advocate, intercessor, sovereign Lord, and gracious Redeemer—with you as the only prince who can be trusted, the Prince of Peace—I don’t have to grow more angry, flint hard, and dangerously isolated. Retaliation is out of the question, even as gossip and sulking are.

I bring my pain to you, Jesus. Hold me and help me deal in a godly way with the disappointment. So very Amen I pray, in your singularly trustworthy name.

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. 1 Peter 5:7

Gracious Father, I slept well last night but I awoke restless, fitful, and anxious. I know you tell me not to be anxious about anything (Phil. 4:6), but I am. Sunrise has yet to happen, yet I’m already looking forward to moonrise. Thank you for freeing me from the pressure of pretending otherwise. At least I’m not anxious about surprising, embarrassing, or disappointing you. The gospel has taken care of that old bondage and slavery.

What’s going on inside of me? There’s really nothing enormous looming on the horizon; no one major crisis staring me down; no enormous boulder I’m assigned to push up a hill like Sisyphus. It’s just one of those days I find myself looking at seventeen little backpacks of needs, issues, and hurts, lined up at my front door, waiting to be picked up.

So what will I do with my restless, fitful, anxious feelings? Father, I would surely despair if I didn’t really believe you do care for me. That would be the one unbearable burden. But please help me know what anxiety casting actually looks like today, and in the next several days.

Of these things I am certain: you’re not calling me to be the fourth member of the Trinity; I’m not the whole body of Christ; you do promise sufficient grace; you will give wisdom to those who ask; and your strength is made perfect in weakness—in my weakness. Therefore, by faith I won’t despise my brokenness; I won’t go to self-contempt; and I won’t resent people and their needs.

Show me which of the seventeen little backpacks I’m to pick up first; which ones don’t really have my name on them at all; which ones were placed there by the enemy; and which ones will just have to wait, as you give me grace not to dread disappointing people.

As you have promised, please send your transcendent peace to guard my heart and mind in Christ Jesus (Phil. 4:7). Keep me gentle, caring and expectant. The promise of daily mercies had this day in sight long, long ago. I praise, bless and honor you, dear loving, heavenly Father. So very Amen I pray, in Jesus’ trustworthy and treasured name.

     So I commend the enjoyment of life, because there is nothing better for a person under the sun than to eat and drink and be glad. Then joy will accompany them in their toil all the days of the life God has given them under the sun. Eccles. 8:15

Gracious Father, the past few weeks have been pretty demanding and depleting. I’m thankful you understand our frailties and our need for refreshment. If you never commanded Sabbath rest, I probably wouldn’t take it. And If you never commended the enjoyment of life, I’d go to the extremes of either taking simple joys for granted or worshiping pleasure altogether.

So today, I’m slowing down enough just to say thank you—thank you for designing us for pleasure—for the experience of delight. Thank you for putting sensate responders and nerve endings in our bodies. Thank you for taste buds and aesthetic wiring. You are glorified in our enjoyment. Thank you for intending that joy would accompany us in our work all the days you have given us under the sun—often exhausting, thankless, and seemingly, fruitless work.

I praise you for the alluring aroma of baking bread and fresh coffee. I praise you for my wife’s kind touch and my grandson’s infectious giggle. I praise you for the “Ooh”-producing texture of cheese cake and the “Ahh”-generating taste of flour-less dark chocolate cake. I praise you for low humidity days enveloped in rich blue skies. I praise you for the tug of a fish on the end of my line and evenings of good conversation with a handful of friends.

I praise you for the relaxing sound of ocean waves, the memory-connecting music of the sixties; the well-timed greeting of a friend; and how good it feels to finish a walk and start a new book. I praise you for the permanent smile on the face of a dolphin; the never-the-same array of sunrises and sunsets; the precise ways you show up when I need you the most—like you are right now.

Father, our ongoing work under the blazing sun has meaning because of the finished work of your beloved Son. Because the gospel is true, we can glorify you now and enjoy you forever. Hallelujah, what a Savior! Hallelujah, what a salvation! So very Amen I pray, in Jesus’ holy name.

Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man against whom the Lord counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit.For when I kept silent, my bones wasted away  through my groaning all day long. Psalm 32:1-3

There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ. Rom. 8:1

Dear heavenly Father, for the welcome we receive as we come into your presence, we praise you; For the freedom to call you Abba, Father, we adore you; For the assurance of your daily mercies and steadfast love, we worship you.

There is no other god like you—none more worthy to be loved with all our heart and soul, mind and strength. You know our weaknesses, and do not despise them. You know our brokenness, and will not shame us. You know our sorrows, and are filled with compassion. You know our foolishness, and promise more grace.

With our eyes fixed on Jesus—the author and perfecter of our faith, we ask you to forgive us. Forgive us hurting people we love by our impatience and irritation, by our lack of listening and our un-kept promises. Forgive us for thinking of ourselves more highly than we ought, and thinking of others less compassionately than they deserve.

Forgive us for giving more power to what others say about us in public, than what you say about us in heaven. Forgive us for being too busy to behold your beauty in your Word; meditate on your mercies in Christ, and hear you sing to us in the gospel.

Have mercy on us, O Lord, have mercy on me. Our hope is built on nothing less, nothing more and nothing other, than Jesus’ blood and righteousness. We trust in his finished work, not in our vain promises. Amen

     Be dressed ready for service and keep your lamps burning, like servants waiting for their master to return from a wedding banquet, so that when he comes and knocks they can immediately open the door for him. It will be good for those servants whose master finds them watching when he comes. Truly I tell you, he will dress himself to serve, will have them recline at the table and will come and wait on them. Luke 12:35-37

King Jesus, through the years I’ve suffered through some horrible teaching about your second coming, most of which generated self-centered fear, gospel-less speculation, and political sensationalism. That’s hardly what you had in mind when you charged us to watch and wait for your return. But this morning, as I meditate on this passage, much of that theological rubbish and rubble is cleared away.

Jesus, I’ve never been less anxious and more ready for your return; but only because of a growing understanding of the gospel. I’m already wearing the right clothes—the wedding garment of your perfect righteousness. Indeed, I’m no longer afraid of your return; I very much want you to come back—Oh, loving bridegroom. The oil in my lamp will never run dry, for you’ve sealed me as your own and have sent the Spirit to dwell in my heart forever.

Because the gospel is true, I’m ready for service in two ways. First of all, I’m ready for you to serve me. According to the Scriptures, when you return, you will have us, your bride, “recline at the table,” and you will come and wait on us. Jesus, this is fries the circuit-board of my faith; it’s simply too much goodness to take in. I believe, Lord, but help me believe it more.

What wondrous love is this, indeed! All you’ve ever done is serve your people, Jesus—in creation and by your incarnation; through your life of perfect obedience and death of perfect sin-bearing; by your resurrection from the dead and ascension into heaven; through your heavenly intercession and sovereign rule over ALL things.

Secondly, as I consider all the ways you serve us, Jesus, your grace gives me passion and delight to serve you. Whose feet do I wash today? Whose burdens do I bear? Where and how might you use me to be a means by which your love becomes tangible and irresistible? So very Amen I pray, in your great and grace-full name.

     Grace and peace to you from him who is, and who was, and who is to come, and from the seven spirits before his throne, and from Jesus Christ, who is the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth. Rev. 1:4-5

Glorious Triune God, lately my attitude about politics in general, and the American political process in particular, has been a growing source of irritation and cynicism—a sure indication that I need the gospel to center me. This small portion of your Scripture confronts my bad attitude with your glory and grace; your might and mercy; your presence and your purposes. Nothing has greater power to convict me of my sin and help me regain perspective than your Word.

Sovereign Father, I’m greatly encouraged to remember that you are timeless in your engagement with your creation and your people. You always have been, you presently are, and you always will be the God who is working all things together after the counsel of your will. Nothing gets by you, vexes you, or threatens the execution of your eternal decrees. You never need a holiday, you never suffer from ADD, and you always bring your “A game.”

God the Holy Spirit, in your sevenfold perfection, you are constantly executing the will of the Father concerning all things—from feeding sparrows and clothing flowers; to revealing and applying the grace of Jesus; to raising up kings and putting kings down at the Father’s bidding. Nothing and no one can resist you.

Lord Jesus, you are the faithful witness who reveals everything we need to know about anything. You’ve never lied, exaggerated, or withheld any revelation we need for serving you in the world. You are the firstborn from among the dead, which means your death and resurrection are the guarantee and the firstfruits of the whole new creation order. Because you were raised from the dead, all who trust in you will be raised. In fact, the entire cosmos will be restored and brought to a grandeur of which the Garden of Eden was just a hint.

And, Jesus, you are presently the ruler of the kings of the earth. Forgive me when I pine and whine about who’s sitting in the biggest chair in the White House or the Kremlin, North Korea or China, Iran or Israel. Legitimate concerns don’t give me the right to illegitimate unbelief. The good news of your present and future reign should free us from all panic and paranoia.

It should also free us from all passivity and presumption. Show us how to live, simultaneously, as good citizens of heaven and our country. O, for the Day when your kingdom will come in fullness, your will be done perfectly, on earth as it is in heaven. So very Amen we pray, in your glorious and gracious name.