Be patient, therefore, brothers, until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and the late rains. You also be patient.

- James 5:7-8

I struggle with the sin of impatience. I want things done now. I want things done fast. I want fast results. Patience is a virtue, and I’m afraid I am often lacking it!

The most difficult aspect of patience for the laborer in God’s kingdom is that we want to see discipleship results. Walking with people can be a long and arduous journey. We get frustrated at the slowness of our own sanctification, and sometimes wonder if our efforts for others are in vain.

In James’ letter of challenge and encouragement to the Jewish believers in Jesus who were scattered in foreign lands, he encouraged his readers was by reminding them of two things:

1. Jesus is coming again.

2. What you are doing now is not in vain.

First, Jesus is coming again. James does not want to dampen our expectation and sense of anticipation for Jesus’ coming. Of course we hope the Lord will come. James assures us that the Lord will come and when He does, He will execute justice. We will be rescued, vindicated in the presence of those who have not believed in Christ as Lord.

Secondly, James paints the picture of the farmer who waits patiently until harvest time. We are to continue working for the Lord, laboring for His kingdom, with the assurance that the harvest will come.

What does this mean for us today? We shouldn’t expect immediate results in our labor for the kingdom. Sometimes, we need patience and perseverance. We know that Jesus is coming again. We know our work for him is not in vain. And so we continue on, waiting patiently both for his coming and for his reward.

Prayer: Lord Jesus Christ, fill us with patience and perseverance. Grant that we might serve you and your kingdom, always looking for your coming. Prepare us for your presence. Prepare us for the age to come.

The ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with singing.
- Isaiah 35:9

“Houston, we have a problem.” Those famous words from the commander of the failed Apollo 13 mission in 1970 were immortalized by Tom Hanks in the successful movie version that told the story of the astronauts’ harrowing return back to earth.

The astronauts had a mission. They were going to the moon, but something went horribly wrong. They couldn’t fulfill their mission. They had to turn back, and the astronauts of Apollo 13 just barely made it back to earth alive.

We too were created for a mission. We were created to reflect the glory of our Creator God in how we relate, how we work, how we rest, and how we rule wisely over the earth.

Yet something has gone horribly wrong. We have rejected our mission and exchanged it for lies. We have chosen to reflect other things. We worship whatever is not God. “Houston, we have a problem.” And that sin problem has sent us spiraling out of control.

The good news is that God is mighty to save. He rescues us from our sin. He showers us with His mercy instead of His wrath. Jesus’ blood pays our ransom. Though sin may hold us back, flinging us back to earth and keeping us now from completely fulfilling our mission to glorify God, we hold fast to the promise of God – that “The ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with singing.”

I love that verse. I want to soak in the truth of that verse… to let that promise fuel my obedience.

The day is coming when we will fully reflect the majesty and purity of the God in whose image we are made. That’s why we sing of His love now. We sing of His salvation. Soon we will glorify Jesus face to face – savoring His majesty, His righteousness, His love and grace for all eternity.

Kingdom people sing now of Christ’s salvation in anticipation of the day we will see Him face to face.

“Follow Me.”

He could have been talking to the brightest, most well-educated man He found. He could’ve been speaking with a businessman who had seen enormous success, so much so that the money from a potential partnership would more than pay for His expenses. He could’ve been talking to those who would’ve led a militia and fought for Him as king.

Once may be a surprise. Twice is a strange coincidence. Three times is definitely a pattern. Whom is He calling now? The fishermen who left their nets and their families behind – they were strange enough. The tax collector who left behind his life of bribery and extortion – that was daring enough. But perhaps this next summons is most shocking of all.

Two thousand years later. In a different time, in a different place. But it’s the same Galilean voice.

You have people to see, meetings to attend, children to tend to, parents to mind, activities you are trying to press into an already squeezed schedule. And yet quietly walking past you in the midst of your struggle, in spite of your sin, He issues His royal summons.

That’s the difference between Christianity as it should be and Christianity as it has become. We live in a world where many Christians still live for themselves. When “Follow Me” means “Let Me make you happy.” When “I have come to give life” means “I’ll give you money.” When “I have called you My friends” means “We can steer this life together.” When the royal summons to follow the King turns into a private devotion to buddy Jesus.

And in this crumbling world around us, beautiful even now despite the horrors that take place within it, Jesus is still calling. He invites us to take the journey behind Him, to allow His cloak of righteousness to cover our sin as we walk closely behind. Step by step.

Jesus invites us to the religious experience of a lifetime, precisely because this journey is not about having a religious experience. Adventure is promised, but not just the thrill-seeking adventure we desire, a way of satisfying our innate need for something bigger than ourselves. Adventure comes because that innate need is only met when we realize that Christianity is not about us; it’s not about my personal religious faith that I practice in the prayer closet;  and it’s not about my secure, prepared heavenly afterlife. Granted, all those get thrown into the mix. But the center of Christianity is the Christ  the “ianity” follows.

The summons is a royal one. The Messiah has beckoned. The King has spoken.

Each morning, as we wake up and our feet hit the floor, we ought to remember – “I’ve been summoned. Today belongs to my King.”

He was raised between the heaven and the earth, as though both rejected Him, despised by men and refused by God.

And as though abuse were not vile enough, they covered Him with spittle.

And as though spittle were not contemptuous enough, they plucked out His beard.

And as though plucking out his beard was not brutal enough, they drove in great nails.

And as though the nails did not pierce deeply enough, He was crowned with thorns.

And as though the thorns were not agonizing enough, He was pierced through with a Roman spear.

It was earth’s saddest hour, and it was humanity’s deepest, darkest day.

At three o’clock in the afternoon it was all over.  The Lord of life bowed His head and the light of the world flickered out.

Tread softly around the cross, for Jesus is dead.  Repeat the refrain in hushed and softened tones: the Lord of life is dead.

The lips that spoke forth Lazarus from the grave are now stilled in the silence of death, and the head that was anointed by Mary of Bethany is bowed with its crown of thorns.

The eyes that wept over Jerusalem are glazed in death, and the hands that blessed little children are nailed to a tree.

And the feet that walked on the waters of blue Galilee are fastened to a cross, and the heart that went out in compassionate love and sympathy for the poor and the lost of the world is now broken; He is dead.

The infuriated mob that cried for His crucifixion gradually disperses; He is dead.

And the passersby who stop just to see Him go on their way; He is dead.

The Pharisees, rubbing their hands in self-congratulation, go back to the city; He is dead. 

And the Sadducees, breathing sighs of relief, return to their coffers in the temple; He is dead.

The centurion assigned the task of executing Him, makes his official report to the Roman procurator, “He is dead.” 

And the four, the quaternion of soldiers sent to dispatch the victims, seeing the Man on the center cross was certainly dead, brake not His bones, but pierced Him through with a spear; He is dead.

And Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus of the Sanhedrin go personally to Pontius Pilate and beg of the Roman governor His body, because He is dead. 

Mary His mother and the women with her are bowed in sobs and in tears; He is dead.  

And the eleven apostles, like frightened sheep, crawl into eleven shadows to hide from the pointing finger of Jerusalem and they cry, “He is dead!” 

Wherever His disciples met, in an upper room, or on a lonely road, or behind closed doors, or in hiding places, the same refrain is sadly heard, “He is dead. He is in a tomb, they have sealed the grave and set a guard; He is dead.”

It would be almost impossible for us to enter into the depths of despair that gripped their hearts.

Simon Peter, the rock, is a rock no longer.

And James and John, the sons of Boanerges, are sons of thunder no longer.

And Simon the Zealot is a zealot no longer.

He is dead, and the hope of the world has perished with Him.

Then, then, then…

- W. A. Criswell

The cross offers a glimpse into the heart of a God who is willing to be with us in death and suffering. But we need more than a God who knows our pain. We need mercy for our own contributions to the pain in the world. Christ’s death is not merely a picture of God with us. It is also a picture of a God willing to stand in our place.

Jesus Christ dies instead of us. He not only identifies with our suffering caused by our sin; He also enters into our sorrow and makes it His own. He takes our sin and its consequences upon Himself so that we can be free. He experiences the full force of God’s wrath toward sin in order that we might be saved. Only the cross satisfies God’s demand for justice and our desire for mercy.

Picture the first humans in the garden of Eden in uninterrupted fellowship with God and each other. They are called to do the will of God, but they disobey. Not your will, Lord, but mine! decides Adam, lurching forward to take the fruit. Thousands of years later, another garden is before us—Gethsemane. The Second Adam agonizes over the will of God, shrinking back from the cup of God’s wrath, the cup He must drink for His sinful people to be spared. Not my will, Lord, but yours! He decides.

The essence of Adam’s sin was that he put himself in God’s place. The essence of Christ’s obedience is that He put Himself in our place. Because of His life in our place, and His death in our stead, we are freed from our sins.

When the Romans crucified criminals in the first century, it was customary for them to nail an accusation list to the cross. The list informed people why this person was being crucified. When Jesus died, God took the accusations that Satan brings against us—all our failures and mistakes, our willful rebellion, and our constant inability to keep God’s law—and God nailed those accusations to the cross of His Son. So Jesus Christ died there on Calvary, bearing your sin and mine; the accusations that should be hurled against us were hurled against Him instead.

On the cross, God demonstrated His perfect justice and His great mercy. He executed justice by pouring out His wrath against sin upon His only Son. He showed mercy by absorbing that wrath Himself, thus allowing us to escape His judgment.

Because Jesus was filled with horror and cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” we are filled with wonder and cry, “My God, my God, why have you accepted me?”

Because Jesus cried, “Father, forgive!” the taunts we hurled at Him on the cross are transformed into praise for His generous mercy.

Because Jesus said, “I thirst,” we can drink from the fountain of living water and never thirst again.

Because Jesus said, “Woman, behold your son,” and felt the pain of separation from His earthly family, we can experience the blessing of being united with a heavenly family.

Because Jesus cried, “It is finished!” our new life can begin.

Because Jesus committed His spirit into the Father’s hands, God commits His Spirit into our hearts.

Jesus is the Passover Lamb—the substitute that protects us from the wrath of God. He experienced the curse of God, the punishment for sin, the hellish torments of eternal damnation—all for the glory of God and the salvation of His people.

- from Counterfeit Gospels, 97-98.

2. When I pray, am I more likely to pray for God’s judgment on others rather than marvel at God’s amazing grace toward me?

3. Am I overly critical toward others while I give myself a pass or an excuse and justify my own sin?

5. Do I have people whom I allow to hold me accountable for my sin and unforgiving heart?

9. When others see how I deal with people, will they think God is mighty to save or that God would never forgive them and there is no hope for forgiveness?

10. Do I receive correction humbly?

11. Before I correct others, do I spend time in God’s Word and prayer asking the Holy Spirit to expose my sin so that I might repent?

My father-in-law’s cancer is back, and right when he was feeling up to traveling to the United States to visit. It’s hard. We’ve shed tears. Being an ocean away from one side of the family is never easy, but the distance is felt even more acutely when a loved one is ill.

It reminds me a little of childbirth (not that I would know from personal experience!). Standing next to my wife as she gave birth to our children, I saw how difficult and painful the process was for her. And yet both of us were filled with excitement. She groaned in pain, but she knew the pain was purposeful. New life was coming. There was rejoicing in the pain.

Neither is it helpful to merely accept pain and suffering as if it’s just the way of this world—That’s just the way it is.

Holding firm to these three truths helps us see beyond the suffering. We must not minimize the pain of the present. Neither must we imagine that our present circumstances are forever. Instead, a kingdom mindset expands our horizons and helps us see our present pain in light of our future glory.

We rejoice in suffering, not because we get a kick out of pain, and not because we’re in denial, but because we know what’s coming. We’re in the birth pangs of the world, and the kingdom is on its way. So we rejoice! And by rejoicing, we show the world that Christ is all we need.

It’s Wednesday night, and I’m helping our kids get their shoes on, jackets on, and Bibles ready as we’re about to rush to church. I hustle them out the door, tell Corina we’re waiting for her in the car, and then load them into the van.

At this, the weariness of the day overcomes Timothy, and the vision of such independence overwhelms him. He wails. Big tears coming down.

I sigh, put my hand to my head, and try not to smile. So much for waxing philosophically. Now, it’s time to reassure him.

Afterward, Corina and I were talking about that conversation, laughing about how the thought of independence overwhelmed our son. As adults, we can look ahead to his future and can envision him as an independent young man, mature in his faith, making wise choices.

Sometimes I’ve wondered why God doesn’t reveal the specific plan He has for all of our lives. Now, I realize it’s a good thing He doesn’t. We wouldn’t be able to handle it. We’d cry like an overwhelmed kid if we knew the specifics of His plans for us. We’d wonder how in the world He will manage to make us resemble Christ in so many surprising ways.

And the thought of the suffering, pain, and responsibility it will take to get us there – to form us into that kind of person… well, if college is enough to overwhelm a 7-year-old, then maybe the specifics of how we will become more like Christ over a lifetime would be too much to handle.

Better instead to take our baby steps as we wobble down the journey of life, basking in our Father’s good pleasure, trusting in His Son’s sacrifice when we fall, and leaning on the power of the Spirit to pick us back up again and to help us continue the walk.

God gives us the big picture of our future. And it’s glorious!

But He chooses not to fill in all the details for us. And that’s a good thing.

“Or what woman who has 10 silver coins, if she loses one coin, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? When she finds it, she calls her women friends and neighbors together, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, because I have found the silver coin I lost!’ I tell you, in the same way, there is joy in the presence of God’s angels over one sinner who repents.”(Luke 15:8-10, HCSB)

The woman in Jesus’ story used a lamp to aid in the search for the missing coin. The windows were small, narrow slats in the wall near the roof that let in little light. Sweeping would have to play a part in the search as well, since the floor would often contain ridges in which a coin could easily get lodged. Jesus describes how this housewife diligently persists in doing all that is necessary to find her lost coin.

But by welcoming to His table of fellowship those labeled “unclean” according to the Jewish law, Jesus appeared to be celebrating the coming of the kingdom with all the wrong people. He didn’t bow to the religious elite; instead, He was proclaiming the good news of the kingdom among the poor, the vulnerable, the outcasts, those who had compromised with Rome or who had been living in sin. The change brought about in these lives through “repentance” (the turning away from sin to the way of life Jesus demanded) was the reason for celebration. God was indeed setting the captives free, even if all this was happening in ways the religious people of Jesus’ day had not expected.

“Why does a doctrine like the Trinity matter?” some ask. After all, the idea of one God existing eternally as three Persons is complex. A brief survey of Christian theology will show you that most heresies are heresy precisely because they get the Trinity wrong.

Even more… is it possible to completely understand the Trinity anyway? If finite human beings are unable to fully exhaust the teaching of the Trinity and full explanations are impossible, then why is it important to get the Trinity right?

Gregory of Nazianzus said in the 4th century:

“It is difficult to conceive God, but to define him in words is an impossibility.”

So words may help us along in our effort, but God will not be bound by them.

Why Bother?

When face to face with such complexity, some may wonder, Why even bother? If the Trinity is so difficult to understand, why spend so much time on it?

The answer is love. Those who love God desire to know Him personally and to know more about Him.

My wife is a complex person. I readily admit that I do not know everything there is to know about her. There are times when I simply cannot figure her out. But my love for her causes me to want to know her better.

If a husband sometimes has a hard time figuring out his wife, surely the human attempt to understand God will be even more difficult. But consider this: if I find great reward in growing in my knowledge of my wife, how much bigger will the reward be for us to grow in our knowledge of the Almighty God!

An Exercise in Love

Understanding the Trinity is not a pointless theological exercise. It is an exercise in love. We are plumbing the depths of the One who loved us enough to create us and then save us. Where our explanations and definitions fail, we go back to our knees.

Isaac Watts ended his Trinitarian hymn “We Give Immortal Praise” with these words:

“Almighty God, to thee be endless honors done,
the undivided three, and the mysterious one.
Where reason fails with all her powers,
there faith prevails, and love adores.”

Bernard of Clairvaux once said:

“It is rashness to search too far into [the mystery of the Trinity]. It is piety to believe it. It is life eternal to know it. And we can never have a full comprehension of it, till we come to enjoy it.”

Indeed. All theological reflection on the Trinity should have as its ultimate end the purposeful enjoyment of the Triune God.