Fear

Fear

I will extol the Lord at all times; his praise will always be on my lips. I will glory in the Lord; let the afflicted hear and rejoice. Glorify the Lord with me; let us exalt his name together. I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. This poor man called, and the Lord heard him; he saved him out of all his troubles. The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and he delivers them. (Psalm 34:1-7)

When we read the Psalms, we usually think of David. And when we think of David, we see the giant killer. But a portion of the book of Samuel (1 Sam. 21: 10 – 15) give us a very different picture of David – a picture of fear. It’s the story of David fleeing from his father-in-law, King Saul, and going to Achish, king of Gath – Israel’s arch-enemy. Unfortunately for David, the servants of Achish recognize him: "Isn't this David, the king of the land? Isn't he the one they sing about in their dances: ‘Saul has slain his thousands, and David his tens of thousands?’?” Upon hearing those words, David panicked and pretended to be insane, acting like a crazed lunatic by clawing on the doors of the gate and drooling all over his beard.

By this time, Achish arrives, looks at his servants and the commotion and says, "Look at him! He’s insane! Why are you bringing him to me? Am I so short of madmen myself that you have to bring this man here to carry on like this, and right here in front of me no less? Do you think he’s coming into my house?" Seeing an opening, David runs for his life.

It’s the story of a man, struggling for many months to escape certain death at the hands of Saul, and deciding in desperation to seek asylum in the enemy’s camp. David’s thinking was that Saul wouldn’t have the audacity to pursue him into enemy territory, and the Philistines wouldn’t care if Israel was without their next king. But David's new address wasn’t the safe haven he’d hoped for. The servants of the king become suspicious and David finds himself "very much afraid of Achish."

Psalm 34 was written in response to this incident. In fact, the title of Psalm 34 is, “A Psalm of David. When he pretended to be insane before Achish, who drove him away.” Doesn’t get much plainer than that, does it? And the next Psalm, Psalm 35, is relevant, too. These two Psalms, when taken together, are a study in fear and in which the words fear or afraid appear no less than eight (8) times. Although David's immediate response to his fear was to trust in his own devices (drooling and insanity), he eventually moved beyond his fear by focusing on God's provision.

In both Psalms, David contrasts his fear of man with fearing the Lord: “I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears …. The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and he delivers them …. Fear the Lord, you his saints, for those who fear him lack nothing.” David understood that he couldn’t just simply will his fears away. The person he feared had to be displaced by something even bigger, i.e., fearing the Lord and trusting in His provision.

To trust in God is to put our complete reliance upon Him for the provision of our every need, for protection from those who would hurt or hinder us, and for guidance in future decisions. Fear of man, on the other hand, believes that another person has the ultimate power to impact our life, and then dreading the damage that person might do to us in the future. But note that both trust and fear attribute power to someone to affect our future; the only difference is the object of our fear or trust. In other words, trust and fear are virtually the same, and that’s why the Bible condemns the fear of man, but commends those who fear the Lord.

Fear subverts our confidence in God. We no longer trust Him. So, we fear elections, the economy and looming fiscal cliffs, instead. But since the fear of man essentially cedes power to human beings that rightfully belongs to God, it’s really just a form of idolatry. In other words, when we are ruled by the fear of man, those that we're afraid of usurp God's sovereign place in our lives – which forces us to confront a very practical question: “How can I be delivered from fearful idolatry into a life of trust?”

In the pagan religions of biblical times, fear and trust were always intertwined. The gods were capricious, and supplicants desperately sought to placate these angry deities to earn favor and avoid calamity. Today, our false gods may be less obvious but no less influential in the power they hold over our lives. We fear people of influence, or maybe we fear a family member, or a co-worker, or an employer, or criminals, or terrorists, or anyone else who can negatively impact our lives. And, just as the ancient pagans did, we then seek to appease those who seem to hold our fate in their hands.

At Gath, David discovered he was afraid of Achish and admitted his fears – the first step toward trusting God. And we, like David, need to identify the people that make us afraid. So, maybe we should just make a list of the names of the people we fear and offer the list to God in prayer, specifically naming each person that has an influence over our futures. Who knows? The process could very well help us recognize the idols we’ve established in God's place. And then, when we list and pray about our fears, it opens the door to our freedom from the very things and the people we fear the most.

We also need to apply the truth to our fears. In his reflections on the incident at Gath, David recorded his commitment to surrender future fearful experiences to God: "When I am afraid, I will trust in you; in God I trust, I will not be afraid." (Ps. 56: 3, 11) After his decision to trust, David then concluded, "This I know, that God is for me." (v. 9) David's perspective changed radically when he chose to look at his fears through the lens of truth. For instance, how big is God in comparison to the person we fear? How have we seen God demonstrate His alertness to our needs? How have we seen that God is for us in this situation? Answering these questions can help us apply the truth to our fears instead of fixating on them. And then, armed with the truth, we can thank God for those whom we fear. Seriously?

Sounds whacky, I know. But this step in restoring our trust in God is to thank Him for the very people who provoke our fears. Gratitude for our circumstances reminds us that God can protect us in the right way, at the right time, and for the right reasons. David understood this principle when he said, “I will present my thank offerings to you. For you have delivered me from death and my feet from stumbling.” (Ps. 56:12-13)

We easily forget how God cares for us when we fear the loss of a job or being denied a pay raise. But thankfulness frees us from the burden of our apprehension. Instead, we can pray, "Thank you, Father, for my present job situation. I am grateful that you’re using my job and my supervisor according to your purposes in my life." Then, rather than cowering before the people we fear, we can experience the transforming power of gratitude that frees us from those fears.

Look once again at Psalm 34:7: The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and he delivers them. OK, so what? Well, the phrase, “The angel of the Lord” only appears three (3) times in the Bible. Once, here, in Psalm 34, and twice in Psalm 35. It’s what theologians call a Christophany – a pre-Incarnate appearance of Jesus Christ. It was a special title used in the Old Testament for Jesus, and after the Incarnation, the phrase is never used again. The point here is that God has not only promised to deliver us, but he’s promised to give us the Deliverer himself!

In the sixth chapter of 2 Kings there’s a story about the prophet Elisha and his servant. According to the record, Elisha and his servant were staying in a town called Dothan. The problem was that the king of the neighboring country of Aram had sent his armies to destroy Dothan. (Not good if you’re staying the night at the local Holiday Inn – Dothan) And for good reason, too, because God had been revealing the military plans of the king of Aram to Elisha, and Elisha – in turn – had been taking those plans and giving them to the king of Israel. So, whenever Aram and his army showed up, Israel would give them a beat-down. Finally, the king of Aram figured out that his intelligence had been compromised and decided the best way to win the war was to take out the Israeli intelligence department, i.e., Elisha.

So, here’s Elisha and his servant in this little hick town, miles from nowhere, and during the night the Aramean army completely surrounds Dothan. And in the morning, when Elisha’s servant goes out to get some water for his master, he sees this huge Aramean army surrounding them, and they weren’t there to play nice. Understandably, the servant’s afraid and he runs back to Elisha and cries out, “What are we going to do now?” Easy. “Don’t be afraid; there’s more on our side than on theirs.” Huh?

Can’t you just see Elisha’s servant scratching his head? “Hey, boss, uh … but the last time I checked there were two of us and there’s millions of them! Did you stay up too late?” But Elisha, rather than becoming fearful, prays, “O Lord, open his eyes and let him see.” So, the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and when he looked up he saw the hillside around them filled with horses and chariots of fire. And we’re not talking about horses and chariots of fire belonging to the Aramean army. End of story.

Now, where there more with them than with the enemy? Absolutely. Well then, what was the difference? Well, they just couldn’t see them. In other words, until God opened up the eyes of the servant, he didn’t realize that the whole army of God had come to the rescue, and the Aramean army was dwarfed by comparison.

So, when we’re in the doctor’s office waiting for the diagnosis, or when we’ve received that call late at night and don’t know where to turn, or we’ve been handed a pink slip, or the foreclosure notice, or any of a million things, just remember that the angel of the Lord waits with you, listens to that call, sees that notice, reads your mail and helps you through your fears. He’s the one of whom we never have to be afraid because He’s with us; He’s always with us – even in the midst of our fears.

The one who overcame the fear of the cross draws near to us in our personal fears and we can be assured that we’re not alone. He’s promised to never leave us or forsake us, and when we’re most fear-filled, that’s when He’s nearest to us  – whether we know it or not.

Maybe we’ve just got to pray, “Dear God, please open my eyes so that I can see Him. I know He’s here, but I just need a greater sense of His presence.” And it’s then that He brings one of His people into your life; one of his ambassadors to remind you that he hasn’t forgotten about you. To remind you that fear is just an acronym for “False Evidence Appearing Real.”

Don’t be afraid.

Grace,

Randy

Thanksliving

Thanksliving

Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”

When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed.

One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him — and he was a Samaritan.

Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.” (Luke 17:11-19)

It’s a tribute to modern medicine that most of us, fortunately, don’t know much about leprosy. (I’m just guessing that you’ve never seen or known a leper) So, what we know about the disease we only know from what we’ve read in the Bible. (OK, for the really curious, you can Google the words, Hansen’s disease) But if we had lived during those times, we probably would have known a whole lot more because it was the most feared disease in Bible times. It was deadly, incurable and hopeless. The ancients feared it so much that anyone suspected of having the disease was banished from society. In fact, in the rabbinic writings of the time, there are remedies for all kinds of diseases, but there’s nothing listed for leprosy. The rabbis said that curing leprosy was like “raising the dead.” Pretty grim stuff.

So, there’s Jesus, traveling near the border of Samaria and Galilee, and it’s there where he meets a group of lepers. We don’t know precisely where this encounter took place because you can’t even find the small town on a map. But it was somewhere south of Nazareth and north of Sychar.

And it’s no surprise that Jesus would encounter these unfortunate men between Galilee and Samaria. Galilee was Jesus’ home base. He was raised there. He had family and boyhood friends there. He made his headquarters at Capernaum on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. Most of his miracles, and much of his teaching, was done in Galilee. It was the land of his greatest popularity. But Samaria? Well, that was another matter altogether.

You see, observant Jews avoided Samaria at almost all costs. The story goes back hundreds of years to the Assyrian captivity which began in 722 B.C. Some of the Jewish people had intermarried with the Assyrians and had become, in the eyes of their countrymen, half-breeds and traitors. In other words, they were unclean. Over the centuries, then, the Samaritans had become a mixed race with a mixed religion. The Jewish people hated the Samaritans, and the Samaritans’ feelings were mutual.

And it’s here, on the frontier between Galilee and Samaria, in the DMZ between the Jews and the Samaritans, that Jesus meets ten lepers. And frankly, where else could they go? The Jews didn’t want them and neither did the Samaritans. So, here’s a colony of lepers joined by their common misfortune and misery. Their only uniting characteristic is the foul disease that had cast them out of society. And, as Jesus enters the village, these men stand a long way off and cry out to him for mercy.

You see, word had spread. "He’s here,” said one of the lepers. “Who’s here?” said the other. “Jesus of Nazareth,” said the first. “Naw, I don’t believe it,” said his friend. “It’s true. He’s really here,” said the first. “Do you think he could heal us?” said another. “I don’t know, but let’s find out.” So, there they stand, the most ragged choir in all of Israel – ten lepers crying out to Jesus for mercy. “Have mercy. Have Mercy,” came the cry from lips that had seen too little mercy and too much condemnation.

So, what’s Jesus’ response? Will he heal them right then and there on the spot? That was certainly within his power, and no doubt was what the lepers had probably hoped he would do. But, instead, Jesus said something that, well … seems a little ….. unexpected. When he saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.”

Now, at first glance, you might think that Jesus was simply putting them off. You might even think that he didn’t intend to heal them at all. And if you were to come to that conclusion, you could probably infer that Jesus meant to impress upon them the utter hopelessness of their condition. But all of those inferences would be wrong. As a matter of fact, Jesus fully intended to heal them, but he also intended to do it in keeping with the demands of the Law of Moses. You see, if Jesus hadn’t sent the lepers to the priest, no one would have ever believed that the miracle had really taken place.

But that’s not the whole story here. The last part of verse 14 says that “as they went they were cleansed.” In other words, they were healed as they went to go see the priest. Not before. Not after. That means that when they left to go see the priest, they still had leprosy. Now how do you suppose they felt when Jesus said, “Go show yourselves to the priest?” Go show what to the priest? That they were still lepers?! Are you kidding me? They didn’t have anything to show the priest that he wanted to see. In fact, the last thing the priest wanted to see was ten smelly, disheveled, deformed, wretched lepers. In fact, I wonder if one of them may have even said, “Why bother? After all, once a leper, always a leper.” But off they went, this shuffling band of sufferers marching off to see the priest, maybe even doubting their healing the entire way.

So, they take one step; they’re still lepers. They take two steps; nothing happens. They take a third step; the leprosy still clings to their skin. But on that fourth step, or maybe the fifth, or maybe the hundredth, something wonderful, something unbelievable, something they never dreamed possible happened. With that next step, they were healed. Instantly. Miraculously. All ten. All at once. They were healed as they went. Not before. Not after. But in the act of going they were healed. Why? Because it was the act of going that was an act of their faith. And it didn’t matter how they felt about it. God honored their going in spite of what may have been some serious doubts along the way.

Like the lepers, our faith moves mountains when our faith moves us. When Jesus said, “Go show yourselves to the priest,” he was really saying, “Act as if you’re already healed.” What a great piece of advice! So many times we pray and pray and pray and nothing seems to happen. But when our faith, shaky though it may be, finally moves us to action, God honors it and answers begin to come.

Unfortunately, too many of us are trapped by the curse of passive religion. You know what that is, don’t you? It’s the view that says trusting God means letting him do it all. So, for instance, we pray, “Lord, I need money,” but we refuse to go out and look for a job. Passive religion uses God as an excuse to do nothing. But trusting God does not equal doing nothing. Remember: the ten lepers were healed as they went. It’s a marvelous miracle, but it’s not the end of the story. Another miracle is about to happen.

Ten were healed and only one came back to give thanks. Luke says he fell on his face before the Lord. He’s been healed of leprosy. For who knows how many years he’s been a leper living in his remote, little corner of the world, separated from his family, forgotten by his friends, cut off from his own people. But suddenly, the disease vanishes and with it the twisted limp, the crooked fingers and the atrophied muscles.

Then Luke adds, “He was a Samaritan.” The shock and amazement in that statement is such that we ought to read it this way: “Think of it! A Samaritan of all people.” Remember, Jesus was a Jew and the Jews thought Samaritans were half-breed traitors. To make matters worse, he was a Samaritan and a leper. To a Jew, you couldn’t find a more repulsive combination. He was from the wrong race, with the wrong religion, and he had the worst-possible disease. In religious speak, this Samaritan knew almost nothing, and what he knew was mostly wrong. But he knew Jesus had healed him, and he knew enough to be grateful to God. That statement is why, in my opinion, this story is in the Bible.

Now, Luke doesn’t say so directly, but I think he may have also been implying that the other nine were Jews. And if that’s true, then what this story really means is that those who should have been the most grateful weren’t. And the one man who shouldn’t have come back did. And this story pictures life as it really is. It’s a picture of the abundant grace of God. I mean, this is a wholesale cure – a whole hospital’s healed with only a word. Ten at a time. It’s a huge miracle. It’s also a picture of the prevalence of ingratitude. Nine out ten people will probably forget every blessing they’ve ever received. But it’s also a picture of unexpected grace. Grateful hearts, it seems, pop up where you least expect them.

Jesus then asks the Samaritan three questions. “Were there not ten healed?” Yes. “Where are the other nine?” Gone. “Is there no one here but this foreigner?” No one. And if you listen carefully, you can even sense a tinge of sadness in Jesus’ voice. He wanted to know about the others. Where are they? Weren’t they healed? Why didn’t they come back and say, “Thank You"? Good question. So, why didn’t they come back?

Well, maybe they were in a hurry to see the priest. Or, maybe they thought Jesus would be gone when they got back. Perhaps they assumed Jesus knew how grateful they were and they didn’t need to tell him what he already knew. I mean, he’s God after all. Or, maybe they were just too busy. So where are they now? Gone off with their blessings. Gone to see the priest. Gone to see their families. Gone with no word of thanks. Gone.

But when you really look at these ten lepers, they’re all alike aren’t they? All had leprosy. All were outcasts from society. All were determined to do something about it. All had heard about Jesus and believed he could help them. All appealed to him. All obeyed his word. All were healed. So, on the surface they appear to be identical. Yet what a difference. One returned. Nine went on. One was grateful. Nine were not. One man found forgiveness. Nine didn’t. One man got two miracles. Nine got one. All ten were healed. (That’s one miracle) But the Samaritan was healed and forgiven. (That’s two miracles) And that’s what Jesus meant when he said, “Your faith has made you well.”

So, the question remains: “Where are the nine?” The answer is they got what they wanted and then promptly left the building. Jesus performed a mighty miracle for them and they said, “Thanks, Lord. We can take it from here.” Sadly, that kind of attitude can be found in each one of us, even those who were raised in the church. The reason? Because we have so little appreciation for what God has done for us. We just don’t love the Lord that much, or just not enough to express gratitude for his blessings.

But isn’t gratitude the highest duty of the believer and the supreme virtue – the fountain from which all other blessings flow? Yes. But its corollary, ingratitude, is the leprosy of the soul. It eats away from the inside. It destroys our happiness, cripples our joy, withers our compassion, paralyzes our praise and renders us completely numb to all the blessings of God.

Every good thing in the Christian life flows from gratitude, or thankfulness. And when I realize the goodness of God – not in the abstract or in the theoretical, but personally – then (and only then) am I free to go, free to pray, free to tell, free to do, free to be. I don’t need to be coerced. I don’t need to be pressured. When we can finally look and see what God has done …. When we can count our many blessings and name them one by one .… When we can understand that every good and perfect gift comes down from the Father above .… When we can see that life itself comes gift-wrapped from on high …. When we know, really know, that all of life is God’s grace … then we begin to praise; we begin to give; we begin to sing; we begin to tell; we begin to serve; we begin to enter into the “Abundant Life.”

When we finally understand that we were born lepers, and then we see what Jesus has done for us, and when it finally breaks through that only by the grace of God do we have anything valuable at all, only then does life really begin to change. At that point, wonderful things begin to happen to us. What was duty is now privilege. What was law is now grace. What was demanded is now volunteered. What was forced is now free. What was drudgery is now joy. What was taken for granted is now offered up in praise to God. When it finally breaks through to us, then we come running, gladly, just like the leper.

Ten men were healed that day, but only one came back to give thanks. Which one are you? Far too many of us take our blessings for granted and groan about duties. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Praise is a choice. A thankful heart is a choice you make. No one is forced into bitterness. You choose the way you live. The one who returned to give thanks chose not to forget what Jesus had done for him. The secret then of a thankful heart is a conscious choice not to forget what God has done for you.

That’s called, “Thanksliving.”

Grace,

Randy

Believe

Believe

                “For God so loved the world, that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16

Preschoolers can recite it, and football fans paint it boldly across cardboard signs near the end zone. It’s brief enough to write on a napkin or memorize in a moment, yet solid enough to withstand 2,000 years of storms and questions. It begins with God, ends with life, and urges us to do the same. If you know nothing of the Bible, begin here. If you know everything of the Bible, return here.

The context of John 3:16 began with a silent figure moving secretly through the darkened streets of Jerusalem. Nicodemus was a Pharisee, one of the religious elite who militantly rejected Jesus. So when Nicodemus decided to seek Christ out and to learn from him, he had to do it under cover of darkness. Slipping through alleyways and dimly lit streets, Nicodemus finds his way to a simple house where Jesus and his followers are staying. “Rabbi,” he said, “we all know that God has sent you to teach us. Your miraculous signs are evidence that God is with you.” (John 3:2)

Without hesitation, Jesus replies, “I tell you the truth, unless you are born again, you cannot see the Kingdom of God.” (John 3:3) Now, I’m not sure what was on Nicodemus’ mind that night, but it’s clear what was on Jesus’ mind. And Christ’s exposition on salvation reaches its climax in the sixteenth verse: “For God so loved the world, that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” In this one verse, we see the whole Gospel of Jesus Christ, and it starts with two simple words, He loves.

And if those words are true, it changes everything, doesn’t it? Imagine what the world would be like without God’s love – a dark planet hurtling through space without direction; no hope; no future; nothing for which to live; no greater purpose to its inhabitant’s existence. Every death would be an end. Every grave a place of despair. But God loves the world. We see it in every sunrise and sunset, every blade of grass, every birth, and every child’s face. For God so loved the world.

Lots of kids these days watch the Veggie Tales cartoons. In fact, we even used it as the curriculum for our Vacation Bible School a few years ago. But, in case you’ve been living under a rock, it’s a show with computer-animated vegetables that tell Bible stories. (I know, I know. It sounds a little weird) It’s one of those Sunday morning values, Saturday morning fun shows. And at the end of every episode, Bob (he’s a tomato) says, “Remember kids, God made you special, and he loves you very much!”

Isn’t that the message of John 3:16? And isn’t that the message the world needs to hear? That God made you special and that He loves us so very much. That’s the message George Matheson needed to hear. He was only fifteen years old when he was told that he was losing what little eyesight he had. Not to be denied, however, George continued with his plans to enroll at the University of Glasgow.

George’s determination led to his graduation in 1861 at the age of nineteen. But by the time he finished his graduate studies, he was completely blind. Nevertheless, his spirit didn’t collapse – that is until his fiancée returned his engagement ring. She said she couldn’t see herself spending her life bound by the chains of marriage to a blind man. So, George adapted to life without sight, but never fully recovered from his broken heart.

Years later, as a well-loved pastor in Scotland, George’s sister came to him excitedly announcing her own engagement. He was happy for her, but his mind went back to his own heartache. He was consoled by thinking of God’s love – unlimited and never conditional; certain and never withdrawn. And out of this experience, George penned these words: “O love that will not let me go, I rest my weary soul in thee; I give thee back the life I owe, that in thine ocean depths its flow may richer, fuller be.”

The Bible says, “And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38-39) On this, Max Lucado remarked, “If God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on it. If He had a wallet, your photo would be in it. He sends you flowers every spring and a sunrise every morning. Whenever you want to talk, he’ll listen. He can live anywhere in the universe, and he chose your heart....” He loves.

And because he loves, he gives. Jesus said, “God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son.…” Just to say “I love you” doesn’t really mean a whole lot sometimes, does it? That’s why love, agape, is a verb – an action word; it’s something that has to be tangibly demonstrated. It has to be proven – God’s love included. The Bible says, “But God proves His own love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8)

That sounds so strange to some. So many people in the world respect the teachings of Jesus, and admire his example. But no matter how they turn it around, they can’t see any significance in his death. One man even said, “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t need God to give anyone for me,” he claimed. “I’ve led a good life. Held a good job. People respect me. My wife loves me. I don’t need God to give me his son.” Maybe you agree. But are we really as good as we think we are? Here’s a little test:

1. "You shall not steal." Have you ever stolen anything? a paper clip, a peanut? Well, if so, that makes you a thief.

2.  "You mst not lie." Those who claim they never have just did.

3.  "You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain." Ever let God's name slip past your lips in anger or frustration? The Bible calls that blasphemy.

4.  "You shall not commit adultery." Now, before you start congratulating yourself on that one, remember that Jesus said if you so much as look at a woman lustfully you've committed adultery in your heart.

            And that’s just four out of ten.

We could keep going, of course, but – honestly – I don’t think we’d do any better. I believe that most sincere people, if we’re completely honest, know that we’re really not all that good. We all have regrets. We’ve all made mistakes. The Bible calls that sin. And we do it all the time. In fact, if you’re still on the fence about all this, the Bible tells us that, “Everyone has sinned and fallen short of God’s glorious standard.” (Romans 3:23) That’s everyone. And our sin separates us from God. So, if any of us are ever going to have a real relationship with our Creator, then it’s up to him to find a way to reconcile us. That’s where Jesus comes in. He determined to build that bridge with an old, rugged cross. He gave himself. He gave Jesus to bring salvation to the world through his death.

In John 3:14, Jesus alludes to an event in the Old Testament. It’s a story that’s told in Numbers 21:4-9. It’s a story of sin. The children of Israel – God’s special people – had rebelled against God, so God sent poisonous snakes that bit the people and many of them died. But it’s also a story of grace. Moses interceded for the people and God provided a remedy. He told Moses to make a brass serpent and lift it up on a pole for everyone to see, and anyone who had been bitten who then looked at the serpent would be healed immediately.

And we’re in a similar situation. The whole world has been bitten by sin, and the “wages of sin is death.” (Rom. 6:23) Just as the serpent was lifted on that pole for the people to look to for healing, Jesus was lifted on a cross for us to look to for our healing. God sent his Son to die, not only for Israel, but for the whole world. Although God’s remedy for snakebite was sufficient for all of Israel, it was only effective for those who "looked upon the serpent." And although God’s love and Jesus’ sacrifice is sufficient for the whole world, it is only efficient if we believe.

Jesus said that God “gave his one and only Son so that whoever believes in him shall not perish…” But this concept runs contrary to our instincts, doesn’t it? The problem, it seems, is that it’s way too simple. We expect a more complicated cure, a more sophisticated salvation. Right? Just like that Bible verse that says, “God helps those who help themselves”? (Sorry to disappoint, but that’s not really in the Bible. It’s actually a moral from one of Aesop’s fables) But no other religion offers what Jesus promises. Judaism sees salvation as a Judgment Day decision based on morality. Buddhism grades your life according to the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path. Muslims earn their way to Allah by performing the duties of the Five Pillars of Faith.

But not Christianity. Jesus calls us to do one thing: believe! Listen to what the Bible says: “Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because he has not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son.” (John 3:18) “He who believes in the Son has everlasting life; and he who does not believe the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abides on him.” (John 3:36) “I tell you the truth, whoever believes has eternal life.” (John 6:47) “Then he brought them out and asked, ‘Sirs, what must I do to be saved?’ They replied, ‘Believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved, along with everyone in your household.’” (Acts 16:31) “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.” (Eph. 2:8)

But you’re thinking, “What about baptism, or repentance and that changed life stuff? Are you saying those things aren’t necessary?” No, I’m not. But baptism, repentance, and a changed life are not in addition to faith – they are expressions of it. They are acts of faith that work together with our belief to make our faith real. What Jesus wants us to see is that it’s not because of what we’ve done, but because of who he is. And it’s not because of who we are, but because of what he’s already done! All he asks is for us to put our trust in him, and him alone. God rewards those who seek him, not those who seek a doctrine, or a system, or creeds. Jesus died so that we could have a relationship, not a religion.

And the reward is that when we believe, we live. “Whoever believes in him,” Jesus said, “shall not perish, but have eternal life.” Although people sometimes imagine spending eternity in the clouds, floating around and strumming harps for eternity, that’s not really the Biblical picture of Heaven. The Bible describes Heaven as a place that will have rivers, trees, cities, buildings, gates, streets, mountains, and houses. (Revelation 21-22) Although its glory will be beyond description, its essential components will be similar to what we have now. Paradise lost will be paradise restored. It will be a world of beauty and grandeur; a paradise as God originally intended.

Perhaps the most amazing thing in heaven will be our intimate relationship with our Maker and Redeemer. In Heaven, the Bible says, “God’s presence is with his people and he will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them and will be their God.” (Revelation 21:3) We won’t need to be drawn into God’s presence. We’ll live there, constantly and consciously. And our restored relationship with God will offer infinite possibilities, and the more we come to know him, the more there will be to know.

He loves. He gives. We believe. We live. It’s really that simple. God loves this world more than we’ll ever know. He gave his one and only Son so that we could forever live with him. Apart from him we die. With him we live. Choose life. Choose Jesus.

Choose well.

Grace,

Randy