Stand Still and Wait on Jesus

 

Stand Still and Wait on Jesus

Then the eleven disciples left for Galilee, going to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they saw him, they worshiped him — but some of them still doubted. (Matt. 28:16-17)

Apparently, three years of miracles weren't enough. Neither were forty days at the Resurrection Retreat Center. They'd seen him empty tombs and dictate weather patterns, but some of them still doubted him. But who knew Jesus better than they did? Just ask them a Christ question. Did he hum as he walked? Did he pray before he ate? Did he talk to storms in his sleep? And, if he did, did the storms listen? They knew. They knew the person of Christ. And they knew the passion of their Master.

John probably winced as the hammer clanged. Mary wept as her son groaned. Close enough to be splattered by his blood, they knew his passion. When it came time to prepare the body for burial, they did. And when it came time to see the empty tomb, they did that, too. Peter ran a finger down the stone slab. Thomas studied Christ's pierced hands like a palm reader. And for forty days Jesus taught them. Can you imagine a six-week seminar with the mind behind the universe? They were hand trained by Christ; witnesses to the most critical moments in history. These folks were ready, weren’t they? Apparently not. Why? Because "some of them still doubted."

Questions surrounding the disciples kept buzzing like the summer flies in Ramona. Even after a thousand campfire conversations and a scrapbook full of jaw-dropping moments, some disciples resisted. “I'm still not sure.” So, what’s Jesus to do? What will he do with the doubters? We'd like to know, wouldn't we? We'd really like to know the answer to that question because that word, “still,” stalks our sentences, too. "I still worry." "I still gossip." "Permafrost still chills my marriage." "I'm still torn between the AA meeting and the corner bar." "I still clench my teeth every time I get a text from that ex-boyfriend of mine." The truth is that we find odd comfort in the lingering doubts of the disciples. That’s probably because we still have our own. And so, we wonder, “Does Christ have a word for those of us who are at a standstill of doubt?” Yes, he does, and Jesus’ instruction might surprise you.

What he told them then, Jesus tells us today. "And when they came together, he gave them this order: ‘Do not leave Jerusalem, but wait for the gift I told you about, the gift my Father promised.’" (Acts 1:4) Jesus’ word to the doubting disciples? "Don’t leave." Before you go out, stand still. Prior to stepping out, sit down. "Don’t leave the city until the Holy Spirit comes and fills you with power from heaven." (Luke 24:49) And so they did. "They went to the upstairs room of the house where they were staying. . . . They all met together continually for prayer, along with Mary the mother of Jesus, several other women, and the brothers of Jesus." (Acts 1:13-14)

They have their reasons to leave, of course. Someone has a business to run; another has a field to farm. Besides, the same soldiers who killed Christ are still walking Jerusalem's streets. The disciples have ample reason to leave . . . but they don't. They stay. They don’t leave and they stay together. "They all met together continually." As many as 120 souls huddle in the same house. So, just imagine how many potential conflicts existed in that group. Talk about a powder keg.

Nathanael might glare at Peter for denying Christ at the fire. Then again, at least Peter stood near the fire. He could resent the others for running. But so could the women. Faithful females who stood near the cross share the room with cowardly men who fled the scene. The room is ripe for conflict. Mary could demand special treatment. Jesus' blood brothers are in the room. They once even tried to lock Jesus up. Who's to say they won't lock up his followers? And isn't this a men's meeting? Who let the women in? The room is a kindling box for bitterness, arrogance and distrust. But no one strikes a match. They stay together and pray together. "They all met together continually for prayer."

Mark uses the same Greek word here translated "continually" to describe a boat floating in the water, waiting on Jesus. The Master, speaking on the beach of Galilee, told the disciples to have a boat ready and waiting. (Mark 3:9) The boat was "continually" in the presence of Christ. So are the Upper Room disciples. One day passes. Then two. Then a week. For all they know, a hundred more will come and go. But they aren't leaving. They persist. Then, ten days later, On the day of Pentecost, seven weeks after Jesus' resurrection, the believers were meeting together in one place. Suddenly, there was a sound from heaven like the roaring of a mighty windstorm in the skies above them, and it filled the house where they were meeting. Then, what looked like flames or tongues of fire appeared and settled on each of them. And everyone present was filled with the Holy Spirit. (Acts 2:1-4) Doubters became prophets. Peter preached, people came, and God opened the floodgates to the greatest movement in history. It began because the followers didn’t leave. They waited in the right place for power.

We're so reluctant to do what they did. Who has time to wait? We groan at the thought. But waiting doesn't mean inactivity. Waiting means watching for him. If you’re waiting on a bus, you’re watching for the bus. If you’re waiting on God, you’re watching for God, searching for God, hoping in God. Great promises come to those who do. "But those who wait on the Lord will find new strength. They will fly high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint." (Isa. 40:31) To those who still struggle, God says, "Wait on me." But be sure to wait in the right place.

Jesus doesn't tell us to stay in Jerusalem, but he does tell us to stay honest, stay faithful and stay true. "If you rebel against the Lord’s commands and refuse to listen to him, then his hand will be as heavy upon you as it was upon your ancestors." (1 Sam. 12:15) Are you illegally padding your pocket? Are you giving your body to someone who doesn't share your name and wear your ring? Is your mouth a Colorado River of gossip? If you intentionally hang out at the bus stop of disobedience, you need to know something – God’s bus doesn't stop there. Go to the place of obedience, instead. "The Holy Spirit . . .  is God's gift to those who obey him." (Acts 5:32)

And while you're waiting in the right place, get along with the people with whom you’re waiting. Would the Holy Spirit have anointed contentious disciples? I don’t know. But according to Peter, disharmony hinders prayers. He tells husbands, "Live with your wives in an understanding way. . . . Do this so that nothing will stop your prayers." (1 Pet. 3:7) Waiting on God means working through conflicts, forgiving offenses and resolving disputes. "Always keep yourselves united in the Holy Spirit and bind yourselves together with peace." (Eph. 4:3) Jesus promised, "When two or three of you are together because of me, you can be sure that I'll be there." (Matt. 18:20) So if you want power for your life, it will come as you "do your part to live in peace with everyone, as much as possible." (Rom. 12:18)

It will also come as you pray. For ten days the disciples prayed. Ten days of prayer plus a few minutes of preaching led to three thousand saved souls in one day. Too often, however, we invert the numbers. We're prone to pray for a few minutes and preach for ten days. Not the apostles. Like the boat waiting for Christ, they lingered in his presence. They never left the place of prayer. Biblical writers spoke often of this place. Early Christians were urged to "pray without ceasing" (1 Thess. 5:17); to "always be prayerful" (Rom. 12:12); and to "pray at all times and on every occasion." (Eph. 6:18)

Remember the adverb “continually” that described the Upper Room prayer of the apostles? It's used to describe our prayers as well: "Continue earnestly in prayer, being vigilant in it with thanksgiving." (Col. 4:2) Sound burdensome? For instance, maybe you’re thinking, “My business needs attention, my children need dinner, my bills need paying. How can I stay in a place of prayer?” Unceasing prayer may sound complicated, if not impossible, but it doesn’t have to be that way. Do this – change your definition of prayer.

Think of prayer less as an activity for God, and more as an awareness of God. Seek to live in uninterrupted awareness. Acknowledge his presence everywhere you go. As you stand in line to register your car, think, “Thank you, Lord, for being here.” In the grocery store as you shop, “Your presence, my King, I welcome.” As you wash the dishes, worship your Maker. Brother Lawrence did. This well-known saint called himself the "lord of the pots and pans." In his book The Practice of the Presence of God, he wrote: “The time of business does not with me differ from the time of prayer; and in the noise and clatter of my kitchen, while several persons are at the same time calling for different things, I possess God in as great tranquility as if I were upon my knees at the blessed sacrament.”

Though only a rookie in the League of Unceasing Prayer, I’ve been enjoying the pursuit. I've discovered the strength of carrying on two conversations: one with a person, another with the Person. I’ve found that one can, at once, both listen and petition. As a person unfolds his or her problem, for instance, I'm often silently saying, “God, a little help here, please?” He always provides it. I've also discovered the delight of regular sips from his water cooler. Lately, throughout any given day, my thoughts are marked with phrases like, “Guide me, God,” or “Forgive that idea, please,” or “Please God, protect my wife and children today.”

One last thought. 120 disciples occupied the Upper Room. Since it’s been estimated that there were about 4,000,000 people in Palestine at the time, that means that less than 1 in 30,000 was a Christian. Yet look at the fruit of their work. Better said, look at the fruit of God's Spirit working within them. We can only wonder what would happen today if we, who still struggle, did what they did: wait on the Lord in the right place, and not leave. “Wait passionately for God, don't leave the path. He'll give you your place in the sun while you watch the wicked lose theirs.” (Psalm 37:34) So, today, try to stand still and wait on Jesus.

Grace,

Randy

He Did It Just for You

 

He Did It Just for You

He Did It Just for You - Audio/Visual 

You were dead because of your sins and because your sinful nature was not yet cut away. Then God made you alive with Christ, for he forgave all our sins. He canceled the record of the charges against us and took it away by nailing it to the cross. In this way, he disarmed the spiritual rulers and authorities. He shamed them publicly by his victory over them on the cross. (Col. 2:13-15)

He should have never asked me to make that list. Honestly, I dreaded even showing it to him. He was a skilled builder, and during the construction project he’d become more than just a former client; he’d become a friend. And he’d built us a great addition. But the addition had a few … well … mistakes. And until he was finished, I hadn’t really seen them. But then again, until he’d finished, I hadn’t spent a lot of time looking. But once the project becomes your own, you see every flaw. “Make a punch list,” he told me. “A what list?” “A punch list – a list of items for me to punch out before you sign off on the final.” “Oh, okay. Uh, I’ll make that punch list.”

Several tiles were loose. A beam had split. The paint was chipped. The concrete had some cracks and hadn’t been the exact color I’d hoped. These, just to name a few. As I said, the addition was nice, but the list seemed to grow the closer I looked. And considering the list of the contractor’s mistakes made me think about God making a list of my own. After all, hasn’t he supposed to have taken up residence in my heart? (1 John 4:17-18) And if I see flaws in my addition, imagine what he sees in me. It’s not a pretty picture.

The door hinges to the prayer room have grown rusty from underuse. The stove called jealousy is overheating. The sub-floor is weighted down with too many regrets. The attic is cluttered with too many secrets. And I can’t seem to raise the window and chase the bitterness out of this heart of mine. The list of my weaknesses; the list of your weaknesses. Would you like anyone to see yours? Better yet, would you like them to be made public? How would you feel if they were posted high so that everyone, including Christ himself, could see? Well, they were. Yes, there is a list of your failures. Christ has chronicled your shortcomings. And, yes, that list has been made public. But you’ve never seen it, and neither have I.

Watch as the soldiers shove the carpenter to the ground and stretch his arms against the beams. One presses a knee against a forearm and a spike against a hand. Jesus turns his face toward the nail just as the soldier lifts the hammer to strike it. But wait. Couldn’t Jesus have stopped him? With a flex of his bicep, with a clench of his fist he could have resisted. Isn’t this the same hand that stilled the sea? Cleansed the Temple? Raised the dead?

But his fist doesn’t clench, and the moment isn’t aborted. The mallet rings and the skin rips and the blood begins to drip, then rush. Then the questions follow. Why? Why didn’t Jesus resist? “Because he loved us,” we reply. And that’s true – wonderfully true. But it’s only partially true. There’s more to his reason. He saw something that made him stay. As the soldier pressed his arm, Jesus rolled his head to the side and with his cheek resting on the wood he saw a mallet, a nail and a soldier’s hand.

But he saw something else. He saw the hand of God. Looking intently at it, it appeared to be the hand of a man. Long fingers of a woodworker. Callous palms of a carpenter. It appeared even common. It was, however, anything but. Because those fingers formed Adam out of clay and wrote truth into tablets. With a wave, that hand toppled Babel’s tower and split the Red Sea. From that hand flew the locusts that plagued Egypt, and the raven that fed Elijah. Is it any wonder then that the psalmist celebrated liberation by declaring: “You drove out the nations with your hand .… It was your right hand, your arm, and the light of your countenance.” (Ps. 44:2–3) The hand of God is a mighty hand.

The hands of Jesus. Hands of incarnation at his birth. Hands of liberation as he healed. Hands of inspiration as he taught. Hands of dedication as he served. And hands of salvation as he died. The crowd at the cross concluded that the purpose of the pounding was to skewer the hands of Christ to a beam. But they were only half-right. We can’t fault them for missing the other half. They couldn’t see it. But Jesus could. And heaven could. And now we can, too.

Through the eyes of Scripture, we see what others missed but what Jesus saw. “He canceled the record that contained the charges against us. He took it and destroyed it by nailing it to Christ’s cross.” (Col. 2:14) Between his hand and the wood there was a list. A long list. A list of our mistakes: our lusts and lies and greedy moments and prodigal years. A list of our sins. And dangling from the cross is an itemized catalog of your sins. Of my sins. The bad decisions from last year. The bad attitudes from last week. There, in broad daylight for all of heaven to see, is a list of our mistakes.

God has done with us what I was doing with that addition. He has penned a list of our faults. The list God has made, however, cannot be read. The words can’t be deciphered. The mistakes are covered. The sins are hidden. Those at the top are hidden by his hand; those down the list are covered by his blood. Your sins are “blotted out” by Jesus. “He has forgiven you all your sins: he has utterly wiped out the written evidence of broken commandments which always hung over our heads and has completely annulled it by nailing it to the cross.”
(Col. 2:14) That’s why he refused to close his fist. He saw the list. But what kept him from resisting this warrant; this tabulation of your failures, and mine. Because he knew the price of those sins was death. He knew the source of those sins was you and me. And since he couldn’t bear the thought of eternity without us, he chose the cross along with its nails.

The hand squeezing the handle was not a Roman infantryman. The force behind the hammer was not an angry mob. The verdict behind the death sentence was not decided by jealous Jews. Jesus himself chose the punishment. So, the hands of Jesus opened up. Had the soldier hesitated, Jesus himself would have swung the mallet. He certainly knew how; he was no stranger to driving nails into wood. As a carpenter he knew what it took. And as a Savior he knew what it meant. He knew that the purpose of the nail was to place your sins where they could be hidden by his sacrifice and covered by his blood. So, the hammer fell.

And the same hand that stilled the seas stills your guilt. The same hand that cleansed the Temple cleanses your heart. The hand is the hand of God. And as the hands of Jesus opened for the nails, the doors of heaven opened for you. And now he’s risen  – and that makes all the difference since he did it just for you.

Happy Easter,

Randy