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Selfless Sacrifice

“Hunger is the greatest teacher I have ever known,”1 wrote my friend, Jean-Paul Tiendrebeogo in his book My Faith or My Family. Born and raised in Burkina-Faso, one of the poorest countries on Earth, Jean-Paul has known real hunger, an ongoing “lifestyle” of being sick and dazed from the lack of daily intake. It meant days and nights of “grounding,” as he calls it, stomach ulcers he endured by physically positioning himself—twisting and bending in any way he could—to ease the pain. Curious, I asked him, “What did hunger teach you?”

“Hunger causes you to cling to God, to press toward Him in prayer,” Jean-Paul replied, “Being in need in general draws you to your knees for greater dependence on God.” He continued, “Hunger opened my eyes to have a heart of thankfulness and appreciation, and not to take what I have for granted. It taught me to relate to people who are in a state of hunger and to be compassionate, because I was there and I know what it is like.” Opening himself further, he added, “I learned as a young boy not to cry, because no one is going to listen to me. You get up and you walk; you work hard, you persevere.” My own words eluded me, for I, by contrast, have almost never missed a meal; in fact, I’ve “grazed” at will from pantry tablelands throughout my days.

How ironic, then, that of the two of us, Jean-Paul is the one who has willingly returned to hunger through the discipline of fasting. So, I asked my friend, “Why do you fast now?” He responded without hesitation, “The greater the need, the more deeply I will cling to God. I put out my heart to Him the best I know how … I deprive myself to seek the will of God.” And God has honored Jean-Paul’s searching heart. “I learned to be in the presence of God. Some of the greatest and deepest revelations I have had came through my fasting,” he said, “and I have come away no longer hungry in the same way, but filled up in a spiritual sense.”

Whether it was what Jean-Paul said or the passion in which he said it that inspired me more, I am not sure, but over coffee that morning, I was persuaded to fast as God leads me to. For though Jean-Paul could never pass along to me what hunger had taught him, he did teach me this—that fasting is a spiritual adventure that leads us closer into the presence of God, who never sends us away empty.

Father, you have made me, and you provide all I need. Draw me closer to you and show yourself to me, for you alone are my sustenance. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.

Christ in me is strength.

Read the story of Queen Esther leading the call to fast in Esther 4:6-17.

1 Jean-Paul Tiendrebeogo, My Faith or My Family, (Terentum, Word Association Publishers, 2008), 52.

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Selfless Reconciliation

Who are you? Who, who, who who? Who are you? Who, who, who who?1 You don’t have to have been around in 1978 to be familiar with these classic rock lyrics and the tune that etched them onto our long-term memory banks. Thanks to the band, The Who (who else?!?), millions of people have rhythmically asked billions of times: “Who are you?” Now, we can remain in the same rhetorical refrain for another 40 years if we wish—content to question identity and purpose—or we can flourish in the answer. For the apostle Paul shows us that, for anyone who is in Christ, there clearly is an answer.

Well, who are you?1 You are new—your sin defines you no longer! “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!”2 We shrug off our shame once and for all and live this life in freedom!

I really wanna know.1 You are reconciled to God—completely forgiven and entirely restored to peace in His presence. “All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ … not counting [people’s] sins against them.”3 We cease our striving; we rest in renewed relationship.

Tell me, who are you?1 You are the righteousness of God. “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”4 Jesus, who knew no sin, took upon Himself our sin, which we could not bear; then uniting us with Himself and living in us, He gave us His righteousness, which we could not earn. (Martin Luther called this “the great exchange.”) We humble ourselves in awe before such an indescribable gift and such a selfless Giver.

‘Cause I really wanna know.1 You are an ambassador, for God reaches people through people. “And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us.”5 And here is our message to millions who “really wanna know”—through faith in Christ, you, too, can be new, reconciled and, yes, righteous through the selfless grace of God.

Who’s next?

Father, I cannot begin to imagine the depth of your love or the cost of my reconciliation. Grace me to flourish in your forgiveness and to be a selfless ambassador of your truth and grace. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.

Christ in me is peace.

1 Townshend, Peter. (1978). Who Are You [Lyrics]. Retrieved from https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/who/whoareyou.htm
2 2 Corinthians 5:17
3 2 Corinthians 5:18, 19a
4 3 Corinthians 5:21
5 2 Corinthians 5:19b, 20

See today’s Scripture in 2 Corinthians 5:17-21.

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Selfless Love

“Permission to speak candidly?” For years, Jesus’ command to “go and make disciples” felt like an obligation to me; the gospel was a heavy load I’d rather keep bundled on my back than to unpack and share. For one thing, telling others what I’d found in Jesus would make me stand out when what I really wanted was to fit in. And to be perfectly honest, though I had come to trust that Jesus had paid the price of my sins and granted me salvation in His name, there remained enough debilitating doubt to muzzle my message. How frustrating!

Seemingly “out of the blue one day,” I decided to begin to read Scripture daily and to journal whatever response it was stirring within me. Mulling things over at the pace of my pen slowed me down and delved me deeper into the riches of God’s truth. He showed up without fail, His Spirit speaking through His word to teach me new things and, in the process, to show me His intimate love. My soul flooded with hope, my spirit streamed in joy, and I began to open myself up completely to Him, the content of my heart pouring out in torrents of blue gel ink onto dry beds of yellow-lined paper. The more I realized God’s love for me, the more freely it burst inner dams of doubt, flowing now to others through witnessing words and compassionate care.

Love begins with God. “This is love,” taught the apostle John, “not that we loved him, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.”1 When we acknowledge that Jesus is God’s Son, “God lives in [us] and [we] in God,”2 and so, “In this way, love is made complete among us.”3We love because he first loved us.”4

What then does God’s love in us look like? Action, it looks like action. “Freely you have received; freely give,”5 said Jesus to His disciples. “Forgive as the Lord forgives you,” wrote Paul to early believers. And as God’s love pours out in compassion, we too “comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.”6

God never meant for us to share Him in our own power, for we are neither able nor inclined. Instead, “We know and rely on the love God has for us.”7 For His selfless love is uncontainable; it overflows our hearts in words of life and acts of care.

Father, you are love. Open my heart to your love; may your love for me overflow in my love for others. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.

Christ in me is love.

1 1 John 4:10
2 1 John 4:15
3 1 John 4:12
4 1 John 4:19
5 Matthew 10:8
6 2 Corinthians 1:3-5
7 1 John 4:16

Read John’s live-breathing lesson on love in 1 John 4:10-19.