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Jesus Unites

“Why do you do this? Are you paid to come here?” an inmate finally summoned the courage to ask me during a few quiet moments on the Kairos Prison Ministry weekend. It wasn’t the first time an outside volunteer had been queried this way, and it certainly hasn’t been the last, for as incarceration serves its social purposes of justice and protection, the loneliness of isolation and the sense of worthlessness may well be the most difficult aspects of doing time. “We aren’t paid anything,” I replied, “We are here because we have experienced the love and mercy of Christ in our own lives, and we want to share it with you.”

Do we need to hear the percussion of slamming steel doors behind us or to behold the glare of gleaming razor wire above us to understand the reality of separation? No, “alone” may be more acute for the condemned, but we’re all acquainted with its pain. We know relational severance at a human level—whether we suffer it through the sting of death or the shock of rejection, or we be the ones who drive the splintering wedge of division—and we also experience it from in the spiritual sense, because deep inside we know sin separates us from a holy God who will not tolerate evil as we do.

Yet in pure love for us, God sent Jesus to close the gap between us. No one can bring charges against us anymore, for it is God himself who declares our right standing before Him in Christ. No evil power can condemn us, for Jesus intercedes for us before the Father. No society or any of its members can marginalize us as losers, for we are “more than conquerors” through Him who gave His life so we may gain ours. And nothing can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

I think my newfound friend dared to believe me, for, no longer isolated from care, he began to open up about his dreams, his aspirations after release, and his possibilities in a new life of freedom. Hope was stirring.

Father, thank you for uniting me with you through Jesus, who died for my sins and who raises me to new and forever life in Himself. Send your Spirit to live in me, that I would flourish in the truth of your love; then send me to others with the liberating message of unity with you through Christ. In His name, I pray. Amen.

Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? . . . No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:33-39)

Christ in me is salvation.

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Wait a Minute

Let’s try a word-association test. I’ll say a word, and you say the first thing that comes to mind. Ready? “Patience.” (What, you don’t want to play anymore?)

Of all the fruit the Holy Spirit produces in us, the prospect of acquiring patience unsettles us the most. How many times, for instance, have we heard—or said—something like this: “Don’t pray for patience, because you just might get it!” Kindness, goodness, and faithfulness? Yes, Lord, make me more like you. Love, joy, and peace? Come and fill me to overflowing. But patience? Please, Lord, not today. I don’t have time for it.

We’re so thankful when others endure us with grace, and we respect them for their forbearance, so what makes this particular virtue so difficult for us to practice? I think it is because patience is the “time element” fruit: it requires us, amid trying circumstances, to relinquish control over a protracted and often indeterminable period of time. An act of kindness may only take a moment, and we love in real-time. Patience, though, means waiting in faith—abiding a difficulty we cannot control and hoping for what we cannot see—for who knows how long?

Patience is a struggle for us, but it is the very nature of God. We see it in the Heavenly Father’s assurance to His Kingly Son, as David reveals: “The Lord said to my Lord: ‘Sit at my right hand until I put your enemies under your feet.’”1 We experience it in God’s regard for us, as Peter writes, “The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.”2

The fact of the matter is, for all it demands of us, patience gives us back much more. So, let’s try our word-association game again . . .

“Patience.” “Rest.” Patience beckons us to rest in God, rather than to churn in doubt.
“Patience.” “Honor.” Patience calls us to honor those we might otherwise belittle.
“Patience.” “Grace.” Patience invites us to “pay forward” the grace God has shown us.
“Patience.” “Contentment.” Patience matures us from situational happiness to unconditional contentment.
“Patience.” “Opportunity.” Patience allows us to repair relationships we have damaged through impatience.
“Patience.” “Enjoyment.” Patience frees us to enjoy the moments we might merely have endured.
“Patience.” “Humility.” In patience, we trust the faithfulness of God and esteem others as our equals.
“Patience.” “Clarity.” In patience, we exchange our agenda of ambiguity for God’s calendar of clarity.
“Patience.” “Faith.” In patience, we overcome the weakness of doubt with the strength of belief.

Father, dare I ask for patience? Yes, though it costs me my will, I choose to trust in your sovereignty, your wisdom, your love, and your faithfulness. Grace me to flourish in the grace and peace I’ll find in patience. In Jesus’ name and the power of your Spirit, I pray. Amen.

Christ in me is humility.

[Read today’s Scripture in Mark 12:35-37.]

1 Mark 12:36
2 2 Peter 3:9

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Restored at a Price

It was Augustine of Hippo who confessed, “You have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they can find peace in you.”1 He certainly spoke for me. In fact, so restless was I one Sunday evening years ago that I called my mother to vent my frustration. “Mom, over the past ten years, I’ve prayed, read the Bible, gone to church, and begged and pleaded with God; but I’m just not getting it.” She listened patiently to my lament and then responded, “I hear you speak of God, but I don’t hear you mention Jesus.” And with so few words, she had gotten to the crux of the matter.

“That’s a sore spot with me,” I replied, “I know the Bible teaches salvation comes through Jesus’ death and resurrection, but I don’t understand why. Why all the drama? Why couldn’t He have just clicked his heels together three times and that be good enough?” (It somehow seemed like a plausible alternative at the time.) Now my mother had been a Bethel Bible Series teacher, and so she summarized the two-year course for me in about five minutes! She shared Leviticus 17:11, where God made it clear that “. . . the life of the creature is in the blood . . . it is the blood that makes atonement for one’s life.” In other words, it takes one life to redeem another life lost.

Then, pulling it all together, Mom said, “In the Old Testament, it was the blood of bulls and goats that was shed for atonement, but that was only a foreshadowing of what was to come. After all, how many goats are you worth? Only God’s life is able to save our life, which was made in His image. Jesus sacrificed His perfect life to pay for our imperfect ones.”

At the heart of redemption is this: Jesus “gave himself for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own.”2 We are so treasured and He loves us that much! For life, which is sacred, costs life that is sacred. No other currency spends in the Kingdom of God. No other funds are sufficient. Jesus’ blood—Jesus’ life—is required and nothing less.

Everything clicked. After saying our goodbyes and hanging up the phone, I went to my room, knelt beside my bed, and entrusted my life to Jesus and His payment for my sins.

And, redeemed, I have rested well.

[Read today’s Scripture in 1 Peter 1:17-21.]

1 Augustine, Saint Bishop of Hippo, The Confessions of Saint Augustine, trans. Rex Warner. (New York: The New American Library, 1963), 17.
2 Titus 2:14

This post is taken from Christ in Me. Copyright © 2016 Paul Nordman. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

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