I ignored the doorbell, expecting “whoever” to go away. In our cul-de-sac, a knock on the door is almost always an activist with a petition, a window replacement evangelist, or a tree service eager to get at ours. This time, however, the pounding persisted, followed by the unsettling sound of one determinedly trying to open our latched front door. My irritation turned to fear, but when the noise stopped, I looked out the window and saw a familiar face. It was the father of an international student we had befriended in our weekly Bible study. The student had been struggling, and his dad had come from China to help him get his life back on track. During his weeks-long stay, he had attended our Friday night study with his son, and though he spoke no English, we had developed a silent, respectful acquaintance. I now went out to greet the man.
He had borrowed a bicycle and ridden it nine miles from the campus area to our house for a singular purpose: into my hand, he pressed a note, his thoughts anonymously translated into English; he had come to thank us for investing ourselves into his son’s life. We exchanged nonverbal expressions of affirmation and gratitude, after which he turned his bike around and peddled nine miles back to his son’s apartment. All of this to say thank you. I could not have been more humbled.
Luke tells the story of ten men with leprosy, all loudly calling out to Jesus, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”1 Jesus commanded them to show themselves to the priests, “and as they went, they were cleansed.”2 Yet of the ten who had by prayer and petition presented their requests to God3, only one—a Samaritan—returned with thanksgiving, an active expression of faith. “Were not all ten cleansed?” Jesus asked, “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.”4
People are not built to be the endpoint of praise, rather conduits through which praise and thanksgiving flow to its rightful place, the throne of God. The psalmist rightly exclaimed, “Not to us, Lord, not to us but to your name be the glory, because of your love and faithfulness.”5 So no matter how God works in and through our lives—whether giving or receiving—ours is to direct our gratitude to the One to whom it is due. In faith, give thanks.
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 ESV
“Not to us, Lord, not to us but to your name be the glory, because of your love and faithfulness.”6 Amen.
1 Luke 17:13 NIV
2 Luke 17:14 NIV
3 Philippians 4:6 NIV
4 Luke 17:17-19 NIV
5, 6 Psalm 115:1 ESV
Tag: Paul Nordman
Ask. Trust. Rest.
I had never stopped to contemplate the broad range of emotions we can experience in just one day, but in a recent Bible study with international students, we considered just that. Case in point: the day when Jesus fed the 5000 and then walked on water in the middle of the night. In Mark’s account,1 we see 1) the disciples’ overwhelmedness at the size of the crowd; 2) rest and relief in retreat; 3) overwhelmedness 2.0 amid crowd resurgence; 4) compassion and pity; 5) inadequacy for a seemingly impossible task; 6) amazement at a miracle; 7) strain and exhaustion amid the storm; 8) sheer fright; 9) reassurance; and finally, 10) just plain awe. What a rollercoaster day! Can you relate? And except for a pause for private prayer, Jesus was with them the entire time. It was a study in contrast—the sufficiency and faithfulness of God amid the limitations and fear in mankind.
For far too long—and too much still— my conversations with God have involved more angst than seemingly they should. How is it that, despite His faithfulness in the past and His promises for tomorrow, I still harbor anxiousness, even though He is with me the entire time? Let’s turn to God’s Word for a relational remedy: ask, trust, and rest.
Ask. “Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full,”2 promised Jesus on the night of His betrayal. What may we conclude about the heart of God, who continually invites us to petition Him in prayer? That He means it? That He loves us? That He enjoys our joy? That He wants to reveal Himself to us? Yet God repeatedly invites us to ask, no matter our circumstances, no matter our need.
Trust. James writes, “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God . . . and it will be given him. But let him ask in faith, with no doubting . . . ”3 God’s invitation to ask comes with an exhortation to trust. “Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will act,”4 assures the psalmist. Trust the wisdom, power, and faithfulness of Him who invites us to ask.
Rest. “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you,”5 the prophet Isaiah marveled. Rest in God follows trust in God. Paul expounds: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”6 In other words, ask, trust, and rest. For Jesus is with us.
Father, we trust Your power and promises; we rest in Your faithfulness and love. Hear our petitions now. . . We ask them in Jesus’ name. Amen.
1 See Mark 6:30-56.
2 John 16:24 ESV
3 James 1:5-6 ESV
4 Psalm 37:5 ESV
5 Isaiah 26:3 ESV
6 Philippians 4:6-7 ESV
I Fought the Law and Grace Won
An inmate once recalled to me the moment his world began to change. “When I was arrested, I almost cried,” he said. “I was being forcibly pulled out of an environment and lifestyle that I could not escape on my own. Inside I knew this was my chance for a new beginning, a new direction for me.”
“So, this was an inner cry of relief!” I exclaimed, amazed at his story and his perspective, in particular.
“Yes,” he replied, “it was a deep feeling of relief. I was so happy I almost cried.”
Though it has been some time now since our conversation, I find his story so stunning that, when it comes to mind, I still stop and marvel.
Sometimes “the Law”—God’s law, that is—gets a bad rap. We who embrace grace through faith well know that the Law will not save our soul, as Paul wrote, “For by works of the law no human being will be justified in [God’s] sight.”1 This is not to suggest God’s law is deficient in any way; rather, people are deficient in our ability to attain its lofty standard of perfection. “We know that the Law is good,”2 maintained Paul, and to the Galatians he offered this expression of its goodness: “Now before faith came, we were held captive under the law, imprisoned until the coming faith would be revealed. So then, the law was our guardian until Christ came, in order that we might be justified by faith.”3
The inmate’s arrest was both an illustration and, in a sense, the experience of law leading to grace through faith, for incarceration did what he could not do but so desperately wanted to do: it removed him from his otherwise inescapable lifestyle, and then positioned him where he could pursue the refreshing ways of God. For God’s law points us to “the way that is good and right,”4 while simultaneously exposing our natural inclinations to part from it. Trapped, then, in this tension of God’s law, we appeal to the freedom of His gospel—the mercy, grace and new life that are found in one place, Christ Jesus, our Savior and Lord. May we surrender ourselves completely to Him today.
“It is for freedom Christ has set us free.” —Galatians 5:1 NIV
“Show me your ways, Lord, teach me your paths. Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.”5 In Christ I pray. Amen.
1 Romans 3:20 ESV
2 1 Timothy 1:8 (cf Romans 7:12 NIV)
3 Galatians 3:23-24 ESV
4 1 Samuel 12:3 NIV
5 Psalm 25:4-5 NIV