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Archive for the ‘Spiritual Growth’ Category

Matthew 20–21

It’s amazing how Scripture keeps opening up, even passages I’ve read dozens of times. This morning, Matthew 20–21 struck me in a new way because of how the two chapters speak to each other.

Chapter 20 opens with a landowner who keeps going out all day to hire workers for his vineyard. At evening he pays everyone the same wage. Those hired at dawn got exactly what they agreed to. Those hired at the last hour got far more than they had earned. That is grace, and the landowner pictures God. Grace is getting what we don’t deserve.

What stands out is the reaction of the early workers. They grumble, convinced they deserve more than they were promised. The landowner answers directly: “Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or do you begrudge my generosity?” (Matthew 20:15, ESV).

Hold onto that as the reading moves into chapter 21. Jesus enters Jerusalem, cleanses the temple, and heals the blind and the lame. Children shout “Hosanna!” And the response of the chief priests and scribes is telling: “when [they] saw the wonderful things that he did… they were indignant” (Matthew 21:15, ESV).

Then comes the fig tree. Jesus finds it “with nothing on it but only leaves,” and it withers (Matthew 21:19, ESV). For years I didn’t know what to do with this passage, so I set it on the shelf. I think that’s a healthy practice. When a passage doesn’t square with what you know of Jesus, don’t force an interpretation. Keep reading, ask the Holy Spirit to guide you, and let understanding come in time.

Today it came through clearly. The fig tree pictures the religious leaders of Israel. They had the leaves: visible religion, position, and power. But they had no fruit. They had replaced true, faithful worship and seeking of God with a man-made system they were very confident in. Jesus says it plainly a few verses later: “the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people producing its fruits” (Matthew 21:43, ESV).

This wasn’t the end of Israel’s story. God’s promises to His chosen people still stand, and Revelation shows them with an important role. But their whole calling was that the Messiah would come through them, and that the kingdom would spread through the gospel, through love and faithfulness and knowing Him, not by force. The leaders missed it. The Messiah was standing in front of them, and they were indignant.

That temptation is not only theirs. Every person is made with what’s been called a God-shaped void. We try to fill it with religion of our own making, or we give up and insist there is no God at all. Nothing fits that space except Jesus Christ, God in the flesh. He truly lived, died, and rose again, proving He is the Son of God who brought the kingdom near.

So here is the contrast in today’s reading. On one side are the undeserving latecomers, welcomed by grace. On the other are those certain they deserved the kingdom, full of leaves and empty of fruit. “So the last will be first, and the first last” (Matthew 20:16, ESV).

A question to consider: When God is generous to someone else, do I rejoice, or do I quietly feel I deserved more? And is my faith producing fruit, or just leaves?

Be blessed and be a blessing.

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Luke 18

Today’s reading landed differently for me than it has in the past.

The story of the rich ruler has always been a challenge. When Jesus says, “One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me” (Luke 18:22), and I hear it aimed at me, I immediately think of everyone else involved in that decision. How can I sell everything when I have a wife, children, and now grandchildren?

Where I Started

When I surrendered to the Lord 43 years ago, what He offered me was an empty hand. All I had was His call on my life and His promise that He would never leave me or forsake me. From there, I followed Him.

Over the years, a lot has come into that hand, and it has been blessing. My wife. Our children. A series of jobs and relationships. The comfortable middle-class life we’ve been able to build. It has all accumulated.

So today, when I hear Jesus’ call to the ruler, part of me pushes back: Lord, You gave me all these things. Do I have to release them?

The answer is yes. I can’t hold them tightly. They were gifts from Him, for His purposes, for a time.

Holding Loosely, Stewarding Well

That has to be read alongside the rest of Scripture and the rest of Jesus’ words. Part of His call on us is to be faithful stewards of what He has entrusted to us. Holding loosely doesn’t mean being careless.

But if I’m holding loosely and stewarding well, it means I have to let Him pick and choose what He needs. More than that, I need to give it to Him when He says, “This is what I want.”

Notice what the ruler did when he heard Jesus’ words: “he became very sad, for he was extremely rich” (Luke 18:23). His grip was the problem, not his wealth.

What I’ve learned over the years is that when God asks for something significant, even something painful, there is always good on the other side. The last few years at our year-end offering, He has asked us for a gift larger than we would have thought to give. Every time we’ve released it, He has blessed us. We keep trying to outgive God, and we keep losing.

Jesus said as much to Peter a few verses later: “there is no one who has left house or wife or brothers or parents or children, for the sake of the kingdom of God, who will not receive many times more in this time, and in the age to come eternal life” (Luke 18:29–30).

The heart of it is how we see what’s in our hands: all we’ve been given, not all we’ve earned.

Two Men at the Temple

That brings me back to the beginning of the chapter, to the two men who went up to pray.

The Pharisee was a sterling example of keeping the law. He stood and prayed, “God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector” (Luke 18:11). The tax collector, a man whose life didn’t line up with what the religious leaders said it should, stood far off, beat his chest, and said, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” (Luke 18:13).

Jesus’ verdict: “I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted” (Luke 18:14).

The heart is the key. The tax collector’s spiritual poverty put him in a place to receive what God wanted to do: redeem him and claim his life. The Pharisee came with full hands, full of his own record, and it’s hard to imagine him taking correction from anyone. He was thanking God for how good he was.

His heart wasn’t supple. It wasn’t bent before God in grief over the sin that was still there. And spiritual pride is sin.

A Warning for the Long-Time Follower

This is a real warning for those of us who have followed Jesus a long time. We’ve been through many battles. We’ve watched the Lord deliver us from things that tripped us up early in our walk. And it’s right there, in that history, that pride finds its foothold.

I recognize I’m not home yet. I’m still not fully surrendered. There are times when what I want carries the decision, and I don’t even stop to ask what God’s will is.

So I want to stand with the tax collector. Lord, I am still so needy apart from You. It is Your faithfulness and Your goodness toward us that wins the day. In my own strength, I can do nothing good.

Thank You, Lord Jesus, for Your great grace, which saves us. Thank You for Your death on the cross, which paid the penalty we couldn’t pay. And thank You that, because of You and our trust in You, You call us justified. That is a glorious promise.

For Reflection

What are you holding with a closed fist right now: a possession, a plan, or maybe your own spiritual track record? What would it look like to open your hand to Him today?

Be blessed today, and be a blessing to someone.

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John 11

Jesus raised others from the dead: Jairus’s daughter, and the widow’s son at Nain. Those were people who sought him out. Lazarus was different. Lazarus was a friend. Jesus had stayed in his home and knew his sisters well. We meet Martha and Mary in Luke: Martha the busy one, Mary the one at his feet.

So when word reaches Jesus that Lazarus is sick, the story takes a turn that stops me every time. John writes, “Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So, when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was” (John 11:5–6, ESV).

“So.” Because he loved them, he waited.

That is hard for us. God will ask us to wait, and the timing is his, not ours. Jesus tells us why he waited: the sickness was “for the glory of God” (v. 4), and he was glad for the disciples’ sake “so that you may believe” (v. 15). When he arrives, Lazarus has been in the tomb four days. Jews buried quickly, and day four meant there was no doubt left. Lazarus was dead. And Bethany was only two miles from Jerusalem, so mourners from the city had time to gather.

What struck me today is how Jesus meets each person exactly where they are. Martha rushes out, ever the doer, with a question that is close to a rebuke: if you had been here, he would not have died. Jesus reasons with her. As Tara-Leigh Cobble points out, there is an irony here. Jesus usually spoke of spiritual things and the crowds heard physical ones. Now he speaks of a physical raising, and Martha hears a spiritual one, the resurrection at the last day (v. 24). That was the belief of the Pharisees and many ordinary people. The Sadducees denied any resurrection, which fit well with their focus on wealth and position now. Jesus answers her: “I am the resurrection and the life” (v. 25).

With Mary, Jesus doesn’t reason. He enters her grief. “Jesus wept” (v. 35). God in the flesh, standing at a friend’s grave, knowing what he is about to do, and still weeping with the one who hurts.

Then: take away the stone. A prayer of thanks to the Father. “Lazarus, come out” (v. 43). And the dead man walks out. I can only imagine what the last day will be like, when all creation is raised.

The timing reaches even further. Some in the crowd believed. Others ran to the Pharisees (v. 46). The council met, and Caiaphas declared that one man should die for the people (vv. 49–53). From that day they planned to kill him. Jesus’s act of love and power was the spark that set the final events in motion. It led to the cross at Passover, the Lamb of God slain at the very time the Passover lambs were slain, just as God had planned before the foundation of the world.

We all have things we are waiting on. If you have surrendered your life to Jesus and walk under his lordship, you can trust him in the wait. “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28). The waiting is not God ignoring you. It is part of the good he is working.

What are you waiting on right now, and could the delay be part of how God plans to show his glory?

Have a blessed day, and be a blessing.

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Luke 14–15

On Monday mornings when I’m in town, I meet with a few friends to pray. Yesterday we prayed for the fruit of the Spirit from Galatians to be evident in the Church: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control” (Galatians 5:22–23). One of the men said he found it interesting that humility isn’t on the list. Before I’d really thought about it, I said, “Humility is the tree on which the fruit of the Spirit grows.” I was a little surprised to hear myself say it. But this morning, reading Luke 14 and 15, Jesus returns to humility again and again.

A Word About “Hate”

In Luke 14:26 Jesus says, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” In the language and thinking of Jesus’ day, “hate” in this sense means to love less, not the bitter hostility we usually mean by the word. Matthew records the same teaching this way: “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me” (Matthew 10:37). We also know Jesus doesn’t mean hatred in our modern sense, because of how He honored His own mother, and because He rebuked the religious leaders for using their traditions to avoid caring for their parents.

Jesus is saying that following Him is to be our highest love, with every other relationship ranked below it. After 41 years of marriage, I’ve learned that when I follow Jesus with my utmost, I love my wife and others better. When my attention turns to myself, or when any other relationship takes first place, I have less love both for others and for God.

The Younger Son: Humbled, Then Humble

The story of the prodigal son shows how humility is the tree the fruit grows on. For a long time I thought prodigal meant rebellious. It actually means wasteful, and that’s what the younger son was. He took his inheritance and “squandered his property in reckless living” (Luke 15:13). Then a famine came, which would have made life hard even for someone with resources, and he had none. He ended up feeding pigs. For a Jewish young man, that was the bottom rung of the ladder, and then some.

In that place of being humbled, he chose humility: “I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants” (Luke 15:19). In that humility he went home, and the father ran to him and lavished love on his lost, wandering, wasteful son. Humility started the process that leads to good fruit.

The Older Son: Dutiful, but Proud

Most parables drive home one main point. This one seems to give us two, and both are about humility: one son who found it and one who lacked it.

The older son was dutiful, obedient, and hardworking. What he didn’t have was the humility to recognize that the father was the source and the owner, the one through whom every blessing came, and that he was also his father, worthy of honor. Instead he threw a fit. He already got his inheritance. Why does he get the fattened calf? I’ve been here working the whole time. Where’s my party? That’s pride, not humility. And the father’s answer is gentle: “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours” (Luke 15:31).

Jesus ends the story there, with the older brother standing outside the party. The Pharisees He was speaking to were zealous for the Scriptures, and some of them did come to believe. Acts mentions “believers who belonged to the party of the Pharisees” (Acts 15:5). If they opened their hearts with a little humility, everything they knew from the Word pointed to Jesus as the promised Messiah.

The Fruit Grows from the Tree

So today I’m thinking about humility and a life of intimacy with God that produces love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. That fruit comes as we humble ourselves, grow closer to God, mature spiritually, and let the things of God take precedence over the things of this world. As Jesus said, “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you” (Matthew 6:33). That is what the tree of humility provides.

Which son do you most resemble right now: the one who needed to be humbled, or the one who needed to recognize he was always at home?

Have a blessed day, and be a blessing to someone.

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John 7–8

The tug-of-war over truth has been, and still is, one of the most contentious struggles in human existence. Much conflict has come from differing worldviews, each built on a different understanding of what is true. Religions are founded on what a group of people believes to be true. For that matter, people who reject religion do so because of what they believe is true and what is not.

At this point in John’s Gospel, Jesus is about midway through His ministry. John wasn’t mainly concerned with chronological order. His goal was to paint a clear picture of Jesus as God, and he does this by capturing critical moments in Jesus’ ministry. Today’s scene takes place in Jerusalem during the Feast of Booths, one of the pilgrimage feasts every faithful Jew was expected to attend.

By now the religious leaders are deeply troubled by Jesus’ teaching. His picture of the Kingdom of God, and what He says about Himself, about them, and about God, threatens their carefully structured religious order. Their reputations, their livelihoods, and the whole system are at risk if Jesus keeps preaching this upside-down kingdom. They sit at the top of that system, and Jesus threatens to overturn it if people keep listening to Him and following Him.

Today’s exchange goes to the heart of that conflict. Here’s the thing about truth: while our individual perceptions and understanding of what is true may vary, there is ultimate truth. I’m decent at math. 2 + 2 = 4. If mankind had never gotten good at math, space exploration would never have become reality. Putting a man on the moon couldn’t have happened. There is real, objective truth.

Because I was decent at math, I became an engineer. When I learned the second law of thermodynamics, I saw a truth explaining why things slow down, degrade, and deteriorate unless some outside source puts energy into the system. Years later, I dug out my old thermodynamics textbook and found a fascinating note from the authors. They wrote that the second law of thermodynamics is evidence of an external Creator. They didn’t go so far as to point to any particular religion, but they stated plainly that a Creator must exist because of it.

So we circle back to today’s exchange between Jesus and the religious leaders. They are disputing with Jesus, but they can’t muster a real argument against what He’s teaching, so they resort to attacking His character. Because Jesus won’t toe the religious party line, He must be of the devil: “Are we not right in saying that you are a Samaritan and have a demon?” (John 8:48, ESV).

Only in the last few years have I really noticed something: the religious leaders repeatedly accused Jesus of breaking the Law, yet Jesus never broke the Law. He broke the religious rules they had built up around the Law.

Jesus appealed to the Law and the Prophets often, frequently expanding on what they meant. That was common among religious teachers of His day. What was uncommon was the authority He spoke with and the authority He invoked. He went over the religious leaders’ heads. He didn’t carry their credentials (“How is it that this man has learning, when he has never studied?” John 7:15, ESV), yet He spoke like the most learned of teachers.

Sadly, arguments about truth today devolve quickly into personal attacks. Nowhere is that more visible than in political discourse. And because so much political discourse invokes religion, religious discussion also drifts from a pursuit of truth into arguments untethered from that pursuit, arguments more about winning than about what is true.

But we must come back to the reality that there is ultimate truth, and there is an external Creator who determines what is true. Jesus’ claims in today’s reading are huge on both counts. In John 8:31–32, He tells everyone listening, and the millions who have since read or heard these words, “If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (ESV). He doesn’t sugarcoat it. He is the One who teaches what is true. A little later in John’s Gospel He takes it a step further: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6, ESV). Bold words. Words He then backed up by dying on the cross, a substitutionary death for every person who puts their trust in Him.

But that isn’t the only truth bomb Jesus drops on these religious leaders. All of what Jesus taught is truth to live by, but as the argument heats up and they accuse Him of being in league with the devil, Jesus turns it back on them (“You are of your father the devil,” John 8:44, ESV). Then He makes a claim that sends them into a frenzy: “Truly, truly, I say to you, before Abraham was, I am” (John 8:58, ESV).

Jesus claims to have existed before Abraham, which is a God-move by itself. Then He doubles down by using the divine name the LORD gave Moses at the burning bush: “Say this to the people of Israel: I AM has sent me to you” (Exodus 3:14, ESV).

It is impossible to overstate how big this claim is. Any argument against Christianity has to find some way to diminish who Jesus is. People will accept that He was a good man, a good teacher, even a prophet, but not God. The trouble is, that doesn’t fit the facts. Jesus claimed to be God. There are many other places He does so, but this one stands out, because the religious leaders understood exactly what He was saying, and they hated Him for it. They picked up stones to kill Him (John 8:59).

C.S. Lewis laid out what’s often summarized as the trilemma in Mere Christianity: there are only three options for who Jesus was. He was a liar, a lunatic, or He was, and is, Lord.  Lewis’ warning was against the common notion that Jesus could be merely a great moral teacher without being divine. He wrote: “I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: ‘I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept His claim to be God.’ That is the one thing we must not say. A man who said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic – on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg – or else he would be the devil of hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon, or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to” (C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity)

When we face this question honestly, the only way to truly answer it is to do what Jesus said in John 8:31–32: abide in His word and come to know the truth. When we do, we run smack-dab into capital-T Truth… and His name is Jesus.

Who do you say Jesus is: a good teacher, or the great I AM?

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Matthew 18

Matthew 18 brings Jesus’ upside-down kingdom close to home. It’s a kingdom radically different from the world system we live in, and humility is one of its hallmarks.

The chapter opens with the disciples trying to figure out who is the greatest. Jesus answers by calling a little child to stand among them: “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3, ESV). My pride, my competence, my long list of qualifications don’t count for much in God’s kingdom. What matters is humility, recognizing God, and placing Him and others first. Jesus will show us this Himself when He, God in the flesh, humbles Himself and goes to the cross (Philippians 2:5–8).

Then He gives another picture of the upside-down kingdom. A shepherd leaves the ninety-nine to search for one lost sheep (Matthew 18:12–14). Common sense says you protect what you’ve got. You don’t put the whole flock at risk for one lamb. Yet that’s exactly what Jesus describes. In His kingdom, each individual matters so much that the risk is worth taking.

And then we get to forgiveness. Oh boy.

I’m in the middle of a situation where someone mistreated a family member and has refused every attempt to reconcile. I’ll admit it: this one is very hard for me.

But when I read the parable of the unforgiving servant (Matthew 18:21–35), I see how much I’ve been forgiven. For years I lived with one foot in the kingdom. I was in the church, but I held back part of my life from surrender. When Jesus forgave me and offered me life in Him, He forgave all of my sin. That included the sins I had already committed and the sins He knew I would commit in the future.

Now He calls me to be an agent of that forgiveness. When I extend it to others, they might catch a glimpse of the kingdom, and at the very least, I won’t be a hindrance to their turning. The process Jesus lays out in verses 15–17 shows the one who sinned against us what God’s forgiveness can look like. Our forgiveness is meant to mirror what God has already done for us and what He wants to do for the other person (Ephesians 4:32).

At the end of the chapter, Jesus says we are to forgive our brother “from your heart” (Matthew 18:35). In that culture, the heart was the center of a person’s being: mind, will, and the essence of who they are. So forgiveness can’t be only an intellectual decision. It includes that, but it goes all the way to the core of who we are. Because we are a forgiven people, we can be a forgiving people who extend God’s grace even when it isn’t deserved. When we do, the Holy Spirit is free to do the work only He can do in reaching that person’s heart.

I’ll be honest that part of my struggle is follow-through. The Lord has led me to do this before, and I’ve seen some pretty special results. Something else happens when we release an offense with our whole heart. God takes our hearts and our lives and shapes us more and more into the image of Christ (Romans 8:29).

Paul says, “We have the mind of Christ” (1 Corinthians 2:16). But that mind isn’t something we fully possess the moment we come to faith. We can spend our entire earthly lives pursuing it with faithfulness and steadfastness, and it will still stretch out ahead of us. It’s the love and faithfulness Jesus showed as He rode into Jerusalem, knowing He would be maligned, falsely accused, falsely judged, and crucified.

Being shaped into that likeness is a process of deciding, over and over and over, that I am going to forgive. Each time, God changes my heart a little more. Forgiving from the heart opens the way for the Holy Spirit to change our own hearts. I suppose that’s what being a child of God is all about.

Question to consider: Is there someone you’ve forgiven in your mind but not yet from your heart? What would it look like to release them fully to God today?

Be blessed today, and be a blessing.


GroupMe version

Matthew 18 shows us Jesus’ upside-down kingdom. The disciples argue over who’s greatest, and Jesus points to a child. In His kingdom, humility counts for more than our pride and qualifications. A shepherd leaves ninety-nine sheep to find one, because every person matters that much to God.

Then comes forgiveness, and that one’s hard for me right now. I’m dealing with someone who mistreated a family member and won’t reconcile. But the parable of the unforgiving servant reminds me how much I’ve been forgiven: every sin, past and future. I’m called to extend that same grace.

Jesus says to forgive “from your heart” (v. 35). That means my whole being, not just a decision in my head. When I do that, the Holy Spirit can work in the other person, and He keeps shaping my heart into the image of Christ too. It’s a choice I make over and over.

Is there someone you need to forgive from the heart today? Be blessed, and be a blessing.

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Matthew 15 and Mark 7

Today we see a familiar theme, along with a story that often confused me before I became a student of the Bible. Let’s dive in and see what Jesus has to teach us.

The familiar theme is Jesus confronting the hypocrisy and religiosity of the Jewish leaders. We also see two different long-distance trips in today’s passages. The first is the religious leaders traveling all the way from Jerusalem to chastise Jesus because His followers weren’t keeping their traditions. The text doesn’t tell us, but I wonder whether they came on a fact-finding mission to “check out this new teacher,” or whether they came specifically to get Jesus and His growing following to behave and follow their rules. Either way, what they got was not what they hoped for. Instead, Jesus clearly articulated God’s perspective on man-made religious rules being wedged between God and man.

Jesus came as the ultimate bridge between fallen humanity and God. Even as He taught about the Kingdom of God (also called the Kingdom of Heaven), He was setting the stage for His own sacrifice, the means by which every person could be made right with God. The religious leaders were building a path that ultimately led to a dead end. There might be some self-satisfaction in following all the rules, but the sin debt we all owe could only be satisfied by a sacrifice… a sacrifice Jesus would soon accomplish.

I want to circle back for a moment to the trip these leaders made. The 80 or so miles from Jerusalem to Galilee was not the simple hour-and-a-half drive we might make today. It was a multi-day journey through areas known for bandits and other ne’er-do-wells, and traveling as a group may have been partly for safety. This mattered to them. Their reputation seemed to be at stake. They were likely also worried about stirring up the Romans. In John, which we read yesterday, a populist movement was already forming that wanted to make Jesus, the powerful, miracle-working rabbi, into the military messiah they had been hoping for.

But Jesus was having none of it, neither from the crowds who wanted to make Him an earthly king nor from the religious leaders who wanted Him to conform to their rule book. What He did do was speak clearly to the leaders, then to the people, and then in more detail to His disciples about the Kingdom of God. And then He set out on a multi-day journey of His own.

The story of the Syrophoenician woman always struck me as a little odd. But learning the context, and especially digging into the meaning of the original words, turned odd into beautiful. Here’s what changed and why it matters.

First, notice the similarity, and then the contrast, between the two trips. The religious leaders were likely already irritated at this rogue teacher upstaging them before they ever arrived. They came to correct, and possibly rebuke, Jesus. They left chastised and rebuked themselves. It was NOT a pleasant experience for them. Jesus then promptly left the Jewish region of Galilee and headed north into Gentile territory.

During this period of His ministry, the text frequently mentions Jesus teaching crowds and healing. We don’t see that here. We read about only one encounter: a Gentile woman begging Jesus to deliver her daughter. Jesus traveled into Gentile territory, a place “proper” Jews avoided at all costs, and He engaged with someone who was 1) a Gentile, 2) a woman, and 3) pushy enough to break past the disciples’ protective wall. That sounds like three strikes against her. But Jesus engaged her anyway.

Now comes the part that always made me uncomfortable. He refers to her as a dog. Wow. That seems out of character for the Jesus I know from the rest of the Gospels. The religious leaders wouldn’t have engaged her at all, but where’s the compassionate Jesus? This is where understanding the original language matters. The word Jesus uses refers to a little dog, a household pet, the kind of beloved puppy that lives under the family table. It is NOT the harsh insult it can sound like in English. And don’t forget, Jesus knew exactly what He was going to do. It is very likely that this woman was THE reason Jesus marched His disciples into foreign territory so far from home. This exchange, and the deliverance He gave, had to be critically important, or the Holy Spirit wouldn’t have prompted both Matthew and Mark to record it.

When I read this story and noticed that Jesus promptly left the area, I couldn’t help but think of the demoniac on the other side of the Sea of Galilee. Jesus delivered that man and then promptly turned around and headed back to Jewish territory. All the Old Testament prophecies pointed to a Jewish Messiah who would set His people free. In a few places we see that promise expanded to the Gentiles, but the primary audience was the Jews. And that’s exactly what Jesus did. His initial outreach was in Israel, but He also “seeded” His message into the lives of Gentiles, in at least these two places, through deliverance and healing. I can just picture this woman telling her friends about her encounter with Jesus as she points to her now healthy, whole daughter.

Today I am struck by how good the LORD is to reach out to us, no matter how far we might stray. He walks near enough to respond the moment we decide to seek Him. After the resurrection, we’ll see this intimacy with God go to a whole new level, as the Father places His Holy Spirit within each person who repents and surrenders their life to Him. But even before that, He is near… He pursues… He loves… and He gives us every opportunity to turn and become His child. That is a beautiful truth to rest in.

Where in your life might God be making a long trip just to meet you?

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Matthew 14, Mark 6, Luke 9

Reading today’s Gospel passages, I felt almost tired. The action is relentless, and the emotional weight comes early. John the Baptist, guilty of nothing but speaking truth to power, loses his life to a scheme hatched by Herodias and carried out through her daughter (Mark 6:17–29).

When Jesus hears the news, Matthew tells us he withdrew by boat to a desolate place by himself (Matthew 14:13). John wasn’t only his cousin. He was the forerunner who prepared the ground for Jesus’ ministry. I’m sure Jesus went to grieve and to be alone with the Father. But he didn’t get that, at least not at first. The crowds saw where he was going and followed him on foot. And when Jesus saw them, he had compassion on them (Matthew 14:14). Grieving, tired, and interrupted, he served anyway. That’s the servant leadership he still calls us to, and 2,000 years later it’s still rare.

The disciples were grieving too

I want to look at the disciples for a moment, because they had also heard the news. John was part of their story. At least a couple of them had followed John before they followed Jesus (John 1:35–40). John and Jesus preached the same message: repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. The handoff from John to Jesus was one of preparation and arrival, but I don’t think that was clear to them yet. Most still pictured a Messiah who would throw off the yoke of Rome. They didn’t yet see that the yoke Jesus came to break was sin, and the debt we owe for our failure to obey God, or that Jesus himself would take the death sentence in our place. What they did know was that John was dead.

And here’s something I hadn’t noticed before. This all happens right after the disciples return from the mission Jesus had sent them on, with authority to proclaim the kingdom and to heal (Mark 6:7–13, 30; Luke 9:1–10). They had seen God’s power at work through them. It must have been exhilarating. They were also exhausted. Jesus had even said, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while” (Mark 6:31). Then the crowd showed up.

“You give them something to eat”

The teaching lasted all day. The people were hungry and had a long way home. When the disciples suggested sending them away, Jesus answered, “You give them something to eat” (Mark 6:37). They were flustered. Where would they find food, even if they had the money?

The answer was a boy’s lunch of five loaves and two fish (John 6:9). It fed 5,000 men, and with women and children, the crowd could easily have been 15,000. This is one of the few miracles recorded in all four Gospels.

Notice what the disciples’ responsibility turned out to be. They didn’t have to produce the food. They had to take what Jesus gave them and put it into the hands of the people. That’s servant leadership too. Fresh off a successful mission, they were still shocked by the scale of what Jesus asked. And he showed them that no need is too big for the power of God.

Headwinds on the lake

Then comes one of my favorite stories in the Bible. Jesus makes the disciples get into the boat and go ahead of him across the lake, while he finally goes up the mountain alone to pray (Matthew 14:22–23).

I’ve been to Israel and stood on Mount Arbel, on the western shore of the Sea of Galilee. From the top you can see the whole lake. Just below it, a valley pass opens toward the Mediterranean, and the wind can funnel through it and whip up that part of the water. It was easy for me to picture Jesus on a mountain on a breezy, moonlit night, looking down and seeing the disciples straining at the oars against the wind (Mark 6:48).

Jesus knew what was coming. He knew they’d be rowing into headwinds, and that in their own strength they wouldn’t make it. He sent them anyway. Then, in the fourth watch of the night, he came to them, walking on the sea.

They thought he was a ghost. Maybe that fear was tied to hearing that John had just been killed. They were terrified, and they were spent. They’d come back from a big mission, wanted rest, ministered all day to thousands, watched Jesus feed them, and were now paddling through the night and getting nowhere. And then someone was walking on the water. Jesus said, “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid” (Matthew 14:27).

Peter, and me

Then Peter, only in Matthew’s account, asks Jesus to call him out onto the water. Jesus says, “Come.” As long as Peter keeps his eyes on Jesus, he walks on the water too. But when he sees the wind, he becomes afraid, begins to sink, and cries out, “Lord, save me” (Matthew 14:28–30). Jesus immediately reaches out and catches him.

Oh my goodness, do I recognize this in my own life. When trials and challenges come, or when too many things crowd in and I look at the things instead of the person of Jesus, that’s when I sink. That’s when my emotions run amok. That’s when I’m less loving to my wife, less thoughtful toward my children, and less kind to the people I meet.

But when I keep my eyes on Jesus, follow what he did and what he said, and let the Holy Spirit help me not just with the task but with my focus, the water isn’t what drowns me. That’s when I’m walking above the waves. That’s when I’m rowing into the wind and actually making headway. That’s when I’m living the servant life Jesus called me to.

And before we know it, the Lord gives us the opportunity to lead others into a relationship with him, into discipleship, and into faithful action of their own. Not because we’re strong rowers, but because we keep our eyes on Jesus, follow him, and let our lives be used as his servants.

A question to carry with you today: What wind or wave has your attention right now, and what would it look like to lift your eyes back to Jesus in the middle of it?

Have a blessed day.

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Today’s reading is Mark 4 and 5. First, a quick review of who wrote the four Gospels. Matthew and John were two of Jesus’ disciples. Matthew was a Jewish tax collector until he met Jesus and his life was turned upside down. John was probably the youngest disciple and was the brother of James. Luke was a physician turned historian, a Gentile convert, and a travel companion of Paul. Mark was most likely John Mark, a disciple of Peter. When I read Mark, I picture an older, wiser Peter preaching to the crowds while Mark takes notes, and then later, around a campfire, Peter telling the same stories from a more personal place.

Each Gospel shows Jesus’ life, ministry, message, and mission from a slightly different angle. For years after the resurrection, the disciples went about proclaiming the good news. Some of it may have been written down early, but the Gospels as we know them came together roughly 30 to 60 years after the resurrection, with John most likely last, written late in his life in Ephesus. I mention this because several stories appear in more than one Gospel, like the parable of the four soils, and it’s right to give extra weight to what is repeated.

I don’t have time for all the parables today, so I want to focus on a boat trip.

The storm

After a long, hard day of teaching, Jesus is the one who said, “Let us go across to the other side” (Mark 4:35). They set out across the Sea of Galilee in the evening. The first several times I read this, I wondered how anyone could sleep through that kind of rocking. But Jesus was fully God and fully human. He was tired, and he fell asleep on a cushion in the stern.

I’ve been to Israel, and while we were there a storm swept across that lake in a hurry. What amazed me was how quickly it left again. So I can picture this. But for the disciples it was nighttime, water was filling the boat, and it was about to sink. I’m sure they were bailing and rowing and getting nowhere. And Jesus was asleep.

They wake him with, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” (4:38). These men had already watched him do miracle after miracle. Mature faith takes time.

Jesus knew what he was doing. All creation was made through him, and when he speaks to the wind, it obeys. He rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” and there was a great calm (4:39).

This showed his power, but I think it showed something more: his compassion is real, and his compassion doesn’t keep us from every storm. Go back and ask who said, “Let’s get in the boat.” It was Jesus. He led them into the boat with a storm ahead. And the moment they turned to him, they received an immediate answer.

The other side

They left from the Jewish side of the lake and landed on the Gentile side, in the region of the Decapolis. On the Jewish side, Jesus often told people to keep his miracles quiet. He didn’t go to the Gentile side often, but when he did, it was for specific, God-ordained ministry.

This time it was a man possessed by many demons. When Jesus asked the name, the answer was “Legion, for we are many” (5:9). When the demons were sent into the herd of about 2,000 pigs, the pigs rushed down the steep bank and drowned. I don’t know whether that number says anything about how many demons there were, and Scripture doesn’t say.

What caught my attention this time was the contrast. The storm stopped at one word. Here, Mark tells us Jesus “had been saying” to the spirit, “Come out” (5:8), and there’s an exchange before the demons leave. I hold this loosely, but it makes me wonder whether active resistance to the kingdom of God calls for a different kind of perseverance from us than crying out to Jesus in a trial does. Jesus’ authority was never in question, but the encounter wasn’t a one-word moment.

Encounters with the evil one will come. A large part of Jesus’ ministry was rebuking and casting out demons. He rebuked the Pharisees too, but they didn’t recognize their need and didn’t want deliverance. This man did. When he saw Jesus from a distance, he ran to him and fell on his knees (5:6). Whatever had a hold on him, part of him wanted to be free of it, and it took an encounter with Jesus for that to happen.

Sent instead of kept

When the man begged to go with Jesus, Jesus said no. Instead he told him, “Go home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you” (5:19). I can see a couple of reasons. On the Jewish side, Jesus knew the resistance building against him would lead to the cross, so he kept things quiet there. That resistance wasn’t present on the Gentile side yet, so he sent this man out as a witness. And though the first disciples all came from Jewish heritage, the kingdom message was for all people. When persecution came, it went out to the whole world, and this man was an early sign of that.

In two chapters, Jesus shows his power over the forces of nature, his power over the forces of the evil one, and his compassion for his frightened disciples and for one tormented man in the Decapolis.

Question for today: Is there a storm in your life right now that you got into by following Jesus, and have you turned to him in it, or are you still bailing and rowing on your own?

Have a blessed day.

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One of Jesus’ favorite ways to teach was through parables, and Matthew 13 gives us a whole collection of them. The one shared by both Matthew 13 and Luke 8 is the parable of the sower. Having read through the Bible many times, I’ve come to see this as one of those parables we need to step into, ponder, and let roll around for a while.

Jesus first told the parable on its own. His disciples didn’t really get it, so they came and asked Him what it meant (Luke 8:9). And Jesus went deep. Both Matthew and Luke thought it was important enough to give us not just the story, but the explanation too.

What strikes me is how easy it is to sit back, look around, and sort other people into one of the four soils. And it’s telling that of the four places the seed lands, only one produces fruit. Three of them never get there.

But if all we do is evaluate everyone else’s soil, we’ve missed the point. The soil is the condition of the heart, its receptivity to God’s Word being planted. So the real question is about my own heart.

As someone who has surrendered my life to Jesus, I would love to say my heart is always soft and supple. The truth is, as I’ve grown and matured, I’ve realized my heart has shown every one of these soil conditions at different times. There are seasons when the Word lands and I’m simply not open to it. There are times when my soil is shallow.

But the most common one for me is the thorns: “the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful” (Matthew 13:22, ESV). Luke adds that they are choked “by the cares and riches and pleasures of life, and their fruit does not mature” (Luke 8:14).

We live in a busy world, and I’m inclined to be a busy person. The result is that God’s Word, and His purpose for my life, can get overlooked or minimized. It becomes one of many things I’m taking in and trying to act on. That’s exactly what Jesus is getting at. Good things can crowd out the best thing, the one thing of ultimate importance: allowing His Word to take root in my heart, to change me from the inside, and to accomplish what He wants through a life surrendered to Him.

I love that the good soil produces “in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty” (Matthew 13:23). What I read in that is that fruitfulness can grow. When I deal with the bad soil conditions, when I’m quicker to pull up the thorns and briars before they choke things out, and when I do the things that amend the soil and make it deeper and richer, the yield increases.

What are those things? A daily quiet time. Consistent Bible study. Gathering regularly with other believers for fellowship and encouragement. Even writing these devotionals. Each one is a way of amending the soil.

And the hard path? Luke says the seed that fell there “was trampled underfoot, and the birds of the air devoured it” (Luke 8:5). The answer is not to walk the well-worn way of the world, where the seed gets stepped on and the enemy snatches it away. Instead, be open to the Holy Spirit leading you off the path: to places of quiet, to people in need, and into the seasons of trial, suffering, and challenge, trusting the Lord to be with you through them.

All three unproductive soils can be transformed as we develop the daily habits that draw us closer to the Lord. The work God wants to do in us is a partnership where the Holy Spirit takes the lead. As I release control and give Him room to work in my heart, He transforms me to be more and more like Jesus, my Lord and Savior.

And the more I do, the more fruitful my life becomes. Thirty can become sixty, sixty can become a hundredfold, and the kingdom of God advances. That’s what I’m here for. That’s what you’re here for.

Which soil best describes your heart this season, and what is one habit you could start or recommit to this week to amend it?

Have a blessed day.

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