“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” – Philippians 4:13

That verse is probably one of the most frequently quoted in all of Scripture.  Usually, we think of it as a motivational verse when striving toward some dream or goal.  However, I think the apostle Paul had quite a different situation in mind when the Spirit moved him to write those words, and it should be a great encouragement to anyone who feels weighed down by the circumstances of life.  Let’s back up just a couple verses…

“Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need.  I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” – Philippians 4:11-13

Paul is in prison as he writes this.  Yet, he’s telling the Philippian church  that he is content in all situations.  He knows how to rejoice in abundance, but he also knows how to endure suffering.  How?  Because he is filled with the strength of Christ.  Paul is saying that Jesus gives us the strength we need to survive – and even rejoice – in the midst of life’s greatest difficulties.

Jesus gives us strength in all circumstances.  He is with us on the mountaintops of life, and we could never get there apart from his strength.  However, he’s also there in the valleys, walking alongside us as the Man of Sorrows and leading us onward as the conquering risen King.  As I’m working to see a church planted in Morgantown, WV, I certainly need the strength of Christ to see that high goal accomplished.  It’s something I strive after every day.  However, before Christ can strengthen me to plant a church, I need him to strengthen me to survive this workweek.  I need him to strengthen me in my discouragement before he can strengthen me for my triumphs.  Thankfully, that’s exactly what he’s promised he’ll do in Philippians 4:13.  So if you feel more like a demotivator than a motivational poster today, remember that this verse is still for you.  In fact, it’s especially for you.

“And at the end of two months, she returned to her father, who did with her according to his vow that he had made.” – Judges 11:39

My Scripture reading lately has taken me on a trek through the book of Judges, tracing the people of Israel as they went through a cycle of rebellion against God, repentance, and deliverance from their enemies by a man or woman whom God would raise up – only to be followed by renewed rebellion once that leader died.  In today’s reading, I came across what is surely one of the more puzzling accounts in all the Bible – the story of Jephthah’s vow.  Jephthah was a mighty warrior, the son of a prostitute whom God raised up to deliver the Israelites from Ammon despite his own brothers’ rejection of him as a bastard child.

In his battle against the Ammonites, Jephthah made a vow to the Lord to offer up the first thing to run out his door upon his return home as a sacrifice if the Lord would deliver the enemy into his hand.  He was victorious in battle, but upon returning, his daughter ran out to meet him as he approached.  Though greatly distressed, the text tells us that he fulfilled his vow, and his daughter, though saddened, submitted herself to her fate.  No moral commentary is offered by the author, but Jephthah later appears in Hebrews chapter 11 as a positive example of a man of old with great faith.  Considering that God had already made plain that human sacrifice is an abomination (and, incidentally, a big part of the reason that  the Ammonites were being driven from the land), how do we make sense of this?

Through reading the text as translated in the ESV, it would appear that Jephthah did indeed offer his daughter as a burnt offering.  This has always been my assumption, given the fact that the author of Judges offers no moral judgment of the action, simply presenting the events as they happened.  I’ve always taken the passage as a horrific warning against making a rash vow to God.  Why then, though, would Jephthah be commended in Hebrews as a man of great faith?

Perhaps there is another possibility.  Some biblical commentators point out that the Hebrew word translated as ‘and’ in verse 31 can also be translated as ‘or’ depending on the grammatical context.  This obviously would change the content of Jephthah’s vow dramatically, with him promising to either dedicate to the Lord or offer as a burnt offering the first thing to come out his door, whichever would be appropriate given context.  Thus, when we’re told he fulfilled his vow, what likely happened was that his daughter was given to the Lord’s service at the temple and unable to marry (which would explain the closing comments at the end of the chapter).  Such an interpretation would make sense of the text while also shedding light on how Jephthah could still be esteemed by God as one with a faith worthy of emulation.

From what I can gather, this approach seems to make sense.  Not only does it make sense of the passage in its immediate context, but it helps us to understand why the author of Hebrews mentions Jephthah in the light that he does.   What do you think?  Am I missing anything in approaching the text in this way?  Does anybody know what causes most modern translators to render the conjunctive in verse 31 ‘and’?  I’ll be interested to hear any thoughts in the comments.

“And the people served the Lord all the days of Joshua, and all the days of the elders who outlived Joshua, who had seen all the great work that the Lord had done for Israel…and there arose another generation after them who did not know the Lord or the work that he had done for Israel.” – Judges 2:6-7, 10

For a Christian leader, can there be any greater legacy to leave behind than the one that is written of Joshua?  All his days, and all the days of his fellow elders, the people served the Lord.  Joshua oversaw a nation that was faithful to follow the commands of God and serve him with joyful hearts.  As a church planter, my deep desire is that years down the road it can be said that we led and taught a people who served the Lord.  As spiritual leaders, we are entrusted with a great responsibility for those whom God has placed in our care.  James points out that we will be judged more strictly by God.  After all, “to him whom much is given, much is required.”  I pray that I might have the faithfulness of Joshua to teach and care for the people that God entrusts to me.

However, hidden within Joshua’s legacy, there is also a grave warning.  After the generation that followed Joshua’s leadership died out, we’re told that a new generation arose in Israel that did not know the Lord.  Apparently, though Joshua’s people were faithful to the Lord themselves, they were not faithful to teach their children about the Lord and his ways.  The responsibility for the spiritual well-being of children was plainly given to parents, and these parents were not faithful in guarding what was entrusted to them.  This failure didn’t show itself during their lifetimes, but it wreaked havoc over the generations to come.  The responsibility to teach our children to know and love God is one we still bear today, and as the father of one and soon to be two, I’m beginning to really feel the weight of it.

Our challenge as Christian leaders today is not merely to see that our people love and follow God, but that they teach their children to do so as well.  We cannot settle for good, obedient little citizens.  We must teach them the glory of God through Jesus Christ his Son.  The consequences of failure in this area may not be easily seen from Sunday to Sunday, but they will be stark and tragic in the generations to come.  In large part, the generations before us in our culture have failed in this responsibility, evidenced by our society’s continuing decline away from the faith.  So, if you have (or had) parents who were faithful in their God-given calling (as I do), thank them for their faithfulness and praise God for that gift.  If you’re a parent, seek to be faithful to guard the precious responsibility that has been entrusted to you in your kids.  And if you’re a leader in the church, make sure you take heed of not only Joshua’s great legacy, but it’s profound warning to us as well.

“Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” – Matthew 6:31-33

If you’ve been paying attention to the blog recently, you know that I and two other guys are preparing to plant a church next year in Morgantown, West Virginia.  That means that me and my family will be relocating sometime between now and then.  All three of us as church planters have made the decision to be bivocational planters, working full-time jobs to provide for our families while only receiving minimal support from the church.  The upside of this is that it will allow our costs to be far below the average church plant .  The downside is that it means a job hunt in a place we don’t live at a time that’s not the best to be job hunting.

Enter the above passage of Scripture.  Over the past few weeks, as I’ve begun to think about job options in Morgantown, I’ve been gripped with a fair amount of fear.  Will I find a job there?  Will it be enough to support my growing family?  Will it allow me the time I’ll need to invest in Frontier?  There are a ton of practical considerations, and the whole prospect is probably more intimidating to me right now than the work of actually planting the church.  Yet there it is, in black and white – Jesus tells me not to worry about the future and provision.  He promises that the Father sees, knows, and is faithful to provide what I need.  It’s such a simple promise, even a child can grasp it.  Still, I’m finding it so hard to simply trust it.

Why is faith this way?  Why, though I’ve been liberated from sin’s power, must the remaining sinfulness of my heart make it so much easier to understand the promises of God than to rest in them?  I need the Holy Spirit at work in my heart, removing my unbelief and planting me in the promises that God has made to me.  I need the humble attitude of the father of the demon-possessed boy in Mark 9, who, when asked by Jesus if he believed that Jesus could heal his son, said, “I believe; help my unbelief!”  God’s word is true; his promises are sure.  They simply remain for me to rest in – and by the good grace of his will, I’ll be resting in Morgantown next year.  If he’s calling me there, he’ll get me there.  The Derek Webb song “Awake My Soul” says it well…

I know no other source or name
Nowhere else can I hide
This grace gives me fear, but this grace calls me near
And all that it asks it provides

“Then Satan entered into Judas called Iscariot, who was of the number of the twelve. He went away and conferred with the chief priests and officers how he might betray him to them.” – Luke 22:3-4

Have you ever felt the pain of being betrayed by someone who was very close to you?  Being turned on by an acquaintance is one thing, but being betrayed by someone who you love and trust completely is one of the most painful experiences imaginable – just ask anyone whose spouse has ever cheated on them.  As I read this morning about Judas’ betrayal of Jesus, I thought a bit about the fact that the betrayal itself is one of the sufferings of the “man of sorrows” that we often completely gloss over.

Think of it this way.  Thanks to the commentary of the gospel writers and our familiarity with the story, we know the entire time we’re reading the story of Jesus’ life that it will end with Judas betraying him.  Even the name Judas has come to be synonymous in our culture with traitor, just as surely as calling someone a Benedict Arnold.  The point being, when we read of Judas betraying Jesus, we’re so familiar with the idea that we don’t think of the sting that would have come with his betrayal.  Now obviously, Jesus in his divinity knew all along that Judas would betray him, as he notes throughout the gospels’ tales.  Notice, though, that this knowledge was only because Jesus was divine, not because Judas in any way tipped his hand.  When Jesus announced to the disciples at the last supper that one of them would betray them, none of them instantly thought of Judas – in fact, they each wondered if they themselves would be the one.  All this shows us that from a human perspective, Judas was just as close to Jesus as the other disciples.  Evil may have been brewing in Judas’ heart for a while, but from an outward perspective this was a very real betrayal.

The kiss that Judas identified Jesus with would have been an emotional dagger.  If you’ve been betrayed similarly, think of the pain that it brought and then ratchet it up a notch, knowing that Jesus was being betrayed to his death by someone from his inner circle.  As you ponder that, let your mind be amazed at the pain that Jesus willingly experienced in order to secure our redemption.  We talk a lot about the physical pain of the cross and the spiritual pain of bearing God’s wrath, but he also took on a very real emotional pain in the breaking of one of his closest earthly relationships.

“I tell you that to everyone who has, more will be given, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away.” – Luke 19:26

The parable is a familiar one.  Jesus speaks of servants who were entrusted by their master with varying amounts of money while he was away.  The ones who made a profit off of their money were commended, while the one who hid his away and did not use it is were condemned.  The point is easy enough to see – God has blessed us with what we have that we might use it for his kingdom, growing the gifts he has entrusted us with.  Usually, I’ve thought of this lesson in terms of the talents, gifts, or material possessions God has blessed us with.  However, yesterday, I thought about it from a new angle.  What about our families?

God has blessed me with a great wife, a wonderful daughter, and another kid on the way.  I’ve been entrusted with much as a husband and father.  So, what am I doing with what I’ve been entrusted?  Along with God’s great blessing comes the responsibility to lead my family well, to raise my kids to know and love the Bible and to point them toward Jesus.  In doing so, I am being faithful to multiply the gifts that God has entrusted to me as our family becomes an incubator for the love of Christ.  My gifts from God aren’t just things and they aren’t just abilities – they’re also people, most importantly.  So, the next time you read that parable from Jesus, step back and consider whether its scope goes beyond what you’ve always considered.

“You do not have, because you do not ask.” – James 4:2

I’ve had that passage on the brain this week.  I’ve been reminded of God’s faithfulness in answering prayer twice in the last few days, as both Monday and today I’ve prayed for the opportunity to shine the light of Christ into the life of a friend, and twice that prayer has been answered with an unexpected conversation tailor-made for it.  It’s reminded me of the simple truth of the promises of God – a truth that I all-too-often forget.  Between those instances and the beginning of my trek through Derek Prime’s Practical Prayer, God has been impressing on me the value (and my need) of coming to him in prayer.  It’s been tremendously encouraging and a call to action.  I can think of many things in my life that concern me right now – my desire for our upcoming church-plant to bear fruit for the kingdom, the need for the right job to open up to make that move possible, the large task of fund-raising to support our plant, my current situation of having to work two jobs to make ends meet, my desire to raise Jordan to know and love the gospel, and my desire to be Godly in the way I love and lead my wife and our growing family all spin through my mind every day, and usually I feel tremendously inadequate for each task, let alone all of them.  Yet in each instance, I have the promise of God to hear and answer my prayers if I will but ask.  How often I’m lazy, asking half-heartedly or unexpectantly if I ask at all. 

I want a better prayer life.  God calls us to lay our anxieties on him, and that invitation hasn’t sounded as wonderful to me as it does today in a long time.  I’ve been reminded that he is faithful and true this week in a small way, and I aim to lean on that faithfulness more and more in every aspect of my life, big and small.  Last week, I felt very overwhelmed and discouraged about the sheer volume of things going on in my life.  This week, while circumstances haven’t really changed at all, I’m tremendously encouraged, because I’m not looking at any of those challenges as things I’ll have to accomplish.  God has always been faithful to me and has blessed me beyond belief.  I know he will continue to do so in the future.  All I have to do is ask.

…and I figure there’s a decent chance you might too.

“Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”

- Matthew 6:31-33

“And that servant who knew his master’s will but did not get ready or act according to his will, will receive a severe beating.” – Luke 12:47

Next time you sit down to read your Bible,  crack open a commentary, or peruse the latest Piper bestseller, keep in mind that what you’re doing is incredibly dangerous.  You’re seeking to more fully understand the will of God.  Don’t get me wrong, that’s a great and commendable thing.  However, have you ever stopped to consider the fact that every ounce of knowledge you take in serves to increase your accountability to obedience?  In Mark 12, Jesus tells a story about a servant who is a good manager and is put in charge of a large portion of the estate while his master is gone.  This servant knows exactly what his master expects.  However, he doesn’t count on his master coming home early, and the master arrives to find this servant drunk and beating the other servants.  Jesus points out that this servant, since he knew his master’s will and yet neglected it, would receive a heavy beating.  On the other hand, one who did not have his master’s explicit instructions but performed the same actions, though still deserving of a beating, would receive a light beating.  The point to the story is that the more we understand the person and will of God, the more we are accountable for obedience to his commands. 

That should be a sobering thought to us all.  Every bit of theological knowledge you gain could either be a great blessing – drawing you nearer in relationship to God – or a curse that testifies against you on the day of judgment.  Obedience is what decides which it will be.  In other words, your theological bookshelf could be a great source of blessing, or it could be the most dangerous piece of furniture in your house.  Every Sunday sermon you listen to could build you up as a follower of Christ, or it could come crashing down upon your head as evidence of a rebellious heart.  Am I trying to scare you away from studying the Bible?  Of course not.  I am, though, hoping that all of us will think a bit more carefully the next time we pursue knowledge of God, remembering that if we treat that means to an end as an end in itself, it could be the most tragic thing we ever do.

“When the unclean spirit has gone out of a person, it passes through waterless places seeking rest, and finding none it says, ‘I will return to my house from which I came.’ And when it comes, it finds the house swept and put in order. Then it goes and brings seven other spirits more evil than itself, and they enter and dwell there. And the last state of that person is worse than the first.” – Luke 11:24-26

In the process of sanctification, our lives are marked by a series of battles against sin.  Some things seem to blow up in our faces overnight, while other battles are long, hard, daily grinds to beat out sins that we fall into far too easily.  In either case, one of the most dangerous things we can do is to follow a moment of spiritual victory with the notion that we’ve got that one taken care of.  Complacency is the enemy of every Christian.  We need to remember that the process of growing in holiness is akin to driving a car up a steep mountain.  Taking your foot off the gas and shifting into neutral only guarantees that you’ll roll quickly backward.  It may not seem so at first as momentum carries you briefly forward, but it won’t be long before you inevitably come crashing back to the bottom of the hill.  With that in mind, and to use a twist on Jesus’ analogy referenced above, the next time you decide to do a little spring cleaning in your spiritual house, don’t just clean the house.  Remember to lock the door when you’re done.