Grace assumes the best; pride suspects the worst.

Pride is remarkably confident about other people’s motives.

“He did that because…”

“She only said that because…”

“I know what they’re really trying to do…”

But most of the time, we don’t know.

Grace does not ignore sin or pretend that evil is good. But neither does it manufacture motives, presume guilt, or fill gaps in our knowledge with suspicion.

Grace asks before accusing.

Grace leaves room for explanation.

Grace is willing to believe the best that the facts will allow.

And when something truly is wrong, grace grieves rather than delights in having its suspicions confirmed.

Love does not require us to ignore sin.

It does require us to stop inventing it.

“Love… is not resentful… bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” – 1 Corinthians 13.5, 7

But I Had a Reason

We almost always have a reason.

A reason we became angry.
A reason we said what we said.
A reason we weren’t completely honest.
A reason we treated someone poorly.
A reason we refused to forgive.
A reason we did what we knew we probably shouldn’t do.

And sometimes our reasons are pretty good ones.
We were tired.
We were afraid.
We had been hurt.
Someone betrayed us.
We were under tremendous pressure.
We didn’t know what else to do.

The circumstances may be real. The hurt may be real. The pressure may be real.
But having a reason for doing something does not necessarily make what we did right.

There is an important difference between an explanation and a justification.

An explanation answers the question: Why did I do this?

A justification answers a very different question: Was I right to do it?

And those are not the same thing.

Scripture is filled with people who had reasons for what they did. Adam blamed the woman God had given him. Eve pointed to the serpent. Aaron had an explanation for the golden calf.

Saul had a reason for keeping what God had commanded him to destroy. He even made his disobedience sound spiritual. The animals, he explained, had been spared so they could be sacrificed to the Lord.
Samuel’s response was simple: “Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice.” – 1 Samuel 15.22

Saul had a reason. But his reason didn’t make his disobedience obedience.
And perhaps that is where we sometimes get ourselves into trouble.

We begin to believe that if our circumstances are difficult enough, our hurt deep enough, or our reasoning understandable enough, then what would normally be wrong becomes right. But our circumstances do not have the authority to rewrite what God has said.

That doesn’t mean circumstances don’t matter.

They can help us understand why someone did what they did. They can move us toward compassion. They can help us recognize the pressures, fears, wounds, or desires that contributed to a decision.

But circumstances do not define righteousness. God does. And before we apply that truth to someone else’s choices, we should probably apply it to our own.

I may have been tired.
I may have been frustrated.
I may have been treated unfairly.
I may have been deeply hurt.
I may even have a perfectly understandable reason for what I did. But if God says it was wrong, my reason cannot make it right.

Perhaps that is why one of the most difficult sentences for us to say is also one of the simplest: I was wrong.

No explanation.
No qualification.
No – “but you have to understand.”

Just confession.

And thankfully, Christians do not have to justify what God has already offered to forgive.

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” – 1 John 1.9

There may be reasons for what we have done. But God has not asked us to justify our sin. He has invited us to confess it.

Be Still, and Know

Photo by Warren Griffiths on Pexels.com

It is possible to stop working without actually resting.

You can leave the office while continuing the conversation in your head. You can sit down while mentally working through tomorrow’s list. You can take a day off and spend most of it thinking about everything you aren’t getting done. You can even go on vacation and bring your worries with you.

Sometimes our bodies stop long before our minds do.

Last week I wrote about Jesus telling His disciples, “Come away…and rest a while.” There is something important about recognizing our limits and learning to stop. But stopping and resting are not always the same thing. Sometimes we stop what we are doing only to discover how much we are still carrying.

Perhaps that is one reason these familiar words from Psalm 46 are so important: “Be still, and know that I am God.” – Psalm 46:10

Psalm 46 is not describing peaceful circumstances. The earth gives way. Mountains are moved. Waters roar. Nations rage. Kingdoms totter. And right in the middle of all that turmoil, God says, “Be still, and know that I am God.”

In other words, this isn’t simply an invitation to find a quiet place. It is a call to stop striving and remember who is actually in control.

Notice that God doesn’t simply say, “Be still.” He says, “Be still, and know.” Biblical stillness is not merely inactivity. It gives us an opportunity to remember what our anxious activity so easily forgets.

He is God. I am not.

He is sovereign. I am not.

He knows what tomorrow holds. I do not.

He is able to carry what I cannot.

He is at work in places I cannot see, and in circumstances I cannot control.

Sometimes the hardest part of resting isn’t stopping what our hands are doing. It is releasing what our hearts are carrying.

We rehearse conversations that have already happened.

We anticipate problems that haven’t happened.

We imagine outcomes.

We try to solve tomorrow’s difficulties today.

And somewhere along the way, we can begin carrying responsibilities God never actually gave us. That can feel like responsibility. It can even feel productive. But there are things we simply cannot control, no matter how many times we turn them over in our minds.

Jesus asked a wonderfully simple question: “And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” – Matthew 6.27

Worry accomplishes remarkably little for all the energy it consumes. Perhaps that is why genuine rest requires more than an empty calendar. It requires trust.

There are burdens we need to put down. There are questions we need to leave unanswered. There are circumstances we need to entrust to God. There are conversations we cannot control. There are outcomes we cannot guarantee. And there are tomorrows we need to leave where God put them – in tomorrow.

None of this means that we stop caring, planning, praying, or acting responsibly. It means that after we have done what God has given us to do, we trust Him with what He has not given us to control.

That may be one of the hardest forms of rest. But it may also be one of the sweetest. “Be still, and know that I am God.”

Sometimes we need to stop long enough to remember who God is.

And sometimes remembering who God is is what finally allows our hearts to rest.

Come Away and Rest Awhile

There is almost always something else that could be done.

Another email could be answered. Another project could be finished. Another room could be cleaned. Another phone call could be made. Another problem could be solved.

And if we aren’t careful, we can begin to live as though stopping is irresponsible.

After all, Scripture has a great deal to say about hard work. God does not commend laziness. We are called to diligence, faithfulness, and making good use of the time He gives us. There is something good about going to bed tired after a day spent doing what God has given us to do.

But apparently faithfulness also includes knowing when to stop.

After a particularly busy season of ministry, Jesus said to His disciples, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” – Mark 6.31

What makes those words especially striking is what Mark tells us next: “For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat.” There were people everywhere. There were needs to be met. There was ministry to be done. And Jesus said, Come away and rest. That is worth thinking about.

Sometimes we imagine that rest is what we do when everything else is finished. We will slow down when the project is completed. We will take some time off when things settle down. We will rest when there is nothing pressing that needs our attention.

The problem is that everything is rarely finished. There will always be something more we could do. Which means that if we only permit ourselves to rest when there is nothing left to do, we may never really rest at all.

Perhaps learning to rest is also learning to trust.

There is a kind of humility in stopping. When I stop working, I am reminded that I am not indispensable. I have limits. I get tired. I need sleep. I need quiet. I need time away. God made me that way. And while I rest, God does not.

The psalmist says, “He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep” (Psalm 121.4). What a comforting distinction. I need rest. God does not.

The world does not depend upon my constant activity. My family does not ultimately depend upon me. My church does not ultimately depend upon me. My work does not ultimately depend upon me. Everything ultimately depends upon Him.

That doesn’t make me less diligent. It frees me to work hard when it is time to work – and to rest without guilt when it is time to rest.

Of course, there are seasons that require unusual effort. There are late nights and early mornings. There are emergencies and deadlines. There are babies who don’t sleep, people who need us, unexpected problems, and responsibilities that cannot simply be postponed.

Sometimes faithfulness really does require us to keep going when we would rather stop. But those seasons should also remind us why rhythms of rest matter.

We were never designed for constant activity. And sometimes our refusal to stop may say less about our diligence than we think. It may reveal how difficult it is for us to believe that things can continue without us.

Rest reminds us that we are creatures – and God is God.

So sometimes the godly thing to do really is to take the afternoon off. To go for a walk. To sit somewhere quiet. To take the vacation. Maybe even to take the nap. Not because our responsibilities don’t matter. Not because diligence is unimportant. But because we trust the One who remains at work when we are not.

Jesus looked at tired disciples surrounded by unfinished ministry and unmet needs and said, “Come away…and rest a while.”

Maybe some of us need to hear Him say that again.

When a Sermon Rubs You the Wrong Way

Have you ever heard a sermon that rubbed you the wrong way?

Maybe something the preacher said bothered you. Maybe you disagreed with the way he said it. Maybe you walked away thinking he was too harsh, too strong, or simply wrong.
I have.

And sometimes, after thinking about it, I have concluded that I really did disagree. Preachers are not infallible. We can misunderstand a passage, say something poorly, or fail to explain something as carefully as we should.

But sometimes the problem was not the sermon. Sometimes the truth had simply gotten too close. And that is much harder to admit.

When a sermon makes us uncomfortable, it is remarkably easy to begin framing our understanding of the sermon around our feelings.
I felt attacked.
– That sounded unkind.
– I did not like the way he said what he said.

And before long, our reaction to the sermon becomes our interpretation of the sermon.

But feeling uncomfortable does not necessarily mean we have been treated unfairly. Sometimes conviction is uncomfortable. Sometimes correction is uncomfortable. Sometimes the Word of God confronts something in us that we would rather defend than examine.

James writes: “Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.” – James 1.19

We often use those words as general advice for relationships and communication, and rightly so. But James is writing about our response to the Word of God. A few verses later, he tells us to “receive with meekness the implanted word.”

Perhaps we need to learn to listen to expositional preaching with expositional hearing.

That means we do not begin with, “How did that make me feel?”
We begin with:
– What did the preacher actually say?
– What was he trying to communicate?
– What does the text actually say?
– And why did this bother me so much?
We would do well to listen prayerfully before reacting quickly.

That does not mean every preacher is right. It does not mean we accept everything we hear without discernment. We should open our Bibles. We should examine the text. We should test what is taught.

But biblical discernment and personal defensiveness are not the same thing.
One wants to know whether the message is true.
The other wants to prove that my reaction was justified.

How we respond when the Word confronts us may reveal more about our hearts than we realize.
– Pride is quick to speak, quick to defend, and quick to assume the problem lies somewhere else.
– Humility is willing to listen again. Humility opens the Bible. Humility prays, “Lord, show me what is true, even if I do not like what I find.”

The next time a sermon rubs you the wrong way, do not be too quick to dismiss it. Listen to it again. Open your Bible. Pray. And ask whether the truth that unsettled you might be the truth you needed to hear.

The Opposite of Zeal

Most Christians are not destroyed by sudden rebellion.

They drift.

A neglected discipline.
An idle hour.
A comfortable routine.
A growing indifference.

Little by little, zeal cools. Scripture warns us far more often about complacency than persecution.

Comfort has lulled more believers to sleep than opposition ever has.

God made us for purposeful work, disciplined living, and wholehearted devotion.

The battle for faithfulness is often won or lost in ordinary moments – in the small disciplines, daily duties, and unseen choices that shape our lives.

The opposite of zeal is not heresy.

It is indifference.

“Be doers of the word, and not hearers only.” – James 1.22

Take the Step

Many believers spend their lives waiting for perfect certainty before they obey God.

But faith rarely works that way.

Faith acts.

Faith obeys.

Faith moves forward trusting that God will prove Himself faithful along the way.

Will we sometimes stumble?

Of course.

But it is better to take a stumbling step of faith than to remain frozen by fear.

God does not call His people to flawless performance.

He calls them to trusting obedience.

The servant who attempts much for God may occasionally fail.

The servant who attempts nothing never learns the faithfulness of God.

Faith grows when exercised.

So take the step.

Trust the Lord.

And leave the results in His hands.

“Without faith it is impossible to please Him.” – Hebrews 11.6

Spiritual drift is rarely a sudden decision.

Spiritual drift is rarely a sudden decision. It is usually a gradual neglect.

A neglected Bible becomes an occasional Bible.

An occasional prayer becomes a hurried prayer.

A hurried prayer becomes no prayer at all.
Worship becomes optional.

Convictions become preferences.
Sin becomes tolerated.

And before long, a person finds himself farther from God than he ever intended to be.

That is why Hebrews warns: “We must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it.” (Hebrews 2.1)

No sailor drifts toward the harbor. Drift always carries us away from our destination.

The Christian life requires intentionality. Not because God is reluctant to keep His people, but because God uses ordinary means – His Word, prayer, fellowship, worship, and obedience – to keep us close to Himself.

If you feel distant from the Lord today, don’t wait for a dramatic spiritual experience.

Open your Bible.

Pray.

Gather with God’s people.

Take the next step of obedience.

The way back is often found in the simple things we first neglected.

The Shadow-lands

Wandering alone in the shadow-lands. That’s how I described life and ministry to a friend almost two years ago. Darkness seemed endless and (to be honest) my faith felt unstable. I was afraid of my weakness and overconfident in my abilities. (I had no idea what lay ahead. It was far worse than I could have anticipated.)

My friend did not respond to the plea of my aching soul as I hoped. In fact I initially despised his words. He said, “My first matter of prayer for you is that you will see God in the shadow-lands; that even without the good times, good feeling, and showers of blessings you will be satisfied with just Him, Himself … for however long God purposes to be the sole encouragement you have.”

I like chocolate. I like coffee. I like rich worship, family fun, and walking with my wife. I do not like pain…hurt…loneliness or suffering, at all! The words of my “friend” stung with the reality of my having to walk through the valley of the shadow.

My perspective for months was suffocating in grief and uncertainty. My friends perspective was that we, “would never choose to go (to the shadow-lands). But that is precisely why God wisely and lovingly superintends our paths to bring us there.”

The exhortation of my friend, was to seek and to see God in the darkness. His prayer was for my success, not my relief. Life during that entire season was extremely unsettling; which I discovered, was the point.

God does not need me, I need Him.

Are you currently in the shadow-lands? I urge you to spend some time with God here: Deuteronomy 8:2-3; Nahum 1:7; Exodus 14:13; Psalm 46:1-3; 2 Corinthians 12:9-11

“Such is the confidence that we have through Christ toward God. Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, but our sufficiency is from God.”

2 Corinthians 3:4-5

I am weak, but He is strong.

Missions: God is Worthy

GlobeIt has been reported that twelve hundred missionaries quit every year. Just let that sink in for a moment.

1,200 missionaries quit every 12 months.

Let’s back up in our thinking for a moment. Why do we engage in missions? We know that Jesus commissioned the Church to “go into all the world” and we certainly want to honor and obey His instruction. So, some people pack up and move to another place on the planet and some people stay, send support, and pray. Why?

God is worthy.

Missionaries are just like you and me. They are not super-heros, super-human, or super-christian. They have bills to pay, health issues, and their own unique family struggles. They have spiritual needs, physical needs, emotional needs, and fellowship needs.

Missionaries spend themselves learning a new language, a new culture, raising support, seeking appropriate training, and traveling (a lot). They have to figure out an entry strategy, base of operations, cross-cultural communication, and how to raise a family in a foreign environment. Ultimately they say “good bye” to their extended family and go where they typically don’t even have friends. Why?

God is worthy.

I do not know why so many missionaries quit every year. I imagine the reasons are as numerous as the people involved. Mission work is hard. It is challenging. It is dangerous. It will hurt. And for any number of real reasons, some will quit.

What I do know is that we can make a real difference. We have an obligation and opportunity to pray, support, and offer shepherding care (love) to our missionaries. Yes they need money. Yes they need intercessory prayer. They also need personal support, a listening ear, and a kind word. They need us to care about them, their children, and even (without condemnation) how they are coping with temptations, stress, or burnout.

My prayer is that our missionaries will feel more than “at home” at SCBC. My prayer is that they will feel safe, loved, nurtured, and edified. I pray we take our responsibility for them and to them seriously. To be perfectly honest, I don’t want any of our missionaries to become a statistic. Why?

God is worthy.