Text: 13 Since we have the same spirit of faith according to what has been written, “I believed, and so I spoke,” we also believe, and so we also speak, 14 knowing that he who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus and bring us with you into his presence. 15 For it is all for your sake, so that as grace extends to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God.
Spotify:
12I thank him who has given me strength, Christ Jesus our Lord, because he judged me faithful, appointing me to his service, 13 though formerly I was a blasphemer, persecutor, and insolent opponent. But I received mercy because I had acted ignorantly in unbelief, 14 and the grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. 15 The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. 16But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life. 17 To the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.
1 Timothy 1:12-17 (ESV)
The apostle Paul was fond of reminiscing on his conversion. In writing to his prodigy-disciple, Timothy, he breaks into praise while remembering the drastic transformation Christ Jesus effected in Him on the road to Damascus. Paul was once a “blasphemer, persecutor, and insolent opponent” to the gospel. He hunted Christians down to imprison them. But God’s mercy took hold of him; Paul met Jesus on a dry desert road, and his life was never the same.
There is an amazing thought in the old gospel hymn, “Amazing Grace.” In the second stanza, John Newton reflects on the moment God’s grace captivated him completely. He sings:
How precious did that grace appear The hour I first believed
Recently, I have been taking time each morning in my prayers to meditate and thank God for the “hour I first believed.” For me, although I grew up in the church and always believed in God, this special hour fell on a brisk weekend in January, 2014, when I went on a weekend retreat at a small youth camp in the rustic town of Stokesdale, North Carolina. Looking back, the Holy Spirit was priming me for this weekend—I had been struggling under the conviction of specific sin patterns in my life that seemed impossible to overcome. I was desperate for anything to set me free from my bondage to shame, guilt, and condemnation. Little did I know, God had prepared this weekend far in advance to open my eyes to the freeing grace found in Christ’s death on my behalf.
On the first night, after a series of four talks on God’s plan in creation, our purpose in knowing Him, and His grace unto sinners, I was ready to receive the last talk of the evening: “Prodigal.” It was probably around 9 o’clock at night (we wouldn’t know because during the weekend we didn’t have access to phones for the purpose of spiritual focus, something we all agreed to before coming). The leaders led us 20 or so guys into the side conference room, which was lined with chairs, and in front of the room there was a podium to the right, and a huge wooden cross propped on stilts to the left. The room was fairly dark, but a light shone on the cross, making it the focus of the room. We all sat and waited. It was dead silent. Finally, a young man entered the room and walked towards the front. I noticed he was one of the youth who was on the weekend with me, which I thought was strange (later did I find out there were youth there who had been before but had returned to serve and give talks throughout the weekend. I returned to this camp several times to give talks after my original weekend.) After an initial pause, the youth spoke, reading these words from Luke 15:
Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them.“Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living.
It was the story of the Prodigal Son. The young man read the entire parable, and then shared his testimony about how he was the young son who had run from the Father. In stuttered yet impassioned words, He explained how Christ’s death was the reason we could return Home to the Father. These verses were the pinnacle of the story:
“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
The son, who had squandered the inheritance of his father on prostitutes and wild living, stumbles home to his dad, and with a downcast face, says:
‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.
But the father, with such redeeming words, responds:
Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. 24 For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.
The young man giving the talk that night ended with a call to all of us: “Come home.” In that hour, in the dark, staring at the cross, I realized I was this prodigal son, living off the grace that God had granted to me all through my life—yet rebelling against him by the sin I was indulging in. But I knew my estate: my sins left me in a “pig sty” of shame and guilt. I knew I needed to come home, but I didn’t know how.
But here there was grace. I placed myself in this story. And as I stumbled home, the Father saw me and ran. He placed upon me a “ring and a robe.” In story form, this was the gospel: God the Father had done everything for me by sending His own perfect Son, who traded His precious life for me, so that I could return home in forgiveness and redemption. This was grace: that He gave me forgiveness and favor even though I deserved punishment.
That night, the Spirit gripped my heart. I cried endless tears, wrought over the weight of my sin. God was ripping my heart open to receive His grace. He was cleansing me through and through, all with the story of the Prodigal Son. That night, I came home.
We ended the evening by nailing a piece of paper to the wooden cross. On that paper, we wrote the sins we were bringing to the cross to have washed and forgiven. With each pound of the hammer, I thought of Jesus’ suffering for me on that bloody cross. As I walked away, with tears streaming down my face, I knew that Jesus had forgiven me.
Even as I type this, I am overwhelmed with the reality of God’s saving power in my life. I cannot deny it. That weekend, He saved me. For the rest of the weekend, we sang lyrics from a popular song at the time called “Redeemed” by the band Big Daddy Weave. I raised my hands in freedom to this chorus:
I am redeemed, You set me free So I'll shake off theses heavy chains And wipe away every stain Now I'm not who I used to be I am redeemed
Jesus had bought me. He had saved me. The Father welcomed me home through Jesus’ gracious gift of his life.
O Christian, do you remember the sweet time of “when you first believed”? Do you remember the most stark manifestations of God’s grace in your life?
I know that not everyone can look back at one moment and remember “getting saved”; for some, faith in Jesus has always seemed natural. And praise God for that! But I do think we can all recall moments in our lives where the gospel of grace moved with such force upon our souls that we couldn’t deny the presence of the Holy Spirit in the moment. And oh!—how sweet it is to remember such times.
We all, like Paul, can now echo these words: “formerly I was.” Why? Because the gospel changes us. “If [you] are in Christ, you are a new creation…the old has passed away; behold, the new has come” (2 Cor 5:17). In Jesus, we are able to bury our old selves through His death, rising with Him in new life—the eternal life that He gives.
It would do us well to remember the miraculous, Spirit-sealed change that God has brought into our lives. He has brought us home, granting us “adoption as sons.” He has cleansed us in full, giving us “redemption through his blood.”
All this, but why?
Paul gives us the answer. God gives us this mercy for so much more than mere salvation. Right after reflecting on his transformation, look what Paul declares as the reason God saved him in verse 16:
But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life.
God saved Paul so that he might be an “example” to those who would believe. Paul recognized that God wanted to use his testimony to help others see the “perfect patience” of the Savior. God wants to use us the same.
I think upon my life: how many times I rebelled against the Lord, turning my back on His way. Thousands upon thousands of times, I denied Him. Yet thousands upon thousands of times, He waited. He was so patient with me, not giving me what I deserved. And then in grace He saved me, giving me more than I could’ve ever asked for: freedom from sin and reconciliation with Him.
Like Paul, we too should join in this realization: that God has saved us as “an example” to others. How is your testimony an example of Jesus’ “perfect patience”? What have you been redeemed from? Oh, Christian, how sweet it is to live remembering the precious touch of Jesus upon your life! And how much sweeter it is to use our lives as a testament to His life-changing, soul-saving, freedom-giving grace!
Yes, though “formerly I was _____________, now I have received mercy.” For every believer, that is the roaring refrain. You fill in the blank with your own testimony.
The end of all this is that we bring glory to the Father. Paul declares in verse 17:
To the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.
Why did we receive mercy? For God’s glory. Why were we saved? For God’s glory. We are simply the stage upon which God plays out His “perfect patience.” Each of us is a divine work of art, in which our stories collide with the One True Story: the gospel. I can’t explain how this works: all I know is that God has invaded our stories with the gospel. And I know it to be true.
From now and for eternity, our lives are directed by a new plot: the glory of God. “Forever and ever” to Him be the glory. “Forever and ever,” we live for Him. For every day, we must meditate upon this gospel grace.
Oh, Christian, will you believe this? “Forever and ever,” will you say with me:
“Formerly I was…But I received mercy.”
When I look at an empty campus, I am reminded of Jesus’ parable found in Mark 4:26-29:
And he said, “The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground. He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how. The earth produces by itself, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. But when the grain is ripe, at once he puts in the sickle, because the harvest has come.”
Summer months for college ministry are often slow, but during this time I am reminded of the purpose of such seasons. In the parable above, the man scatters seed on the ground. Jesus is fond of using agricultural metaphors to describe how his kingdom grows. In essence, the “ground” is wherever the gospel has not been proclaimed. So when I look at an empty campus, all I see is room for the gospel to be proclaimed. I see an empty field ready to be filled with seed.
Now, that may not make much sense given there aren’t many students here over the Summer. Yet, this is precisely my point. Ground cannot simply be sown into without cultivation. In other words, there has to be some pre-work done by the farmer to prepare for the coming days of scattering seed.
In the same way, I would be much a fool to stumble onto this campus mid-August believing I have fertile soil on which to scatter seed. When I look at this beautiful campus and imagine students hanging out on the lawn, walking to classes, or catching shade under the trees—now, while these things aren’t happening—now is when I am reminded to cultivate the ground.
But how does one cultivate an empty field? Again, Jesus gives us the answer with another agricultural metaphor. In Matthew 9:37, after he has “compassion on the crowds,” he turns to his disciples—his farmers!—and says, “therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest, that he may send out laborers into his harvest” (emphasis mine). What is the verb of this sentence? What is the action? Prayer. Prayer alone. Who does the “sending,” according to this verse? The Lord. The Lord alone.
What then is the role of the gospel worker in cultivating the ground? Prayer is the role. Praying to the One who is Lord over the harvest is much like “tilling” the ground, aerating it, making sure it has the proper nutrients before the seed is dumped into it. Perhaps then these Summer months should be given to intense, earnest prayer before the Lord to prepare for the Fall—to prepare for the harvest.
Sowing Freely
When a farmer first plants the seed, it can be difficult to keep the finished crop in mind. In fact, it takes such a long time that if the farmer isn’t persistent, the crop will be lost. When I look at the empty field, I must remember what the end result will be: a harvest. This takes persistence, prayer, and focus.
Truly, I believe we in the Church have become so disillusioned with the “slowness” of the growth process that we give up altogether on discipleship and evangelism. We have become accustomed to such fast-paced results—an instant “like” as soon as you post, a one-day delivery for the item you need, a less-than-one-day response for a text message. It is quite unusual that if we don’t get these things quickly, we become disappointed, or even worse, insecure. “He didn’t reply to me… is he mad at me?” “I got 10 less likes on that post than the last one…maybe I should delete it.”
In the same way, we have become so results-oriented in our ministry efforts. If we share the gospel just once, we immediately expect a result. When someone turns us away, we throw up our hands and resign, saying, “I tried…but it doesn’t seem to work!” But did we really try, or were we just looking for an immediate result?
I wonder what would happen if a farmer had the same attitude! What if he went out into this massive, empty field, clutching in his hand only one tiny seed, barely crossing the corner of the field—just far enough to find a convenient spot to plant—and then he proceeded by rapidly digging up the soil, throwing the seed in there carelessly, putting the soil back, and running away, never to return? What should he expect with so frivolous a method? A full, golden field of crop? By no means! But my, isn’t this exactly how we tend to treat the seed of the gospel?
Indeed, we think just one little seed is enough to produce a result. We are so timid with it too, thinking we only have one shot at the matter. We get uncomfortable going too far into the harvest field. We are afraid of getting “dirty” by interacting with lost people. We would much rather stay inside our insulated walls. And if we even have a gospel conversation, we rapidly dig up the “soil” of the sinner’s heart, throw in one tiny comment about Jesus, then close the soil for good. We clap our hands, running away so giddily: “I did it! I sowed a seed!” And then we wonder why that person never seemed interested in our message in the first place.
Oh, Church, what should we expect with so sorry a method! This is not the farmer we see in the parable. He goes out to the field and sows freely. The seed is always ready in his hands, looking for a fertile entryway into tender soil. Do you weave the gospel into the soil you walk on throughout your day? Are your feet readied with the “gospel of peace” (Eph 6:15)? Do you see your neighborhood as a place to engage people with the good news, or is it simply your destination of comfort after a long day? Is your work simply where you make a paycheck, or are you burdened for the eternal state of your coworkers? What if, instead of just one little seed, we always carried around with us a basket-full of good news—ready to share whenever the opportunity may present itself?
Pray the Uncomfortable Prayer
“Oh, but how do I even begin?” You may ask. What did Jesus recommend? That we pray. Do you have a list of 10 family members, friends, coworkers or neighbors whom you know are far from God that you pray for daily? This would be a good starting place. As you pray earnestly over these people, the Lord will begin to break your heart for them. As you ask the Lord for opportunities to evangelize, don’t be surprised when the Lord gives them to you throughout your day. If we are honest, the reason we don’t pray this prayer is because we love one thing: comfort. It will always be awkward to bring up the gospel with someone, whether you’ve known them for your entire life or you just met them in a coffee shop. These are eternal matters. But they matter eternally. Will you sow seed? Will you see empty fields as a way to pray? Will you take the time to map out and pray over people whom you know are far from God?
As I become increasingly burdened for this campus, ready for the Fall, I long to see just one student walk across it. Something tells me that if I am burdened over the one, then when the campus is full, that burden will be unbearable. And it is when the burden is unbearable that the good news of Jesus bears miraculous weight. I will communicate what I cherish, and break over what burdens me. If I cherish the gospel and break over the brokenness of the student, then I will share the gospel. It is that plain and simple. Oh, Lord, don’t let me be a one-seed sower. May I spread the gospel freely as if I am in love for the first time, for it was the gospel which first told me of your love for me. I desire that others know of such good news, so may my lips be ready to speak it to anyone you put in my way. Amen.
Practical Tools For How to Share Your Faith:
“Lift up your eyes on high and see: who created these? He who brings out their host by number, calling them all by name; by the greatness of his might and because he is strong in power, not one is missing.”
– Isaiah 40:26
One of my favorite things to do on a clear night is to venture outside and look up at the stars. For as long as I can remember, I have always been drawn to the sensation of being enveloped in the stillness of the night. No busyness, no rush–just the sound of crickets humming and the gentle flicker of the stars illuminating the darkness. For me, the canvas of the night sky is one of God’s most beautiful creations, showing off his creativity and splendor in such a spectacular manner. I truly believe that when we look at the night sky we are meant to be awestruck by the works of God: awestruck by the magnitude of the beauty that surrounds us, taken aback by the glory of the lights, recognizing that there is One who created the heavens and the earth, that we should praise Him.
Apart from the sheer beauty of the night sky, I love how this verse in Isaiah reveals another reason why the stars exist: to show that God is in control of our lives. Isaiah 40:26 literally commands us to “lift up [our] eyes on high and see”. Practically, I think that means to get up, go outside at night, and take a look at the stars. See their splendor; watch how they glisten and blaze. Trace the constellations and track the Milky Way. Look upon the moon and observe how its luminous beams cover the earth in a dim but peaceful light. Simply go out and look. Do it tonight if you can (weather permitting!)
What will be the result, according to this verse? We will ask ourselves this question: “who created these?” Notice how the scripture reads: first, we “lift [our] eyes on high and see”; second, we ask ourselves who created what we see. It is a simple formula that describes human nature. We observe, then we ask. Here, we find that in the face of majesty, the natural impulse of the human heart is to question who is responsible for it. When we hear a good song, we want to know who wrote it. When we see a beautiful painting, we want to know who painted it. In the same way, when we see the night sky, we want to know who designed it.
“…in the face of majesty, the natural impulse of the human heart is to question who is responsible for it.”
Fortunately for us, we don’t have to search far for this answer: the Bible is marked with countless records of the One who “created the heavens and the earth” (Gen 1:1). The Bible says that “we are without excuse” when it comes to belief in Him, because His “eternal power and divine nature” are so clearly autographed in “the creation of the world, the things that have been made” (Rom. 1:20). Everything you see, from the bustling of the ant to the raging of the sea, is meant to display God’s power and nature. His creation describes who He is. He is the Lord. He is creative. He is good. He is powerful.
Therefore, when we look at the night sky (as this verse tells us to do), we are never left wondering who is responsible for the beauty and splendor of what we see: the answer is right before us. This verse in Isaiah tells us that the One who created the stars of the sky is the very same One who brings them all out “by number, calling them all by name.” Do you hear the power in that statement? The Lord–the One who created the heavens and the earth–calls all the stars by name, knowing their very number. Can you comprehend that? If there’s one thing this verse tells us, it declares that the Creator is in control.
Think about it this way: if you venture outside on the clearest night, you will see many stars—but you won’t see them all. The expanse of the universe, coupled with the city lights and earth’s atmosphere, all shield our eyes from the vastness that is in the heavens. The human eye can only detect about 5,000 stars on the clearest night; most cosmologists estimate that there are at least 100 billion stars in the observable universe. With some quick calculations, that means the human eye (on its best day) can only perceive 0.000005% of all the stars in the universe. Yet listen to what this verse says: God calls every star “by name.” By the “greatness of his might and because he is strong in power, not one is missing.” He knows every star in the universe, all 100 billion of them, and there is never one missing from His sight.
What can that mean other than the fact that God is in complete control? He is sovereign. If He can manage a universe of billions of gigantic, luminous, cosmic balls of gas and remember their names, surely He is in control of your life. Not surprisingly, this is the theme of the entire 40th chapter of Isaiah: He has measured the depths and heights of the seas and the sky (v. 12), the mountains are “weighed” on scales (v. 12), the nations are “like a drop from a bucket” in His hands (v. 15), the people of the earth are “like grasshoppers” to Him (v. 22). The Lord is absolutely sovereign. He is in control. His greatness is all around, and there is no escaping it. “To whom then will you compare me, that I should be like him? says the Holy One” (v. 25). In the face of such sovereignty, we are awestruck: there is nothing to do but bow and recognize our place in the universe. In the light of 100 billion stars–and in the presence of the One who is in control of those stars–we are nothing.
“If He can manage a universe of billions of gigantic, luminous, cosmic balls of gas and remember their names, surely He is in control of your life.”
For many of us, this is scary. We are faced with the absolute reality of an all-knowing, all-seeing, powerful God who He perceives from afar every little detail of our lives, searching every corner of our messy hearts. The things we say and do when no one is around, He sees. The thoughts we have towards other people which we believe are safe in our little minds, He knows. We are confronted with our messiness–our sin–and in the face of such holiness, we are scared. Terrified. When Isaiah was faced with this reality, he cried “Woe is me!” (Isaiah 6:5). Like Adam and Even in the garden, our first instinct is to cower away in shame and fear. We aren’t good enough–and we know it. Who are we to even stand in the presence of this mighty God? For many of us (if we admit it), there is a vast disconnect between our humanity and the sovereignty of God. We are more scared of God than we are in love with Him.
Yet listen to what else this beautiful chapter of scripture tells us. Right before Isaiah declares the sovereignty and power of God in verses 12-26, he comforts his readers with yet another characteristic of God: His compassion. Verse 11 says:
“He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young.”
Think about that. The God who created 100 billion stars and calls them by name, the God who knows all of who you are–all your mess, all your dirt, all your guilt and shame–is the same God who is gentle and kind, desiring to “gather” and “carry” you in His arms, tending and caring for you, as a shepherd would tend His sheep. He knows our weakness, He knows our humanity, yet He still loves us. In fact, He loved us so much that He sent His only Son to live in our mess and die a death that we deserved, all that we would be free before our Father, who cares for us. God is sovereign–yes–but He is also compassionate. He is loving. He cares for you. Just as he counts and knows all the stars by name (sovereignty), so the very “hairs of your head are all numbered” (compassion) (Luke 12:7).
So what does all this mean? Follow along with me.
What a powerful declaration for the believer to make: “my God is a God who is in complete control of my life, and He is my shepherd; I am His sheep. He is for me, and nothing can deter His will for my life.”
So rest in this today: He is completely sovereign, yet He is graciously compassionate. Through Jesus, who is our Good Shepherd, we are forgiven, taken care of, and secured. To end, I will quote the climax of this beautiful chapter:
“Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint”
-Isaiah 40:28-31
In Christ,
Cole
P.S. Don’t forget to go out and look at the stars.
“For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ”
– Galatians 1:10 (ESV)
In the above verse, Paul speaks to one of the most pervasive hindrances to Christian freedom in the 21st century: people pleasing. In context, he is scolding the Galatian church for so quickly abandoning the story of Christ, saying it has “[turned] to a different gospel” than the one he originally preached among them (Gal 1:6). Paul continues to explain the dangers of deserting the absolute truth of God’s Word for a counterfeit: if anyone should preach “a gospel contrary to the one [he] preached”, that person should be “accursed”–literally cut off from God (v. 8). These are harsh words, yet Paul stands up for the unpopular, raw gospel; he doesn’t allow what others think of him to sway his complete submission to the truth of Christ’s incarnation, life, death, and resurrection. Anticipating the backlash from those he just admonished, he asks himself the question we all need to ask ourselves when faced with the temptation to bow to a human knee: “am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God?”
Do you seek the approval of others before the approval of God? When faced with this question, it would be a lie for any of us to say “no”. We’ve all done it at one point or another, but if we aren’t careful, seeking others’ approval can manifest itself as a monstrous idol in our lives (one that is not very forgiving or easy to root out). The anxiety caused by the fluctuations in what others think about you, the emptiness felt after a prolonged period without hearing praise from another person, the endless search for security in other insecure human beings–people pleasing quickly becomes a vicious cycle of never quite being good enough. It will rip you apart as you become lost in the varying opinions of others. It will exhaust you as you seek to please those whom only God can: other broken, sinful human beings just like yourself.
Take time to consider your motives today in your work, your ministry, and your relationships: do you do what you do to earn the favor of others, or do you do everything “to the glory of God,” seeking to please Him in joyful obedience? To help you answer this question, below are four underlying reasons why you may be “seeking the approval of man” before the approval of God.
Everyone loves to be praised and recognized for their accomplishments, and to some degree, this is a good desire, as hard work should be recognized. But the desire to be recognized by others for your service, work, gifts, abilities, (you name it), is a form of people pleasing that becomes sinful when 1) we feel like we deserve it, or 2) we rely on it for our joy and satisfaction. Ask yourself this question: “if no one were to praise, recognize, or congratulate my work, abilities, or service to God for the remainder of my lifetime, would I still do it?” Be honest with yourself. How much do you rely on the praise of others to motivate you? Do you feel empty after a prolonged time without receiving recognition for your work? What about in ministry or in church: do you serve because you “need” to feel needed, or do you serve with a humble spirit through faith, knowing that God–out of everyone–sees your work and is pleased?
I feel this temptation most when I am teaching the Bible in front of others. My natural impulse after a lesson is that if no one says anything to me or tells me I did a “good job”, then I must not have had much of an impact on the crowd. Yet the truth here is that my gauge for success is skewed by my desire for recognition: what I should be concerning myself with is not what others say to me, but rather if what I taught was accurate to the testimony of God’s Word.
Pleasing God and God alone should be our sole motive in everything we do for Him, be it in church, at work, or in the home. So ask yourself: “do I root my worth in the recognition of others?” If so, rip those roots out and seek the approval of God, who bought you with the blood of Christ and will recognize you one day with the words “well done, my good and faithful servant” (Mat. 25:21).
Another clear reason why we may people please is that we are afraid of being rejected by others if we do not cave into what they want from us. Whether it is a more general fear of saying “no”, or it is more specific in that we are afraid of letting down a certain individual (be it your spouse, boss, friend, or even your child), the prospect of being rejected is likely the main reason why we turn to pleasing people instead of God. In our scripture from earlier, this was the type of people pleasing which Paul had to battle: instead of watering down the true gospel to be accepted by the Galatian church, he risked being rejected to ensure they heard the truth. Paul, who labored for years over his churches and loved them dearly, could have easily caved in to the pressure of changing his message to become more popular with his listeners. Instead, he chose to please God by holding true to who God called him to be, no matter how unpopular or “close-minded” it seemed.
Are you afraid of being rejected by others so much that you will do whatever they say, no matter how much it encroaches on your time or values? Is the word “no” just a mere whisper in your mind when it should be a more frequent declaration from your lips? Do you feel an ongoing tension between doing what others say and being obedient to Christ’s commands? Do you neglect to tell your unbelieving friends about Jesus because you are terrified of what they will think of you if you do? If you answered yes to any of these questions, you fear being rejected by others more than you seek the approval of God. To this I remind you: remember who you are. You are never forsaken because God is always faithful. It does not matter in the slightest what others think of you–whether they like you or hate you–because, Christian, if you are under the blood of Christ, you are eternally accepted in the eyes of God. “If God is for [you], who can be against [you]?” (Rom. 8:31). If the Creator of the universe bestows favor on you through Christ, why should it matter what a mere human thinks?
Third, perhaps another reason why you people please is that you never stop to find rest in Jesus. Whenever we neglect our time with our “Daily Bread” and “Living Water”, we quickly begin to replace it with things that exhaust quickly and gratify insufficiently. The approval of others creeps in to become our shallow hiding place. And in our culture, this is all too accessible. Instead of opening God’s Word and praying upon waking, we scan our fingerprint (or face) on some device and scroll through social media for hours a day. On sites and apps where you are valued by candid photos of life’s best moments or how many likes you received, the “quiet time” many of us consume is clearly not with God.
Where do you seek comfort? Is it in how many likes you receive on a post, the compliments you receive based on your appearance, the opinions of others? Whenever you feel insecure, do you run to a place where you are only valued for the part of life you choose to show, or do you run to the arms of the One who sees you for all of who you are and yet still loves you? There is a fountain that will never run dry, and that fountain is Jesus Christ. He says: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Mat. 11:28, emphasis mine). In other words, Jesus beckons you: “do not run to the approval of others which will not satisfy; run to me and me alone, and you will find refuge”. Seek Him today, Christian, for your soul needs Him. Take precious time every day with your Savior in prayer and in the Word. “Taste and see that the Lord is good” (Ps. 34:8). Find refuge in the “shadow” of His wings (Ps. 57:1). Ask Him to “satisfy” you in the morning with His steadfast love (Ps. 90:14). And when you are safe and secure in His arms, you will never need the petty praise of man to feel loved and valued.
Lastly, and perhaps most dangerously, is the notion that you people please because you fail to acknowledge the weight and significance of God’s Word upon your life. This type of people pleasing is subliminal: you base your morals and opinions on what society values versus what God values. You bow at the altar of what “feels” right versus what God decrees is right. You accept sin without even believing it is sin because “the majority of people say it’s ok”. You twist God’s Word to make it fit your agenda. In some respects, this doesn’t even seem like people pleasing. But it is. In a disgusting and devious form, this is people pleasing because it affirms the wisdom of man while denying the wisdom of God. Born out of doubting God’s sovereign power and control over all things, you begin to believe that God’s inspired Word must be wrong on some issues, because “God knew in the 21st century that humanity would deal with this” or that “God’s love is bigger than what was written 2,000 years ago”.
Search your heart: if you find yourself saying statements like this frequently, or if what you believe is “right” does not coincide with what God says is right in His Word–repent. You are playing the most dangerous people pleasing game of all: creating God in the image of human likeness. God’s ways are “higher” than our own (Isa. 55:9). Who are we, then, as sinful humans, to say that God is wrong and we are right? What makes society right on an issue just because it is more accepted in today’s time? The logic fails. Only God is right, and we must analyze in what ways we need to ask God to conform our desires to His Word–and not His Word to our desires.
The truth is that we all battle stubborn hearts that fight against submitting to God’s will; all of us turn too quickly to the pale promise of people pleasing, (for whichever of the four reasons), instead of resting assured in the promise of God’s approval bestowed upon us through Christ. But the beauty of Christ is that He melts our hearts of stone to give us hearts of flesh (Ezek. 36:26), making us desire Him more than anything else. The more you delight yourself in Him, the more you realize the shallowness of man’s empty praise. Do not turn to others for what only God can give you. If you believe in Jesus, you are bought with His blood, sealed with the Holy Spirit for the day of redemption. No word from human lips can change or take that away. Seek your recognition in Him. Place your worth in Him. Find your refuge in Him. Yearn to regard His Word as true and trustworthy. Do not please people. Please God.
In Christ,
Cole
“For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised either. And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ are lost. If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.”
1 Corinthians 15: 16-19
The cross would be futility and our faith would be absurdity if it wasn’t for the fact of the resurrection’s validity.
I think a lot of the times as Christians we focus so much on the cross that we forget about the resurrection. We celebrate it one day out of the year, when, in reality, we should celebrate it every day. Paul speaks in 1 Corinthians 15 about how the resurrection of Christ is the hinge-point of Christianity: if Christ has not been raised, then our “faith is futile” and we are still in our sins (v. 17). Anyone can claim to be God and offer the forgiveness of sins, but what makes Christ unique is that he did what no human can do: rise from the dead.
Likewise, the resurrection not only assures us of our salvation and freedom from sin and death—it gives us hope for the life to come. Paul says that “if only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.” (v. 18). Basically, if Christ has not been raised, then the hope of heaven and all the promises that go along with it are lost, and we as Christians are therefore the most miserable, self-righteous band of wretches to walk the earth, believing that we are forgiven and going to heaven when (surprisingly we find out) we aren’t.
All this is to say that the resurrection of Christ was meant to be a historical fact. Not some fancifully made up, metaphorical story to give the disciples “hope,” or a bout of wishful thinking to ease their troubled minds after seeing their Lord brutally crucified—no, it was meant to be a cold, hard fact. The reality of the resurrection was their hope; it gave the early apostles supernatural strength to carry on in the face of endless trials and persecution. It was what enabled them to stand up for their faith as they laid down their lives.
I wonder, Church, do we fix our eyes on the resurrection with enough voracity and intention? Do we take hold of the power that is found in it? Scripture tells us that the same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead is also alive in us (Rom. 8:11). Do you hear the force of that statement? Christ has given us his Spirit, not that we would be timid–but strong, speaking the truth in love with power (2 Tim. 1:7). The resurrection assures of us of our salvation, it allows us to become “new creations” (2 Cor. 5:17), it gives us the hope of heaven, it frees us from the grip of sin and death–
“O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?”
This is the power of the resurrection. This is the hope we lay claim to. Therefore sing, dear Christian, because you have the resurrection power of Christ living inside of you; be confident, oh ye of little faith, knowing your hope is not just for this life, but for the life to come; stand firm, then, child of God, and run your race with intensity and fervor. And when all is said and done, and our final resurrection takes place on the day of Christ’s return, I will see you in the kingdom.
In Christ,
-Cole
P.S. Oh, and don’t celebrate Easter for just one day; rather, celebrate Easter every day.
“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.” – C.S. Lewis
“Follow me.”
When I truly first began to study the life of Jesus as an awkward, lanky, 16 year-old teen, those two words were what captivated me. They were welcoming. They were concise. They were simple. And the one who spoke them–well, he was nothing but kind, gracious and understanding.
Yet the claims he made… they were radical. They were unique. They were exclusive. This man was clearly something else. He claimed to have divinity: the power to forgive sins. He claimed to have life: a well that never ran dry. He claimed to be God’s own Son, sent to heal the sick and set the captives free.
“Follow me.”
If what he claimed was true, then I knew that those two words now carried more weight than I first realized. In reality, those words were the epitome of his life and ministry. To follow him would mean to go wherever he went, for he is the Way. To heed his call would mean to sacrifice what I thought right, for he is the Truth. To accept his invitation would mean to realize I was dead in my sins and needed him, for he is the Life.
For the first time in my life I realized the beauty of the Gospel: the call came first. It always had. Jesus never asked me to have it all together before I answered him; he just asked. He didn’t require me to have everything on the checklist “checked” before I RSVP’d his invitation; he just invited. He chased me down, lived among the brokenness of the world, sacrificed his life to take my sin–my sin–upon his perfect shoulders, and rose from the tomb to declare his power as the Son of God.
“Follow me.”
All I had to say was yes. And I can tell you, saying “yes” to those two words has been the best decision I have ever made. The journey has been surreal. It has been difficult at times: tiring, confusing, painful, full of battles, hardships and trials that never seem to end. Yet it has been completely worth it. The joy I have experienced, the hope I hold on to, the peace I claim, the love that stirs my soul–the beauty of knowing God through the fullness and glory of Christ–these things make it worth it. Looking back, it isn’t hard to see: I would say “yes” to those two words time and time again.
What about you?
