{Prayer

I’m not sure, Lord, how to sort through these thoughts and theories. Notion upon notion makes such commotion that I cannot tell if I’ve turned to the right or the left. I’m so tangled in this world that it’s getting more difficult to see that ancient path. But I know, I have been taught, that the Way is alive, and that he will seek me and call me from amidst the rubble of a used and abused life. You are the Way. I ask you, and in asking I receive, to set me free from the confusion and take away the pain of my own negligence. Forgive me for my sins, my self-will, my ill-crafted illusion. Keep me away from the temptations that I have entertained. Keep my soul out of the enemy’s reach. Good Shepherd, hear my cry for help and do what must be done to save me.

Remembering a Commandment {Confession, Exhortation

I’d forgotten something that my Lord commanded me. I read over it many times and failed to take it as a command. It wasn’t a deliberate denial. It wasn’t an ignorant innocence. It was laziness. A branding iron will leave its mark on flesh, but not on tough stone; likewise the commandment, which had lost none of its potency, did not impress my ensnared mind.
Before sending out his twelve, Jesus “saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest’” (Mat. 9:36-38 ESV).
When this commandment was brought to my attention recently, suddenly I remembered what I was so excited for in July of 2006, when I prayed as he told me before going to college. To obey the command is to bless countless multitudes, and should the Lord send you, to take up the best adventure.
Pray for the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers.

Arms Outstretched {Testimony, Meditation

I lay on my backside with my arms stretched up to the ceiling—no, to God. I didn’t know how to escape the torment. I couldn’t run away from the temptation, because it was with me, inside me. This temptation is like a shadow, it seems, that cannot be detached by struggling with hands and feet and teeth and sweat and blood. Everyone experiences this temptation, for I know that no temptation overtook me except what is common to all humankind (1Cor. 10:13). Like my shadow, it would always be touching at least one part of my body, because I cannot keep my feet off the ground for more than a few seconds. But even shadows are melted, dissolved, destroyed utterly, in the presence of the Father of lights, in whom “there is no variation or shifting shadow” (Jam. 1:7 NASB). What? Is the devil saying that even the Great Light would cause me to cast a shadow behind me? Not if his light also shines within me! So I wait for that day with longing when “the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb” (Re. 21:23 ESV; cf. 22:5, Is. 60:20)—to be surrounded and filled with light that overcomes the uncomprehending darkness!

I couldn’t escape my shadow as I lay there. As much as I affirm Paul’s command to “flee from idolatry” and all sin (1Cor. 10:14), I was on my back with no strength in my legs, because there was nowhere to run but upward, and I had no means to get there but the strong arms of my Father, to whom I was reaching. With plain confidence Paul teaches, “With the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it” (v.13). Some “New Age” sage may prescribe a remedy for escape, if he admits to avoiding sin at all, by means of inward contemplation or confessing that the body is illusory. I, however, had to pray to the Almighty; otherwise I would drown in my own shadow. To go inward would’ve been of great benefit only if I had a mind to consult my conscience or the Holy Spirit. But when I looked inward I did not set my mind of things of the spirit but on things of the flesh, and there was only death looming at the advice of inward contemplation. To say that the body is illusory would’ve given me adequate excuse, like the Gnostics conjure up, to dive into my sin, for if the body is an illusion, then the crucifixion of Jesus Christ is nothing more than a stage show (cf. 1Pe. 2:24), and also the sins committed by the body are illusions, and my conscience ought to be free in all lawlessness. But “we must not put Christ to the test” (1Cor. 10:9). No, I had to pray and trust. “God is faithful” (v.13), and only by the mightiest hand can his people be delivered from slavery (cf. Ex. 3:18-20). My help couldn’t come from my own devices. The priest Aaron was commanded to bless the people thus: “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace” (Nu. 6:24-26). Blessing comes from the Lord, the Lord, the Lord. I cannot bless myself and keep myself, my face does not shine with glory that can heal, and the storm in my mind cannot give itself peace. The Lord must look upon me and be gracious to me if I am to live another day.

On my back, I began to speak to him in sheer desperation, and I recounted to him everything that I believed, scrambling in my heart to gain some defense against the tempter. This was my honest prayer: “I believe that you created the whole world, and formed and filled it—establishing your law and imbuing it with your glory. I believe that you created the first humans in your image. I believe that you spoke to them. I believe that they disobeyed and were corrupted because of their desire. I believe that you are holy and require holiness of your people. I believe that you delivered your people from oppression in Egypt. I believe that you gave them the written Law to bless them.

“O Lord, I am confused. There is no written commandment against my sin, and if not for my conscience crying out I would not see any trouble in my soul because of this. A while ago I thought I heard a voice telling me that this was sin, and I thought it was your voice. But it is not anywhere written. How am I to know?”

I paused for a moment, and then continued, because God in his grace made my conscience bold: “I believe that you called Abram and gave him your promise. I believe that you call your people to live by the law of faith, not the law of works. Oh! Now I see, Lord. There was nothing written for Abram. There was only your presence. He heard and responded. Abram was called to a mystery and given a promise that he could not see, but he walked all the same, and he believed in the promises. His faith was credited to him as righteousness. So all whom you have brought into the glory of your Son are called to a mystery and given a promise that can only be seen by a faithful heart.

“It’s faithful obedience to remember what you spoke to me and keep the commandment. And believing that you have spoken to me, and that you do not lie, and that you have never changed since the beginning, and that you always confirm what is written in the Scriptures,—to keep the commandment can only be credited to me as righteousness. I will obey the voice of the Spirit and consider the true testimony of the written words.”

It was an important prayer. In my temptation I was inclined only to think of God as a set of written words, a volume of moral information. The devil will always try to reduce the living God down to an inert and lifeless code—portraying what the Lord says as an algorithm instead of something “living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Heb. 4:12). The written words are not God. For how can the Maker of the world be contained in paper pages and leather binding if “heaven, even highest heaven, cannot contain him”? (2Ch. 2:6) Jesus rebuked the Jews who searched the Scriptures assuming they could obtain eternal life in them, because really the life is found in Christ himself, and the Scriptures bear witness about him (Joh. 5:39f.). Jesus says the word was not “abiding” in these Jews, who had never heard or seen God (vv.37f.). He doesn’t mean that they hadn’t memorized enough of the Old Testament writings. He means that they were so full, perhaps even full of “sacred” knowledge, that they were unable to provide lodging for the words, in the same way that the inn in the city of David did not have room for Messiah (cf. Lu. 2:7). They knew the words well enough, but they did not have spiritual understanding, which comes only by the voice of the the Spirit.

Likewise, as I was there on my back, I had been regarding the written words of God while not regarding the Spirit, who had beforehand spoken to me about this sin. I remembered that the apostle wrote, “You shall be holy, for I am holy” (1Pe. 1:16; cf. Lev. 11:44), and another, “God has not called us for impurity, but in holiness” (1Th. 4:7); however, I would not let these words abide in me, to teach me what it is to be holy before the Lord. I would not consider these as applying to the sin to which I was being tempted. “This act has nothing to do with holiness or profanity,” the devil would say. “You did not hear the Spirit say that. It was your own thought. You have not seen the glory of God,” he would continue. If he can get me to disregard the Spirit, then he can get me to disconnect the words commanding holiness from the profanity of the sin.

But when I prayed there, the Spirit gave me words anew, reminding me of Abram and the faith that comes from hearing. The Lord reached down and picked me up. The Spirit’s arms wrapped around me and banished the shadow, relieved me from the temptation. My means of escape was not an algorithm, not a ten-step plan, not inward contemplation, not denial of the world. I was rescued by the abiding word of God and the fellowship with the Spirit, who brought the written words to life in me.

God restored me that day. Praise the Lord. I became again like the disciples after the resurrection: “They believed the Scripture and the word which Jesus had spoken” (Joh. 2:22). I believe the Scripture and the Spirit’s words. So I stood and walked away from the temptation, by the Lord’s grace.

Habakkuk {Prayer, Meditation

O Lord, I read of how a prophet stands before you in Israel as one who had a complaint. He knows of your righteousness, and he believes that you, the Holy One, judge the wicked, yet he is confounded that it seems “you look idly at wrong” while forcing him to “see iniquity” (Hab. 1:3 ESV). To our imperfect human judgment, even your law seems feeble when we do not presently see the wicked punished by your enforcement (cf. v.4). And from this confused and honest prophet, the greatest complaint comes with acknowledging your holiness, your power and authority to judge, and the purity of your eyes that, it seems, “idly look at traitors” (v.12f.). I do not think him a fool to make such a complaint—or, I am a naïve man like him. You do not hold it against such a righteous man to make a complaint, and you are not hesitant to rebuke him with fatherly love, since you know that he searches for your answer and does not trust his own speculations. He is faithful and desires not to live in confusion. He wants to have all doubt exiled and his heart delivered from vexation. So he teaches how to properly seek greater knowledge of your ways:

I will take my stand at my watchpost

and station myself on the tower,

and look out to see what he will say to me,

and what I will answer concerning my complaint. (2:1)

O Lord, what stance can I take? What posture should I have? “The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak” (Mat. 26:41). By your Spirit, then, let me be as this prophet. Only show me my watchpost, so that I may fix myself obediently in the city. I will take my stand where I may find revelation from you for myself and for my people. Your revelation is good, and your promises are peace to my soul, and the gift of knowing your law is sweetness to me. You answer him, and also answer me, because I share the prophet’s complaint, and his confusion, and his honesty. And I believe that you answer those who call out to you in honesty and conviction.

The LORD is righteous in all his ways

and kind in all his works.

The LORD is near to all who call on him,

to all who call on him in truth.

He fulfills the desire of those who fear him;

he also hears their cry and saves them. (Ps. 145:17-19)

So then the God-fearing, truth-saying prophet:

And the LORD answered me:

“Write the vision;

make it plain on tablets,

so he may run who reads it. (Hab. 2:2)

You answer him promptly, Lord, and so you answer me. But I must not treat you as common, nor consider your audience lightly, nor receive your words with indifference. Keep me from self-righteousness. Keep me from expecting your service. Keep me from approaching your throne or your Scriptures with pride. Keep me, a mere watchman, from claiming more authority in the city than what has been given. Your righteous servants consider themselves privileged only by your grace, not entitled, when they approach you. The prophet’s complaint is not against your promises but in desperate thirst for them. The prophet cries out to you, not because he is faithless, not in contempt, but because he knows you to be faithful and can trust none but you. You give him strength to bear your answer, and your instruction is for even the simplest mind. Let me follow the prophet’s example in listening.

You tell him, as you tell others, in response to his complaint, that humankind will reap the proper yield of what is sown (vv.6-10; cf. Job 4:8, Ho. 8:7, 10:12-14, Ga. 6:8). And no one can hide from his own works, nor cover his evil with fine ornaments, “for the stone will cry out from the wall” (v.11), and you will hear this cry as you heard the blood of Abel (Ge. 4:10). So even though you, O Rock, seem to be idle and silent in the presence of such wickedness, the vision avers “righteousness and justice are the foundation of your throne” (Ps. 89:14, 97:2f.). Your answer is a reiteration of the law he already knows. What the earlier prophets wrote confirms this prophet’s words, for

your righteousness is righteous forever,

and your law is true. (Ps. 119:142)

When you plainly give the judgment that concurs with the written Law, which condemns the wicked, then the prophet and I are encouraged. You give us great hope to someday see the earth being filled with the knowledge of your glory (Hab. 2:14). This post I have, as a watchman, is a charge to wait—for your answer to come with the singing birds, for your sun to dawn, for the execution of your word, for the revelation of your glory. Though I yet see with my eyes that the wicked are triumphant, now I see in your light that you will bring “utter shame” upon their glory (v.16). At present, the fullness of the judgment has not come,

for still the vision awaits its appointed time;

it hastens to the end—it will not lie.

If it seems slow, wait for it;

it will surely come; it will not delay. (v.3)

So the prophet rejoices in what you say, and he fears you (3:1). The vision you give him is terrible, and your wrath is proclaimed. His anxiety is assuaged, and he receives your gentle rebuke as most precious knowledge, for “a rebuke goes deeper into a man of understanding than a hundred blows into a fool” (Pr. 17:10). He finds an audience with you, the Almighty, who “looked and shook the nations” (Hab. 3:6), and trembles at his new meditation on your holiness (v.16). When he raises his complaint he knows you to be just and pure, but after your answer he has greater fear, greater reverence, and confirmation of your law. His faith is increased because he obeys your commandment to wait for the vision, saying, “I will quietly wait” (ibid.). The vision tarries, but he will no longer let his heart be vexed by the Lord’s absent judgment, because you have set his feet upon a rock and confirmed your law to him. So he will rejoice in you, God of salvation (v.18).

The prophet fears you, seeks you, and hopes in you. The prophet knows your purity, is outraged at humankind’s injustice, and thirsts for greater knowledge of your law, which bears witness to the righteousness that comes from faith (cf. Ro. 3:21f.). When he complains, you answer. When you answer, he listens, trembling, and obeys, and so increases in the knowledge of your glory. O Father, thank you for the example of this prophet, and let his revelation be mine also. I will stand at my watchpost in the city. I will take my place under the shadow of your wings, in the presence of your Spirit, covered by the authority and command of your Son.

Amen.