Randy Alcorn's Blog, page 52

Expect Great Things of God, and Leave the Results to Him

In his article “Beware the Scarcity Gospel,” Andy Jones writes,

Is it possible that some of us, having rightly rejected the prosperity gospel, have subtly succumbed to another insidious belief? I call it the scarcity gospel—the assumption that we should expect God to do little through our churches or in our lifetime.

We don’t expect to see people come to faith in surprising numbers through our churches. We don’t expect to see a surprising work of God’s Spirit sweep through our churches and strengthen the faith of congregants. We don’t expect to see the gospel advance in places and among people where the church is underrepresented. We expect little. And that may be what we actually experience during our lifetime (James 4:2b).

We aren’t promised the church will advance or progress exponentially. Yet we should expect God to do more than we can ask or think (Eph. 3:20), while entrusting him with the final result.

The term “scarcity gospel,” though catchy, could be mistaken as the opposite of the prosperity gospel (the teaching that God will bless with material abundance and good health those who obey Him and lay claim to His promises). It really isn’t, as the truth is not halfway between the two. Both false perspectives betray the same false Christ-absent focus, just in a different way.

Instead of blind optimism, low expectations of God reveal a blind pessimism about the power of God’s work. We sometimes raise our expectations to insist upon—even demand—complete divine healing or the perfect mate or job or church or children. And other times, we lower our expectations closer to those of atheists than of believers. We forget that He is able “to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us” (Ephesians 3:20).

We can’t raise the bar of faith too high as long as the object of our faith is God, who always knows better than we do. He sometimes does His greatest work when He doesn’t answer our prayers the way we would like them answered, and instead shapes our character, Christlikeness, and faith, and tenderizes our hearts toward hurting believers and unbelievers. If we have eyes to see, we will realize this miracle is far greater than the miracles we sometime want to see but don’t.

Corrie Ten Boom wrote, “The wonderful thing about praying is that you leave a world of not being able to do something, and enter God’s realm where everything is possible. He specializes in the impossible. Nothing is too great for His almighty power. Nothing is too small for His love.”

We should see God at work both in the prayers He answers affirmatively and in the prayers He answers differently than we asked. He works behind the scenes, and one day, even if not in this life, we will see His hidden purposes for our suffering. “Who is like you, O Yahweh, among the gods? Who is like you, majestic in holiness, awesome in glorious deeds, doing wonders?” (Exodus 15:11).

Last New Year’s Eve, we planned to do what we have done nearly every year: spend the evening with two other couples, some of our dearest friends. We usually talk about our families, our church, God’s Word, and theological questions, and we watch football and comedy routines and tell stories—sometimes the same stories. Occasionally details change and those stories get funnier. Above all, we talk about Jesus. We laugh and cry together, as close friends do.

My wife, Nanci, had expected to feel up to going but couldn’t. We were all disappointed, but we believed God was at work. We chose to trust in His sovereign love and purposes, knowing He will not fail us or forsake us. We refused to lay claim to the prosperity gospel or wallow in low expectations. By God’s grace, we fixed our eyes on Jesus and made Him the object of our faith.

Then the next day, New Year’s, one of those friends, Michele, went for a walk after dark. She collapsed and died on a sidewalk two blocks from their house. Her body was found by a neighbor.

Two and a half months later, Nanci went to be with Jesus.

I shared at Michele’s memorial service that we should not deny death’s reality or minimize our sorrow and grief and suffering and shock. But we also must not minimize the love, power, sovereign wisdom, and promises of the God who is infinitely greater than death and will one day swallow up death forever (Isaiah 25:8). Death will not have the last word. Life will. Suffering will not have the last word. Happiness will. Sin will not have the last word. Righteousness will. Satan will not have the last word. God will.

If the object of our faith is a genie God who grants us our wishes, or a handcuffed or impoverished God who no longer does the miraculous, then our faith is not in the true God revealed in Scripture. The solution to both blind optimism and blind pessimism is the same: to learn to see God at work wherever we suppose He isn’t—such as in the events of the last two years.

In many ways, believers have largely failed the test of our recent adversity, including politics and COVID, but may we not resign ourselves to ongoing failure. Let us instead call upon the infinite power of God to transform us into the humble, loving, unified servants Jesus commanded and expected us to be in John 13 and 17 and countless other passages. Our high calling of love and unity is not impossible: “For nothing will be impossible with God” (Luke 1:37).

We should raise the bar of trust in our omnipotent miracle-working God, and lower the bar of trust in what we think all the answers to our prayers should look like. Missionary William Carey set an excellent example: “Expect great things from God. Attempt great things for God.” All the while, may we realize that God is God and leave the results to Him. Let’s thank Him for empowering us to be who He has called us to be: people of grace, truth, faith, and hope, with eyes open to the power, presence, and sovereign love of our King.

“Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely, and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it” (1 Thessalonians 5:23-24, emphasis added).

Photo by Josh Hild on Unsplash

A Good Marriage Requires Work

I keep thanking God for Nanci’s partnership and companionship in the gospel. I first heard the gospel from Nanci, and we discussed messages I was hearing at church and youth group for eight months before I came to Christ as a sophomore in high school. Later, we went through Bible college together and were in most of each other’s classes. We discussed lectures and did our homework together.

As the years went by, we discussed theology on the plane and in the car and in our living room. We would watch Bible Project videos together and listen to sermons online and talk about them.

Our marriage was far from perfect, because she was (and I still am!) imperfect. Being a man, I have a stupid gene. And no one saw it at work more than my wife. We said to each other honestly, “We are different enough that if we didn’t have the Lord we might have divorced for irreconcilable differences.” But God reconciled our differences and made each of us better. And in time the differences weren’t irritating; they became endearing.

We learned to like what the other liked. We both loved dogs and good movies and sports. From 1977 to 1990, when I was a pastor, we had staff meetings on Monday afternoons. I used to say to the other pastors, “Guys, we all need to love our wives sacrificially. So tonight, let’s do whatever our wives want to do. You can take your wife to a French restaurant and the ballet, but my wife wants me home for Monday night football and pizza. It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it.”

Still, enjoying marriage didn’t come easily. It took a lot of hard work.  But we did the work, by God’s grace. Early on, we spent too much time trying to change each other. When we stopped, our marriage got better and better. We learned to embrace our differences and enjoy them instead of resisting and resenting them. (Good luck trying to do that without the grace and power of God!)

We loved each other from the beginning, but we had to learn what sacrificial love really means. And by God’s grace, we did. It wasn’t automatic. It not only took work, it took a lot of repentance and forgiveness and humbling ourselves. And it happened—we became true soulmates.

And it was more than worth every sacrifice.

Photo by Jonathan Borba on Unsplash

What Is Over-Realized Eschatology?

Note from Randy: One of our staff sent me this article written by a pastor, and I thought it was very good. (Yes, he does mention my Heaven book—but that’s not why we asked his permission to share what he wrote!) Over the years I’ve often used the term “over-realized eschatology,” but I don’t usually take the time to explain it, and this article does that well.

What Is Over-Realized Eschatology?

By Nick Cady

Oftentimes the word “eschatology” is thought of only in terms of the timeline of Jesus’ return. This is one aspect, but certainly not the full meaning of what eschatology is. “Eschatology” means the study of final or ultimate things. It comes from the word “eschaton,” which means “final event” or “culmination.”

The promise of the gospel is that because of what Jesus accomplished in his life, death and resurrection, ultimately, one day, God will wipe away every tear and sickness and death and all of the effects of the curse of sin will be eradicated forever (cf. Revelation 21:1-4 , among others), and that there will be a new heavens and new Earth, a renewed and restored and redeemed creation in which all things are the way that God designed them to be apart from the curse of sin and death. That is the “eschatological (final/ultimate) hope” of the Bible for those who are “in Christ.”

All of Christianity Is Eschatological

In this sense, all of Christianity is eschatological, in that it hopes in and looks to a final culmination in which certain things will take place. Conversely, any form of “Christianity” that doesn’t hold to this eschatological hope is arguably no longer true Christianity.

I recently read Randy Alcorn’s book, Heaven. I picked it up expecting it to be a tedious read full of sentimentality, but I was pleasantly surprised. Instead, it presents a systematic theology of heaven, which reveals that this eschatological hope is much more material and physical than many Christians commonly think. If you haven’t read the book, I recommend you check it out.

How we understand this eschatological hope and our place in relation to it today will inevitably shape our thinking and practice as Christians.

A Biblical Picture: Dawn

A picture the Bible uses to describe the place where we are at in history is: Dawn (2 Peter 1:19). Dawn is that in-between time after the first light of morning has broken the darkness of night—but before the sun has crested the horizon and driven out night’s darkness completely. During the dawn, light and dark are both present at the same time, yet neither are present in full force; the darkness is not as dark as it once was, and neither is the light as bright as it will be. The promise of dawn is that the shift from night to day will come; it has begun and will not regress. Its full fruition is only a matter of time. Peter refers to Jesus as the “morning star,” i.e. the signifier of the dawn of a new day.

Another picture the Bible uses to help us understand the world and our place in it, in relation to the eschaton, is Jesus’ Parable of the Wheat and the Weeds, in which Jesus describes the world as a field in which God planted good seed, but an enemy came in and planted bad seed. The farmer then makes the surprising decision to allow the wheat and the weeds to grow together until the harvest, at which time they will be separated—the wheat brought into the storehouse and the weeds burned. This is a picture of the world we live in, where good and evil are both present, and God is fully committed to eradicating evil, but the day to do so has not yet come, thus these two “kingdoms” currently exist in the world at the same time, and yet the eschatological promise is that the kingdom of darkness and evil will be eradicated at the eschaton.

Over-Realized Eschatology and the Prosperity Gospel

An “over-realized eschatology” is when someone expects that the eschatological hope of Christianity is already here and now. They might say, Well, if Jesus has come and the Kingdom has come, then there should no longer be evil in the world, everyone should be healed of sickness, there should be no poverty or suffering, and everything should be the way that God designed it to be NOW, and if you believe well enough, or have enough faith, you will experience it.

This leads to what is sometimes called a “prosperity gospel,” which is best understood as an over-realized eschatology which expects something which will ultimately happen for those who are in Christ to happen right now. One of the problems with it is that it places an incredible burden on people by telling them, “If you’re not healthy and wealthy, it must be because you are doing it wrong.” It fails to take into account the nature of the world and our time and place in God’s plan of redemption, not to mention the sovereignty of God.

Conversely, there is such a thing as an under-realized eschatology. This is one which does not recognize that with the coming of Jesus into the world, the Kingdom of God has come to this world, even if not yet in fullness.

Both over- and under-realized eschatology fail to take hold of the “already, but not yet” nature of our unique place in time: after Jesus’ death and resurrection and before the eschaton—which is illustrated by the picture of dawn and the Parable of the Wheat and the Weeds.

A Balanced, Biblical View of Eschatology Leads to Healthy Christian Living

This understanding helps us make sense of the world we live in today. We grapple with the reality of sin, death and sickness without laying unnecessary burdens upon people that their illnesses and difficulties must be the result of their own lack of faith. All the while, we hold onto the glorious eschatological hope of the gospel which empowers us to endure in the face of whatever hardships come our way.

Here is a good explanation of this principle from John Piper. The whole video is good, but the last part addresses this specifically:

This article originally appeared on the author’s blog , and is used with permission.

Photo by Simon Maage on Unsplash

Bert and Colleen Elliot: Two “Average” Followers of Jesus Who Left an Example of Faithfulness

At my home church in January 2006—the fiftieth anniversary of the death of five missionaries in Ecuador—I interviewed Steve Saint, son of martyr Nate Saint, and Mincaye, one of the tribal warriors who killed the missionaries and later came to faith in Christ.

Afterward, my wife, Nanci, and I, along with our friends Stu and Linda Weber, joined Steve McCully, son of martyr Ed McCully, and Bert and Colleen and other Elliot family members, including Gilbert and Susan Gleason, for dinner at Jim and Bert’s childhood home in Portland, Oregon. We spent an unforgettable afternoon with members of three of the five martyred missionaries’ families.

What I most enjoyed that day was time spent talking alone with Bert Elliot. When I asked him about their ministry in Peru, Bert’s eyes lit up as he said, “I can’t wait to get back from furlough!” At that time, he and Colleen were in their eighties and nearing their sixtieth year as missionaries, with no intention of retiring. They were vibrant—still joyfully excited about reaching people for Christ.

Prior to that Sunday I knew a great deal about Jim Elliot and Nate Saint, and a little about the three other missionary martyrs. I knew absolutely nothing about Bert and Colleen. Though aware their home was less than two miles from where my wife grew up in Portland, we didn’t even realize that Jim had a brother. We had no clue that in the 1940s Bert and Colleen attended the same college that Nanci and I had attended in the seventies, then known as Multnomah School of the Bible.

After returning home that night, I searched online and found only one article with much information about Bert and Colleen. It said they’d planted over 158 churches in Peru. (Of course, Bert didn’t tell me that.) They served Christ faithfully, almost completely under the radar of the church at large.

I will never forget what Bert said about Jim that day in his childhood home. Tears formed in his eyes as he spoke. “Jim and I both served Christ, but differently.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Jim was a great meteor, streaking through the sky.”

Bert stopped there. He didn’t go on to describe himself, but here is what came to my mind: Unlike his brother Jim—the shooting star everyone learned about in LIFE magazine and numerous books—Bert was a fifth-magnitude star, a mere pinpoint of light, rising night after night, faithfully crossing the same path in the sky, to God’s glory. A star so faint that no one knew its name or pointed it out. Millions have quoted his younger brother, Jim, who went to Ecuador three years after Bert went to Peru. But I’ve never heard a sermon or read a book quoting from Bert Elliot. Not until Gilbert Gleason, nephew to the Elliots by marriage, wrote Love So Amazing.

Gilbert writes, “Bert and Colleen serve as the right kind of examples for ‘average’ followers of Jesus, proving that, for most of us, substantial, supernatural impact is achieved through simple daily faithfulness, listening to Jesus and loving people in His name.”

I’m struck by Gilbert’s description of Bert and Colleen being “average.” Of the well-known modern martyrs, Jim Elliot has become—and in some ways, in real life truly was—an almost mythical character. I’ve read what he said and did, and, while he’s had great impact on my life, at times he seems far beyond me and other mortals. I’m tempted to think of Jim as a superhero to admire, rather than an example to follow.

Bert was different. He wasn’t like the sprinter who wins the Olympic gold medal. He was like the clerk or custodian who jogs a nine-minute mile three miles a day and, over his lifetime, runs much farther than the pro who retires at thirty. Bert and Colleen just kept serving, faithfully and joyfully, for sixty-two years. They modeled true humility and sacrificial love for God and others.

Missionary work sometimes culminates in unforgettable martyrdom. More often it involves what Eugene Peterson called “a long obedience in the same direction”—years spent dying daily to self and living moment-after-moment for Jesus. Certainly, I believe Jim Elliot’s reward is considerable, but it wouldn’t surprise me to discover that Bert and Colleen’s is greater still.

After visiting Bert and Colleen in Peru, Lars Gren, Elisabeth Elliot’s husband, wrote, “They are available for any who call or ring the doorbell, whether expected or unexpected. Along with open doors, there are the Bible studies, their involvement in the Christian School . . . Plus an exceptional drug program leading addicts into a new life based on Scripture . . . All this after fifty-six years on the field with no thought of the rocking chair or hanging out a shingle saying, ‘Busy. Please call again.’ What a life of service.”

Bert and Colleen may not have made much difference on Google and Twitter, but God was their Audience of One. He says a book of remembrance is written for his faithful servants (Malachi 3:16), and Jesus promised, “If anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward” (Matthew 10:42, NIV).

Bert and Colleen’s life reminds me of the man Jesus described in a parable: “The Kingdom of Heaven is like a treasure that a man discovered hidden in a field. In his excitement, he hid it again and sold everything he owned to get enough money to buy the field” (Matthew 13:44, NLT).

When we read he “sold everything he owned” to obtain the treasure, we might feel sorry for him, because his sacrifice was great. But he didn’t feel sorry for himself; on the contrary, he couldn’t believe how fortunate he was! (The point, of course, is not the value of temporary treasure, but the eternal treasure it represents.)

Though Bert and Colleen served in Peru over 75 percent of their lives, they would say the sacrifice was nothing compared to what they gained, even in this life! And gauged by their forever lives, the payoff will be unimaginable and eternal! Because their sacrifices were eclipsed by joy, to them they seemed small.

In 2012, a few days after Bert died, I wrote an article about him that, in God’s providence, was reprinted by many, including Focus on the Family. I’m delighted to say you can now find far more about Bert and Colleen than I was able to when I first tried. Certainly Love So Amazing provides a great wealth of information unavailable until now.

It was a great honor to be asked to speak at Bert’s memorial service, but I had to decline because of a prior commitment I couldn’t cancel. I was amazed to learn that Colleen died the day before Bert’s service! It became a memorial for both of them. I wished I could have been there. But there’s something far better than a wish, and that’s the promise of Jesus: I will see Bert and Colleen again—and will partake in a joyful reunion with countless Christ followers I’ve known and far more I haven’t met but will. It is not wishful thinking that one day all of us who know Jesus will walk the New Earth together. It is a certainty bought, paid for, and written in Jesus’ blood.

If you love and follow Jesus as the Elliots did, you won’t have to regret that you didn’t know Bert and Colleen. Because one day you will. In countless magnificent dinners and other celebrations, full of laughter and delight, we will meet and hear the stories of thousands of people from those 150-plus churches God raised up through His faithful, humble, and happy servants, Bert and Colleen Elliot. And that will be a tiny sampling of the adventures that await us, by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Love So Amazing: The Missionary Biography of Bert and Colleen Elliot is available on Amazon in print and on Kindle.

Living as People of the Truth in a Post-Truth World

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From Randy: Today’s blog is by Sara Barratt, from her book Stand Up, Stand Strong, which was recently released.

Stand Up, Stand Strong is an extraordinary book. Sara clearly understands the appealing but deceptive cultural values that confuse and derail countless believers, who, apart from learning to think critically, will likely abandon their faith. Sara is immersed in a biblical worldview that permeates everything she says. She writes with rare wisdom and insight. Often, I read books that don’t quite live up to what they could have been. This one actually does. I highly recommend it for young people everywhere. Older believers could benefit just as much—this is a terrific book for families, groups and churches to discuss together!

Hope you enjoy these reflections from Sara on the subject of truth.

In 2016, the Oxford Dictionary named post-truth their word of the year.

According to their definition, post-truth is “relating to or denoting circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief.”

A post-truth environment exists when people are directed by subjective feelings rather than objective facts. A post-truth world is not one in which truth has ceased to exist, but one in which truth has ceased to matter. Truth becomes personal, all “truths” (aka opinions) are equally valid, and feelings have the upper hand. “What’s true for you doesn’t have to be true for me” is the mantra of the post-truth age.

We’re all susceptible to this. Just a glance around our culture and within our own hearts makes that abundantly clear. We innately stick with beliefs and ideas that make us feel good. While post-truth mindsets are becoming more evident culture-wide, these seeds of relativistic thinking grow in each of our hearts.

This clash with truth occurs on a daily basis in ways big and small. Have you ever read a news story only to find out later it was slanted to the writer’s agenda and didn’t tell the full story? Or have you ever seen someone believe something (or held a belief yourself) just because it was posted on social media when a few moments of research would have quickly debunked the idea? Or had a conversation and listened to someone stubbornly hold to their perspective even if concrete facts supported another view? Each of these examples point to a post-truth mindset.

In short, we want truth when it conforms to our own point of view and affirms what we already believe. Facts are willingly sacrificed to project an agenda or affirm one’s own bias.

Post-truth thinking is able to thrive because people have become confused on what truth even means. What is truth, anyway? Is it possible to know truth? How can you be certain of what’s true?

The answer to these questions comes when we understand the various forms of truth that exist. One form is subjective truth. “Country music is the best” is an example of subjective truth. That statement is 100 percent true in my opinion because I love country music, but the same statement is 100 percent false for someone who can’t stand John Denver or Carrie Underwood. The statement is only true for people who enjoy country music—it’s a subjective truth claim because it deals with preference and personal taste. In cases of subjective, personal inclinations, “True for you, but not for me” is, well, true.

On the other hand, there is objective truth. “Grass is green,” “George Washington was the first president of the United States,” and “Two plus two equals four” are all statements of objective truth. You can’t argue with them and you can’t disagree with them. They’re simply statements of reality. In cases of objective actuality, “True for you, but not for me” is simply ludicrous.

Secular culture doesn’t deny the existence of objective truth (you’ll never find a politician arguing that grass really isn’t green . . . I hope). But it does argue over what does and does not equal objective truth. Matters of religion, morality, and identity have all moved from the “objective” category into the “subjective.” “Jesus is the Son of God,” “Gender is fixed, not fluid,” and “Marriage is meant to be between a man and a woman” are now considered statements more reflective of personal opinion than objective reality. But that all depends on who gets to determine objective reality.

According to culture, we are the ones who get to decide based on our preferences. According to God, He is the only One who has the authority to make that distinction. Moral absolutes do exist if a moral authority also exists. But because even the existence of God has become a subjective truth, everything else in our lives and society that really matters has also been relegated to the realm of the subjective. And post-truth is born the moment the objective is placed in the position of the subjective.

Post-truth thinking is deadly. If we don’t know the truth, how will we know how to live? How will we define right and wrong? For Christians seeking the absolute truth of God, post-truth thinking is incredibly serious.

Every generation since Adam and Eve has experienced forms of post-truth thinking, as humanity has attempted to rewrite the script of truth with their own opinions. As Proverbs says, “All the ways of a man are pure in his own eyes, but the LORD weighs the spirits” (16:2). We all want our ways to be right. But our ways are human and fallible. God’s are not. God’s truth is founded upon reality as much as “two plus two equals four.” In fact, more so. Without God’s truth, no other truth would exist, and we’d be floundering in a world where everything is subjective. God gave us the gift of truth so we could live with clarity, wisdom, and order. But to do so, we have to accept His standards above our own.

Is it any wonder there’s an attack on truth in our society when the enemy of our souls is the father of lies? Satan “does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaks a lie, he speaks from his own resources, for he is a liar and the father of it” (John 8:44). Why wouldn’t Satan target truth? Getting people to doubt truth and believe lies causes them to speak his native language.

God, however, is the opposite of post-truth. Every word God says is true. Every aspect of God is true. There are no hidden theories or shady agendas when it comes to God. Truth matters to God. That’s why truth should matter to us.

As Jesus Himself said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.” (John 14:6)  Truth is not a personal preference. Truth is a person, and that person is Christ.

Sara Barratt is a 22-year-old author, speaker, and Editor-in-Chief of TheRebelution.com. She's the author of Love Riot and Stand Up, Stand Strong: A Call to Bold Faith in a Confused Culture. Her passion is challenging teens to live sold-out and set-apart for Jesus.  Connect with her on her website sarabarratt.com and on Facebook and Instagram.

Photo by Michael Carruth on Unsplash

We Would Do Well to Dig Deep into God

Note from Randy: Here’s another precious insight from Nanci’s journal. One of the verses she shares, Jeremiah 17:8—the image of us being a tree with roots deeply planted in Jesus—is a favorite of ours.

Dig. Dig down deep into God’s person, His character, His works, His promises. Plant yourself by streams of water. Dig your roots deep into the stream.

Do this in order to know God. Do this as your only source of perspective, of understanding, of strength, of patience, of forbearance, of joy in all that God has as His plan for you.

The more you do it in advance of suffering, the more you have of God’s provision deep in your soul (water) to thrive.

Suffering is a mercy sent by God to cause us to dig deeper into Him. The great difficulty lies when we face suffering “on an empty tank.” Our leaves wither. Our fear comes. We become anxious. We cease to bear fruit.

“But blessed [happy] is the one who trusts in the Yahweh, whose confidence is in him. They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit” (Jeremiah 17:7-8).

“Blessed [happy] is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers, but whose delight is in the law of the Yahweh, and who meditates on his law day and night. That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither—whatever they do prospers” (Psalm 1:1-3).

When our roots reach deep into the knowledge of God, when suffering comes, our fruit is yielded in its season, all that we do prospers, and our leaves remain green.

And not because we are somehow working up strength from within ourselves; but because the pipeline is already in place. God is the only source of survival and growth—spiritually—in our suffering.

And we would do well to dig deep. The deeper we plumb God, the more resources we have.

Photo by Pixabay

He Will Turn Our Grief into Joy

God doesn’t only promise to replace our grief with joy, but to turn it into joy. Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy” (John 16:20–22).

Jesus could have said, “Your grief will end, and joy will begin,” or, “Joy will replace your grief.” But these would separate the grief from the joy. Christ’s words connect them: your sorrow will turn into joy (verse 20, ESV). It could be translated “your grief will become joy.” The Message puts it, “You’ll be sad, very sad, but your sadness will develop into gladness.” (Similarly, sorrow turns into joy in Esther 9:22, wailing turns into dancing in Psalm 30:11, and mourning turns into gladness in Jeremiah 3 1:13.)

A woman giving birth suffers in a way directly connected to her impending joy. The child comes through suffering, and therefore the joy of having the child flows out of suffering. God transforms suffering into joy. Joy both eclipses and redeems the suffering.

Moffatt translates Romans 8:22, “The entire creation sighs and throbs in pain.” There’s a radical difference between death pangs, which anticipate an ending and look backward, and birth pangs, which anticipate a beginning and look forward. The old, fallen, cursed Earth, convulsing and groaning in the final pains of childbearing, will birth a New Earth. Earth will not merely survive, it will live forever, in ever-increasing wonder and glory—as will we, its caretakers, redeemed and birthed through the pains of this present time.

In Tolkien’s Return of the King, Aragorn says, “Dawn is ever the hope of men.” King David wrote, “Weeping may last for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5, NASB).

The night may seem long, but the truth is this: once it comes, the morning will never end.

Neither will the joy.  

For more related to the subject of suffering, see Randy’s book  If God Is Good , as well as the devotional  90 Days of God’s Goodness  and book  The Goodness of God . 

Photo by Iswanto Arif on Unsplash

Nanci’s Death Isn’t the End of Our Relationship, Only a Temporary Interruption

I’ve been reflecting on the changes in our home with Nanci gone. The house is so quiet without the sound of her laughter. There is a profound sense of absence.

Our double doodle Gracie clings to me and is by my side day and night. I think she misses Nanci as much as I do. We are grieving together. Someone said to me that it must be tough to come home to an empty house. But I don’t. I come home to Gracie, and she reminds me constantly of Nanci. (Trust me, Nanci wouldn’t be offended by that!)

I’m struck by my loss of a sense of time. Time is fluid. Two weeks after Nanci died, it seemed like it happened yesterday. Yet in another sense, it seemed long ago. Even before she died, I had to look at my watch, not to see what time it was, but what day it was, and occasionally what month.

Reminders of her absence are everywhere: the mail she sorted through, the bills she paid, the giving checks she wrote on our behalf, the things in our freezer and cupboards, the groceries she bought. On April 3, I sent my daughter Karina a birthday greeting, like I always do. And it suddenly occurred to me that Nanci always sends the presents! So I thanked God for Amazon and emailed Karina a gift card.

There were movies we were waiting to watch together when they came out. Now I can watch them, but I’m aware how much more fun it would have been to watch them with her. I hear about the next season of a show we enjoyed, and my instinctive reaction is to tell Nanci so we can watch it together.

I’m learning all the things Nanci did over the years that I didn’t see or think about—like the clothes that were always magically in my drawers and hanging in the closet. I started learning to do the wash in Nanci’s final year, but she had to tell me what to do, and how much detergent and fabric softer to use. Now she isn’t here to remind me, so when I didn’t have something to wear, I realized it was time to wash clothes. Not long ago I was looking at a bottle that only said “All” but nowhere said detergent. Apparently, I was the only person in the world who didn’t know it was laundry detergent. (I had to call my daughter Angela for help!)

It’s true that I haven’t lost Nanci because I know where she is. I’m not concerned about her safety or well-being because she is safely home, and better off than she ever was in this world under the Curse. But I miss her so much. I frequently have the instinct to “tell Nanci.” Yet I am so aware of where she is. I often ask Jesus to tell her about her grandsons’ tennis and track accomplishments, and I have no doubt He does, as I can’t think of a single reason He wouldn’t.

We wanted to grow old together. If you’d told us when we got married at 21 that we would live to be 68, we would have said, we DID grow old together! But when you’re 68, it’s like the new 48. Nanci and I were married in 1975, but we were best friends from the day we met as freshmen in high school, December 7, 1968. She was my closest friend for 53 and a half years. That is a privilege and a treasure. I will not regret the years we might have had but be profoundly grateful for the years we did have—and not just the quantity, but the quality. 

Her homegoing has left a great hole in my life. But isn’t that what I would want? Healthy sorrow recognizes the size of the loss. The only way for the sorrow to be less would be for the loss to be less. Would I choose to have less pain because she meant less to me? Of course not. Sorrow can be great even while we recognize it to be temporary. Nanci’s death wasn’t the end of our relationship. It was only an interruption—to be followed by the Great Reunion.

We Are Certain in Our Uncertainty

The following paragraphs from Oswald Chamber’s classic, My Utmost for His Highest, really connect with Nanci’s four years of yielding to God about all the things she was constantly uncertain about. While she never knew if the day’s diagnosis would change tomorrow, or if the cancer would spread or go into remission, or how long she’d have the strength to handle everyday situations, still she would say, “I am certain of Him, so I will be content with all those things I’m uncertain of.”

I miss Nanci terribly, but the Lord is with her and is with me, and that closes the gap between us considerably. 

“It doth not yet appear what we shall be.” 1 John 3:2

Naturally, we are inclined to be so mathematical and calculating that we look upon uncertainty as a bad thing. We imagine that we have to reach some end, but that is not the nature of spiritual life. The nature of spiritual life is that we are certain in our uncertainty, consequently we do not make our nests anywhere. Common sense says—“Well, supposing I were in that condition….” We cannot suppose ourselves in any condition we have never been in.

Certainty is the mark of the common-sense life; gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, we do not know what a day may bring forth. This is generally said with a sigh of sadness; it should be rather an expression of breathless expectation. We are uncertain of the next step, but we are certain of God. Immediately we abandon to God and do the duty that lies nearest, He packs our life with surprises all the time. When we become advocates of a creed, something dies; we do not believe God, we only believe our belief about Him. Jesus said, “Except ye…become as little children.” Spiritual life is the life of a child. We are not uncertain of God, but uncertain of what He is going to do next. If we are only certain in our beliefs, we get dignified and severe and have the ban of finality about our views; but when we are rightly related to God, life is full of spontaneous, joyful uncertainty and expectancy.

“Believe also in Me,” said Jesus, not—“Believe certain things about Me.” Leave the whole thing to Him, it is gloriously uncertain how He will come in, but He will come. Remain loyal to Him.

Photo by Emmanuel Phaeton on Unsplash

We May Not Long for Death, But We Long for Heaven

Isaiah 25:8 says, “He will swallow up death forever! The Sovereign LORD will wipe away all tears… The LORD has spoken!” (NLT). God could have said death will cease or come to an end. Or fade away. But no, like a great lion, God is stalking Death as His prey. When the moment is right, He will attack, take death by the throat, break its neck, and consume it. Death will not die of natural causes. God will kill it once and for all. The work is already done. His death and resurrection will ultimately overcome. Yet death is still with us. Death is already defeated, but not yet—this is the “already and not yet” paradox.

When Jesus annihilates death, it shall be no more. We will not fear it, and it will have no hold on us. Don’t you long for that day?

Below are some quotes on death and longing for Heaven, our eternal home, that I cite in Eternal Perspectives.

I may not long for death, but I surely long for heaven.  —Joseph Bayly, A Voice in the Wilderness

It ought to be the business of every day to prepare for our last day. —Matthew Henry

Let us greet the day which assigns each of us to his own home, which snatches us from this place and sets us free from the snares of the world, and restores us to paradise and the kingdom. Anyone who has been in foreign lands longs to return to his own native land. . . . We regard paradise as our native land. —Cyprian, Mortality

To come to Thee is to come home from exile, to come to land out of the raging storm, to come to rest after long labour, to come to the goal of my desires and the summit of my wishes. —Charles Spurgeon, Morning and Evening

A man on his deathbed turned to his physician and mumbled, “What is Heaven like, Doctor?” How could the physician describe Heaven in such brief moments? As his mind searched for an answer for his friend, the doctor heard his dog scratching at the door. “Can you hear my dog scratching at your door?” inquired the physician. The sick man assured him that he could. “Well,” the doctor said, “Heaven must be like that. My dog does not know what is in this room. He only knows he wants to be with me. So it is with Heaven! Our Master is there. That is all we need to know!”  —James Jeremiah, The Place Called Heaven

Christian, meditate much on heaven, it will help thee to press on, and to forget the toil of the way. This vale of tears is but the pathway to the better country: this world of woe is but the stepping-stone to a world of bliss. And, after death, what cometh? What wonder-world will open upon our astonished sight?  —Charles Spurgeon, Morning and Evening

Most people, if they had really learned to look into their own hearts, would know that they do want, and want acutely, something that cannot be had in this world. There are all sorts of things in this world that offer to give it to you, but they never quite keep their promise. …There was something we grasped at, in that first moment of longing, which just fades away in the reality. —C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Can you hear the sighing in the wind? Can you feel the heavy silence in the mountains? Can you sense the restless longing in the sea? Can you see it in the woeful eyes of an animal? Something’s coming . . . something better.  —Joni Eareckson Tada, Heaven: Your Real Home

All of us are homesick for Eden.
We yearn to return to a land we’ve never known.
Deep is the need to go back to the garden,
A burning so strong, for a place we belong,
A place that we know is home. —Paul Smith, quoted in Homesick for Eden

O Lord,
I live as a fish in a vessel of water,
      only enough to keep me alive,
      but in heaven I shall swim in the ocean.
Here I have a little air in me to keep me breathing,
      but there I shall have sweet and fresh gales;
Here I have a beam of sun to lighten my darkness,
      a warm ray to keep me from freezing;
      yonder I shall live in light and warmth for ever
Quicken my hunger and thirst after the realm above.

—The Valley of Vision: A Collection of Puritan Prayers

One of the most disconcerting experiences which can come our way is to make a long journey, perhaps even to the other side of the world, and to discover on arrival that we have not been expected. The hotel reservation has not been made, or, even more devastating, the friendly home is all locked up and the warm welcome we have anticipated over the miles is not awaiting us, due to a mix-up of dates or the loss of a letter or e-mail. Heaven, however, is guaranteed not to disappoint…We are expected. —Bruce Milne, The Message of Heaven & Hell

The man who is about to sail for Australia or New Zealand as a settler, is naturally anxious to know something about his future home, its climate, its employments, its inhabitants, its ways, its customs. All these are subjects of deep interest to him. You are leaving the land of your nativity, you are going to spend the rest of your life in a new hemisphere. It would be strange indeed if you did not desire information about your new abode. Now surely, if we hope to dwell for ever in that “better country, even a heavenly one,” we ought to seek all the knowledge we can get about it. Before we go to our eternal home we should try to become acquainted with it.  —J. C. Ryle, Heaven

One day when George MacDonald, the great Scottish preacher and writer, was talking with his son, the conversation turned to heaven and the prophet's version of the end of all things.  “It seems too good to be true,” the son said at one point.  A smile crossed MacDonald's whiskered face.  “Nay, “ he replied, “it is just so good it must be true.”  —Larry Dixon, Heaven: Thinking Now About Forever

I suspect that every saved soul in heaven is a great wonder, and that heaven is a vast museum of wonders of grace and mercy—a palace of miracles, in which everything will surprise everyone who gets there. —Charles Spurgeon, “Feeble Faith Appealing To A Strong Savior”

It is virtually beyond our power to conceive of a future as consistently delightful as that which Christ is preparing for us. And who is to say what is possible with God? —A. W. Tozer, Born After Midnight

For more on the New Earth, see Randy’s book  Heaven . You can also browse our resources on Heaven and additional books.

Photo by Daniel Lincoln on Unsplash