Al-Pal @alexandrummer - Tumblr Blog

Palm Sunday and COVID-19

Haven’t posted on here in a minute, but here are some thoughts on this most weird of Holy Weeks.

A few years ago I wrote a tumblr post about the duality of the nature of Palm Sunday. It is an oxymoron. Although the people of Jerusalem gathered in droves to kiss His feet, they used the same mouths to spit on His face only a few days later. The happy cheers of “Hosanna!” would soon be replaced by mocking jeers of “crucify Him!” Although the city was filled with celebration and praise, Luke 19:41 says that Jesus saw the city and wept over it its state. And to prove His point, in the following passage He made His way to the desecrated temple to drive out all the merchants earning massive profits through sinful gain.

Fast-forward 2,000 some years later, how does this relate to the current times that we are in? A lethal pandemic has swept the globe, the likes of which none of us have ever seen before. The end is not very near in sight, generalized anxiety is at an all time high, and there are little to no answers for it. It’s safe to say that it feels like this pandemic sucked all the happiness and cheer out of the world.

Perhaps this current time can be looked at as the opposite of Palm Sunday. There is no fake cheer or applause to hide behind--the world is hurting with bad news after bad news. Unlike the Israelites with their lucrative temple markets, the security of living in the world’s greatest economy is starting to look like an illusion as we enter into a massive recession. Whereas the Israelites could afford to hide their brokenness with feigned applause, our brokenness is on full display at this moment.

Now, I’m not an optimist. I don’t like looking for silver linings in situations where there is none. I can’t explain to you how the death of hundreds of thousands of people around the globe is a positive thing. But if I may, perhaps on this Palm Sunday, we can reflect on this--that our brokenness is on full display. And perhaps that is God’s grace to us. Whatever illusions of cheer or happiness we were living under can now be broken and seen for what it is--temporary and insufficient. But God’s grace is made manifest to us in that only after we have been exposed can we then truly call upon His name for salvation. Only then will our repentance from sin be pure and bring true regeneration to our dry bones. Only then will we be able to shout true “Hosannas” and praises unto Him.

I heard someone once say that “strong faith in a weak branch is far more dangerous than weak faith in a strong branch”.

When this pandemic is all over, what are you going to trust again? You’ve seen for yourself how quickly a world can unravel, or how quickly institutions and economies we once trusted in can crumble. Although your faith may be weak, trust the Strong Branch. Do not resort to trusting the weak branches of old. It is not the strength of your faith that saves you, but the strength of the object of your faith. Hope you take encouragement from this today. (If anyone still reads this)

At a certain point...

One can imagine him conversing thus with his pastor: “I have lost the faith I once had.” “You must listen to the Word as it is spoken to you in the sermon.” “I do; but I cannot get anything out of it, it just falls on deaf ears as far as I’m concerned.” “The trouble is, you don’t really want to listen.” “On the contrary, I do.”

And here they generally break off, because the pastor is at a loss for what to say next. He only remembers the first half of the proposition: “Only those who believe obey.” But this does not help, for faith is just what this particular man finds impossible. The pastor feels himself confronted with the ultimate riddle of predestination. God grants faith to some and withholds it from others. So the pastor throws up the sponge and leaves the poor man to his fate. And yet this ought to be the turning point of the interview. It is the complete turning point. The pastor should give up arguing with him, and stop taking his difficulties seriously. That will really be in the man’s own interest, for he is only trying to hide himself behind them. It is now time to take the bull by the horns, and say: “Only those who obey believe.” Thus the flow of the conversation is interrupted, and the pastor can continue: “You are disobedient, you are trying to keep some part of your life under your own control. That is what is preventing you from listening to Christ and believing in his grace. You cannot hear Christ because you are willfully disobedient. Somewhere in your heart you are refusing to listen to his call. Your difficulty is your sins.”

...The strong point which the refractory sinner had occupied must be stormed, for in it Christ cannot be heard. The truant must be dragged from the hiding-place which he has built for himself. Only then can he recover the freedom to see, hear, and believe. Of course, though it is a work, the first step entails no merit in the sight of Christ--it can never be more than a dead work. Even so Peter has to get out of the ship before he can believe.

- Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship

Ode to Oakland

*This will kind of be a different piece compared to most of my other posts on here... but for some reason I felt compelled to write about Oakland today.*

I’ve always had a complicated relationship with Oakland. Growing up as a San Diego Chargers fan, Oakland was always our city rival. So I was sort of indoctrinated from an early age that Oakland is everything opposite of San Diego. If San Diego was clean, calm, and laid-back, then Oakland was indecent, rowdy, and unkempt--certainly not a place where a true native San Diegan like me would ever live in, let alone be happy in. That is, until I went to college in Berkeley.

To this day, apart from the sovereign will of God, I don’t know why my 18-year old self didn’t choose UCLA, where the red brick was always pristine and aesthetically similar to San Diego. Instead, I chose Berkeley, a city whose streets were laden with litter and ubiquitously reeked of weed. If you don’t know, Berkeley and Oakland are seamlessly connected, so by virtue of proximity, they not only share a lot of the same streets, but they also share a lot of the same history, culture, and tradition. So while I never lived in an Oakland zip code per se, Berkeley was essentially an extension of Oakland--the very place I never thought I’d be happy in.

And for the first few years of college, this stood true. I often dreamt of those glorious La Jolla shores, world-class Mexican food, and the familiarity of family and friends. Every time I tripped on the poorly-kept sidewalks of Durant Ave or feared for my life walking home after late classes, my love for SD and disdain for Oakland would only grow more polarized.

There came a point, however, when Oakland stopped being just a mere physical location that didn’t require my emotional attachment. Lifelong friends were made here. Memories were made here--joyful and sorrowful ones. Through shadowing, I learned the incredible stories of Oakland families, and through church, I spent quality time with and served these people. Whether I liked it or not, a piece of Oakland had found its way into the fabric of my life. Think about it--four out of 22 years of life (at the time) were spent here. How could I not be attached to this city?

Fast forward to 2019, and I’ve lived in Chicago now for almost 8 months. Right now, I’m in the brunt of a brutal midwestern winter. So it’s no surprise that my mind subconsciously copes by reminiscing of better, warmer days in California. What is surprising, though, is that the mental pictures that occupy my mind are not of the sunny, powder-sand beaches of San Diego. I find myself dreaming about Oakland. The colorful murals, the cracked sidewalks, and Telegraph Ave. Driving down the 880 to Oakland Chinatown, where I’m pretty sure 1 out of 4 cars get broken into every night. Sitting in my parked car outside of San Pablo Park when the rain is coming down hard outside. The pink-blue-golden sunset backdrop against the Bay Bridge vista. All of it. How ironic is it that the city I resented to move into became the city I was so reluctant to leave behind?

Not sure why I was compelled to write about this today. But I think the main takeaway is this--in times of transition, it’s very easy to experiencing feelings of being trapped, resentment, or impatience. But I think one thing the LORD is teaching me in Chicago is to remember what I learned in Oakland--that wherever I am at any point in life, be fully present. Love the city and love the people in Christ’s name. I’m not merely passing through this city on my way to the next destination. This is the LORD’s gift to me here and now to steward well for His glory.

Suffice it to say, I miss the Bay. And I can’t wait to come in April to meet my new niece.

Mild He Lay His Glory By

When we talk about the Christmas story, everyone tends to gravitate to the Nativity narrative. They talk about the little town of Bethlehem, or the baby in the manger, or the wisemen bringing gifts. Basically, the first few chapters in each gospel. But I’ve found that one of the most poignant passages about Christmas is actually found in Philippians 2, verses 6-8.

(go read the passage)

Through the years, I’ve come to really value ideals such as justice and fairness. I think it just makes intuitive sense as a human being. Surely, it is a good thing for people to do what they are entitled to do and receive what they deserve to receive–no questions asked. And whatever is your unalienable right, exercise it without remorse. But then I come across this:

“...who though He [Jesus] was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, by taking the form of a bondservant, being born in the likeness of men.” - Php. 2:6-7

This sentence alone flies in the face of all the ideals that I’ve come to cherish. Christ did not count equality with God as a thing to be grasped. Why not? He would only be true to Himself if He clung onto His equality with God! That would be His unalienable right. Why would He not assert every aspect of His God-ness in its entirety, as this passage seems to suggest?

The fact of the matter is that we love to cry out “Justice! Justice!” on unjust matters that we see in this world--which we absolutely should, make no mistake. But contrary to what we’d like to think, we are not such staunch advocates of justice as we pretend to be. Because what we don’t realize is that we have an outstanding criminal record against the God of the universe... and if He were to assert every aspect of His God-ness, then He would have never come to earth. If He were truly just and fair, He could have pronounced His judgment on us from afar. And as God, He could have had every right to do so. We would not be recipients of injustice if He did so. Suddenly, all of our loud cries for “Justice!” seem to subside as we find ourselves in the defendant’s seat, don’t they?

And yet, it was He who chose to become the recipient of the most unjust act in universal history--a perfect, spotless God bearing the penalty that rightfully belonged to petty, rebellious criminals. He chose to empty Himself of His beauty and glory, take the form of a lowly bondservant, and live obedient to death on a cross (Php 2:7, Isa 53:2, Jn 17:4).

It is this very truth that stumps me to this day. Why, oh why would He do that for a sinner like me? You may say, “well, the answer is easy--it’s because He loves us”. But I don’t find that answer satisfactory because this just begs the same question, except asked in a different way--why would He choose to love a sinner like me? To that, I have no answer. And maybe rightfully so. Because perhaps our dumbfoundedness and awe on this subject is a testament to how inexhaustible and unsearchable is the magnitude of His love and mercy towards us.

So this is the Christmas message--that we have an absurd God, enough to lay down His glory. That we have a Savior who did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped. That our hopeless state was made hopeful all because our God bore injustice on our behalf. Hallelujah.

Mild He lay His glory by, Born that man no more may die.

Florida undergrad and lacrosse player Makenzie Mason opens up about her struggles with depression and her childhood growing up as the daughter of a college football coach.

“People too often only hear about someone's depression after that person takes their own life, then wonder what they could have done to help. That needs to change. I get why someone who has never gone through it would have a hard time understanding what would drive someone to commit suicide -- because it isn't rational. But that's just it: Depression is a disease that infects your brain to the point where you can no longer think rationally. “

O shame and vice, you are my dearest friends because you have taught me that I need Christ. O virtues, you deceivers, you encouraged me to think I only need myself

St. Augustine

Why This Waste?

Earlier this week, I was sent an article about a missionary named John Chau who was martyred while trying to share the gospel to the Sentinelese people just off the shores of India. Admittedly, I ignored it at first. But after it blew up on the internet, I finally read into the situation. And his story brought to mind the narrative of Jesus anointed by the woman at Bethany.

Just days before his death, Jesus was dining with his disciples at the home of Simon the Leper when all of a sudden a woman named Mary comes to pour a year’s worth of perfume onto Jesus’ head (Mk 14:3) and begins wiping his feet with her hair (Jn 12:3). Judas Iscariot then angrily asks, “Why this waste? This perfume could have sold for more than a year’s wages and the money given to the poor!” (Mk 14:5). And Jesus quiets and rebukes him, saying that everywhere the gospel is preached, the story of what this woman has done will be told.

All of this has made me reflective on the trajectory of my life and my own experiences in Chicago so far. I’m here in medical school, and I hear a lot excitement for me coming from other people. “Alex! You’re going to make such a great doctor!” and “I can’t wait to see what kind of positive impact you’ll make in medicine!”. It should go without saying that I appreciate these kind, undeserved words, no doubt. But what if after residency, God so chooses (either with or without my full enthusiasm) to redirect my life in some other path that has nothing to do with medicine to somehow bring Him more glory? Would I be foolish and absurd? Would that be an inefficient use of the past 7+ years and $200,000 of tuition? Would I be an irresponsible steward of this privilege I have of practicing medicine? Sure. But as I read the Bible, as I grow in my understanding of what’s primary versus secondary in this life, I begin to realize that such a life of complete surrender to God is not ultimately foolish or irresponsible. It may be seen as such in this life, but on the landscape of eternity, it’s just plain smart. It just makes perfect sense to invest in that which is not fleeting but eternal.

In reading all these articles on John Chau, I couldn’t help but notice the mocking and outrage against John Chau--even by self-professing Christians: “What a fool! Stupid religious colonizer. Complete waste of a perfectly good life and education”. But could it be that those who grind and labor for Christ in obscurity on this earth are the talk of heaven? If all we’ve got is this life here on earth, then sure, that was a dumb move. Even the Apostle Paul says in his letter to the Corinthians that if Christ has not been raised, then our faith is futile, we’re still in our sins, and Christians are the most to be pitied of all people.

But what a difference eternity makes! What a difference it makes that Christ resurrected! May my life, then, be poured out like perfume at the feet of Jesus. May you and I be like coins in His pocket, willing to be spent as He chooses.

“the king said to Nathan the prophet, “See now, I dwell in a house of cedar, but the ark of God dwells in a tent.” - 2 Samuel 7:2

How astute an observation by King David! And how strange a response to wealth, peace, and comfort! Therein lies the difference between biblical Christianity and the watered-down American gospel--that the more you know God, the more insipid the comforts of this world tastes to you. Or, the more you see God in all His worth and glory, the more you feel the inward tension and dissatisfaction with that which makes more of you and less of Him.

Surely the LORD is not some high-maintenance weakling. It is not as if David pitied the LORD and decided to come to His defense. And neither is it that God so desperately needs the feeble attention of man. Not at all! God needs defending no more than a fearsome lion would need defending in the presence of bunnies. And as Jesus says on Palm Sunday, if “they were to be silent, even the stones would cry out!” So God’s glory would not be diminished even if every human on earth were to rebel against Him.

What, then, is the spiritual matter that king David is tapping into? I believe he is tapping into the ageless fact that the one who loves God is the one who is wholly consumed by Him. In more provocative terms, the one who loves God is simply obsessed with Him. The one who loves God will care more about God’s opinion than those of man. The one who loves God mortifies any/every weight or sin that acts as an encumbrance--no matter how radical it may appear to those around him. They prioritize and rearrange their worldly assets with eternity in mind because eternity is indeed at stake. Their identity is not their status as a student. It is not their status as an engineer, a consultant, or even a CEO--it is being a bondservant of Jesus Christ (Rom 1:1).

So, just like David, I pray that we wouldn’t so easily sink into our houses of cedar. I pray that we wouldn’t feel right or settled living self-obsessed lives. I pray we’d be a people who are obsessed with God and His glory. And if you do not yet know Jesus, I pray you’d come to know the sweet treasure of knowing Christ, which makes every other gain seem like loss (Php 3:7-8).

Processing Again

After two months, I fixed my Macbook, which means I can finally write again. Writing with pen and paper takes too long, and typing with my thumbs on a phone is annoying... so I ended up not writing at all. Past two months were sort of hard since so much has happened to me, and writing all my thoughts down on here is the only way I like to process the thoughts, convictions, and events in my life. And having my Macbook die on me for the 10th time didn’t exactly help my cause. So here I am at Anderson Honda in Palo Alto waiting for my car to be serviced with my Bible to my left and my iPad playing Spotify to my right. I feel like myself again.

If there is anything I learned in the past two years of post-grad, it is this--that the grace of God has never been so evident in my life as it has been in the face of suffering and loss. The unbelieving world views suffering as senseless; it is only purposeless and damaging. But for the Christian, suffering is the backdrop upon which the hope of salvation can shine all the more brightly (Rom 5:3-5).

In 2 Corinthians, Paul says God gave him a thorn in his flesh, a messenger from satan to torment him... Can we all just acknowledge that that’s a really weird gift to get from God? And yet, what does Paul say shortly after? This was God’s grace to him from being conceited. This was God lovingly suffocating any grounds for earthly boasting so that the power and strength of Christ may be all the more realized in Paul’s life (2 Cor 12:7-10).

Similarly, the past two years for me were marked with much personal pain and disappointment--to the point where I really had nothing to show for. No accomplishment to boast in, no relationship to find validation in, no Plan B to fall back on. But it was only, only, only through these means that God ambushed me from the comfortable, idol-ridden, pride-laden path that I was on. And with each experience of loss, God seemed to have given me a deeper realization of the futility of worldly accomplishments, validation, and security. And in turn, He gave me a more profound understanding that all I could ever want, hope, or need is in Christ alone.

So at this risk of sounding masochistic (which I promise I’m not..), I can confidently say this: quite nothing has ever changed my life for the better as much as this God-ordained suffering has.

Reader, I hope you can identify with some of the struggles I faced. A lot of important stuff goes on during our mid-twenties. It’s a time of making lots of money and being financially stable. It’s a time of pursuing relationships and looking forward to marriage. All in all, it’s a time of discovering how to obtain happiness in this life.

I don’t necessarily believe these ambitions are inherently bad, but to each of these things I like to always ask, “for what?”. To what end are you doing all these things? Sure, you can have all the money, relationships, and temporary happiness in the world. But how do any of these things help you at the end of your life as you stand before your Maker and give an account for your life? As the Bible teaches, what does it profit a man to gain the whole world but lose his very soul?

As we enter into the mid-twenties, may we live our lives so that it counts on the landscape of human history. And may we embrace every suffering along the way--so long as it prepares us to embrace the deepest joy of knowing our savior Jesus Christ.

The Condemned Criminal and the Saved Criminal

Two others, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with [Jesus]... One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.” And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And he said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise” - Luke 23:32, 39-43

The more I read this passage, the more I am in awe of how profound, perfect of a depiction this is of salvation. What I mean is this--both of the men that hung next to Jesus on the cross were criminals. Both were guilty of their wrongdoing, and both were deserving of their punishment. The first criminal hurls insults at Jesus, half-mockingly (but also half-serious) commanding Jesus to use His power and might to save them from a gruesome physical death. But the second criminal does not cry out for mere deliverance from physical death. He is acknowledging and lamenting his guilty standing. He is confessing Jesus’ innocence and righteousness. He is seeing himself for who he is--a wretch. And He is seeing Jesus for who He is. The King of an endless Kingdom. The Son of God, the Messiah.

And it is at this point that the saved criminal gasps with whatever breath he has left in him, “remember me when you come into your kingdom”. Did you catch that? Not “if” you come into your kingdom, but “when” you come into your kingdom. This saved criminal has faith that he is indeed hanging next to the son of God because he acknowledges that this is not the end for Jesus--there is a coming kingdom awaiting Him. And what does the saved criminal desire WHEN Jesus comes into his kingdom? He says to “remember me”. Remember me. He desires to be joined with Jesus for eternity, even if just as a thought or memory in Jesus’ mind.

So it seems to me that the saved criminal does not fear death--at least not nearly as much as his accomplice does. Why would that be? Could it be that in Christ, the dread of bodily death does not scare us nearly as much as eternal separation from Christ? Could it be that in Christ, the sufferings and terrors that once plagued us are now inconsequential compared to the vastness of the glory that will be revealed in us once this earthly body is done away with? For the condemned criminal, his cry for salvation was merely a cry for life prolongation. That is his best desire. But for the saved criminal, his cry for salvation was a cry for true deliverance. Deliverance not from injury, illness, or morbidity--but deliverance from a past of sin and future of hell-bound life.

So what does this all suggest? Salvation comes not to those who are merely too scared for hell and death. Salvation comes to those who call upon the name of the LORD--those who, by grace and through faith, put their faith in the risen Son of the living God. The one who will come for His kingdom again.

And isn’t that why we call it “Good Friday”? That although it was the darkest, most unjust event in human history, it simultaneously shone the brightest ray of hope that death and sin had been conquered once and for all... and that we can be citizens of such a kingdom. Surely, for the saved criminal, it was a good Friday. May we, fellow criminals, continually discover that the cross is objective evidence that God is good to us.

Ephesians Sweep-through 1-4

Ephesians 1 - We have been predestined to be adopted as sons through Jesus Christ--in whom we find our inheritance, hope, and every spiritual blessing we could ever ask for.

Ephesians 2 - Naturally, we were in the most hopeless of situations--dead in our sins and children of wrath (v. 1, 3). BUT GOD (two of the most pivotal words in all of Scripture) by His grace made us alive together with Christ (v. 5). It is this same grace that calls not only the religious Israelites, but also the far-off, vile Gentiles to be welcomed into the family of God (v. 13). After all, we were ALL once dead in our trespasses (v. 1).

Ephesians 3 - Such a grace makes us, as Paul describes himself, prisoners of Christ (v. 1) and ministers of this precious gospel (v. 7)--not because we owe Him a debt that ought to be paid back, but because the preaching of such a mystery of grace is truly a gift, a privilege to us (v. 7).

Ephesians 4 - Since it is our privilege to build up the Body and to welcome the many once-far-off members of it, it is our spiritual obligation to grow and maintain this Body. For what is the point of welcoming far-off people to a hostile home? What distinction from the world does a worldly Body have? Or what power does an ungodly church have in an ungodly society? We then make it our aim to live our lives in a manner worthy of the gospel (v. 1). Nothing quenches the power of Christ’s church more than a failure to live in a manner worthy of the gospel (v. 20).

Today, the greatest challenge facing American evangelicals is not persecution from the world, but seduction by the world.

CJ Mahaney

The Comfort of Our Worthlessness

Some time ago, my good friend sent me a video of Todd White explaining how humans inherently have incredible self-worth and value. “Just look at the cross of Christ! God sent His one and only Son to die for YOU! You wouldn’t pay a million dollars for a piece of trash. So God wouldn’t pay His own Son for worthless people. God sent His Son because you have infinite worth!”

While this is certainly a flattering thought, I also don’t think it’s an accurate one. Here’s why.

It’s important to note that when Adam and Eve were made in the image of God, they were bestowed incredible honor and worth. And this honor and worth every bit belonged to them. Like a child receiving a toy on Christmas, the toy originated from the parent, but the toy now belongs to the child! It is the child’s gift to enjoy with thanksgiving unto the parent.

But the narrative of God’s people has always been this: that we have traded in our honor, beauty, worth for shameful things. Like Esau, we have traded in our birthright for a bowl of stew (Gen 25:29-34). The LORD washed us, anointed us with oil, and adorned us with gold, silver, and fine clothing. Yet we have prostituted ourselves and forfeited our worth for intimacy with the world (Ezk 16:8-22). Indeed, no one is good, and we have altogether become worthless (Rom 3:10-12).

Now, I realize how this could unsettle some people. Most of us have taken great refuge and comfort in knowing that no matter what mess we find ourselves in, at the end of the day, we are irresistibly precious, worthy people. But I want to (so so so) graciously lay before you this idea--that such an idea is neither true nor biblical. The reality is that we have altogether become worthless. But take heart! This hopeless situation is the backdrop upon which Jesus enters and displays His inconceivable love for us.

“For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person--though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die--but God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” - Rom 5:6-8

This is the gospel--that while we were still despicable, worthless sinners, Christ died for us. He did not purchase us with His blood because it was a worthy price to pay for our worthy selves... No! He purchased us because He has chosen to do so out of His love and grace. As to why He would choose to love a wretch like me, I have no answer. But what I do know is that He loves me nonetheless. And when I was at my worst, God sent His Son to die for me. When I needed a ransom, God provided one. My friend Mike Hamada described it like this:

“The price Jesus pays for our lives is not a price-tag to the department store of self-worth, but a debt to the prison of sin. That is why it is called a ransom. ‘The Son of Man came... to give his life as a ransom for many’” - Mark 10:45

Brothers and sisters, is this not more comforting? That the love of Christ can redeem the farthest, most hopeless of criminals. That His mighty hand and outstretched arm can reach the vilest of sinners and give them a pardon. The reason why the gospel is such good news is because it is premised by so much bad news--namely, the bad news of our worthless and vile condition. But it is only on this backdrop that we can truly appreciate the sweetness of the love of Christ. As Tim Keller puts it, we are far worse than we dare imagine, yet far more loved than we could ever dare hope.

The message of the Cross does not display our immense worth. It displays our immense debt. And only the God of the Bible would take on that debt for Himself. We have an absurd God. But praise Him that He is absurd. For if we had not an absurd God, we would have no hope.

The prodigal son who squandered his wealth and honor and found himself dwelling in the pig stye also found himself welcomed in his father’s home clothed with a ring on his finger and a robe on his back. In the same way, those who were formerly rolling in the filthy pig stye of worthlessness can find themselves clothed with the righteousness, honor, and worth of Christ for now and all eternity. Amen.

dlchen

People do not drift toward holiness. Apart from grace-driven effort, people do not gravitate toward godliness, prayer, obedience to Scripture, faith, and delight in the Lord. We drift toward compromise and call it tolerance; we drift toward disobedience and call it freedom; we drift toward superstition and call it faith. We cherish the indiscipline of lost self-control and call it relaxation; we slouch toward prayerlessness and delude ourselves into thinking we have escaped legalism; we slide toward godlessness and convince ourselves we have been liberated.

Don Carson (via dlchen)

Grace is the Premise

“Or do you show contempt for the riches of His kindness, tolerance and patience, not realizing that God's kindness leads you toward repentance?” - Romans 2:4

I think I understand this best when I realize it is God's lovingkindness that leads us to repentance--not our repentance that leads to His lovingkindness. We are not shown grace because God is impressed with our repentance. Neither is He a grumpy disciplinarian who finally warms up to us once we repent.

No--Romans 2:4 points us to a different truth. It authoritatively and decisively declares that God is kind, long-suffering, and patient BEFORE we even have it in our minds to repent. We repent not because it will afford us grace but because we have already been shown vast, immeasurable riches of grace in Christ. His grace is the premise by which we are not only able to, but also willing to repent.

Therefore, we do not grow cripplingly fearful of how our repentance is perceived before the LORD. The reality is that we are bad at repenting. Even our repentance will need repentance. But a broken and contrite heart, He will not despise. So come to Him and find all that you need and want, for He is gracious and willing to forgive.

It is by His grace that He will accept you as you are--with all the filth and sin. But it is also by that same grace that He will not leave you as you are in your filth and sin. Such is the saving power of His mighty hand and outstretched arm.

I Hope You Don’t Get What You Want

The LORD heard you when you wailed, “If only we had meat to eat! We were better off in Egypt!” Now the LORD will give you meat, and you will eat it. You will not eat it for just one day, or two days, or five, ten, or twenty days, but for a whole month--until it comes out of your nostrils and you loathe it--because you have rejected the LORD, who is among you, and have wailed before Him, saying, “Why did we ever leave Egypt?” - Numbers 11:18b-20

In Numbers 11, the LORD is incredibly angry with the Israelites. Straight up furious. So in His anger, how did God respond to the Israelites’ complaints against Him? He gave them exactly what they wanted: more meat--so much so that it would leak out of their noses and they’d hate it. He didn’t strike them down on the spot; all He did was give them what they had wanted. Is this not reminiscent of the other times the Bible has described God’s judgment? (See: Rom. 1:21-25, 1 Cor. 5:15)

When we talk of the judgment of God, we tend to gravitate towards mental images of destruction and disaster. It’s as if whenever we act up, God pelts us with a bolt of lightning to teach us a lesson. But as you read the Word more and more, you'll quickly see that our understanding of God’s judgment is badly skewed. Reading passages like these leads me to this conclusion: that contrary to what we think, God’s judgment doesn’t come in the form of cruel and unusual punishment. It often comes in the form of us getting exactly what we want. Exactly what we ask for.

This should make perfect sense. If Christ is truly the only way, truth, and life, then anything outside of Him will lead to one of many paths towards death and destruction. The scary thing is that these paths can be laden with glitter and pretty lights to make us believe our desires are pleasant and fulfilling. But when all is said and done, the glitter and lights will fade, and we will see just how hollow and disappointing our desires were all along.

Now, the beautiful thing is that the LORD actually uses this as a mechanism for redemption and salvation. He lets men and women follow their fleshly desires only to realize for themselves that the only good, trustworthy desire on this earth is a desire for Christ, and Him alone. Just like a child will learn how painful it is to touch a hot stove, the Christian will learn how empty it is to pursue their selfish desires.

But here is a sobering corollary: perhaps the worst thing that could ever happen to a human being is that they receive everything they could ever want and hope for... and be so content with it. That is a scary thought--to be so infatuated with the glittery, comfortable path to destruction and never even know what lies at the end of it. To be so drowned in worldly success, wealth, and happiness that you can no longer hear the warning call of God toward true Life in Christ.

And so my prayer for myself is this: that the LORD would keep away from me every attractive ambition, every peer approval, every sign of success that would deafen my ears to hear His call toward Himself. Even if that means I fail in the eyes of the world, I would rather fail 1000x and be in constant remembrance of these Christ-exalting truths than to abandon them altogether.

If I were a character in the Good Friday narrative...

I would be everyone except Jesus.

(Read Matthew 27)

I am like Judas who loved money with such profound affection that he would dare trade away the riches of knowing Christ for the riches of this Earth (v. 3).

I am like the Jews who joined together in unison to cry, “Crucify Him!”, preferring the comfort of acceptance by the peers around me over the comfort of acceptance by Christ alone (v. 23).

I am like Pilate who, in his passivity and lackadaisical view of sin, refused to own up to his sin and considered himself as having no responsibility in Jesus’ crucifixion (v. 24).

I am like the soldiers who gave Jesus a crown of thorns, profaning and belittling the glory of Christ in the way I live sometimes (v. 28-31).

And finally, I am like Barabbas, who, although undoubtedly guilty as charged, was declared guiltless and free because Christ died in my place (v. 26)

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