Full of the Impossible

Tullian Tchividjian:  Nothing That Is Possible Can Save Us

Below, my good friend and colleague David Zahl provides the best Advent devotion I’ve read in a long time:

“She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” (Matthew 1:21)

The poet W.H. Auden once wrote, “Nothing that is possible can save us/ We who must die demand a miracle.” This is a bold statement, and one whose truth might not be self-evident in everyday life. Many of the problems we face on a daily level can be fixed, or at least, addressed: If our car breaks down, we can take it to the garage. If we get a headache, we can take some aspirin. If we say something mean, we can apologize, and so on.

Auden’s meaning becomes clearer when we consider problems of a less everyday nature. The kind that keep us up at night. I was speaking with a friend recently who had just separated from his wife. He told me, “I’ve done everything I can think of. Even couples’ counseling hasn’t helped. She just doesn’t want me. It’s going to take a miracle to save our marriage.” He had pursued all the right options, and nothing had worked. The problem was simply beyond him. So it is with us. Our condition is not fixable. That is, we can empirically say that the solution to human nature has not been found in the realm of “what’s possible.” Instead, we need a miracle to save us – from ourselves, from our sin, and ultimately, from death.

It should comes as no surprise that the birth of the one “who will save his people from their sins” was full of the Impossible. Mary’s pregnancy is merely the first part. Equally miraculous is the fact that Joseph actually believes what the angel tells him here. And he not only believes, he obeys. These are miracles! To explain them away or downplay their importance is to deny the extent of the Good News.

Is there a situation in your life where nothing short of a miracle will help? An impossible problem or person that just won’t go away? This passage gives us permission to acknowledge that some problems are indeed too big for us. You are not imagining things – “we who must die demand a miracle”. Yet the “glad tidings” of Christmas are that Jesus is the miracle we have been waiting for, the one who saves us. The impossible problems of this life have found their impossible answer in him. Repeat the sounding joy!

(The above first appeared in the must-have Mockingbird Devotional)

My Soul Magnifies the Lord

A favorite:

Lord of All Creation

843 Acres Advent: Mary, Did You Know?
BY BETHANY

Song requested by a Facebook fan in Missouri and text requested by an email subscriber in New York. 

The Text

And Mary said,
“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.
For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
And his mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;
he has brought down the mighty from their thrones
and exalted those of humble estate;
he has filled the hungry with good things,and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
as he spoke to our fathers,
to Abraham and to his offspring forever.”

The Story 

When Mark Lowry was a child, he was hyperactive and nonathletic, but he loved performing on stage. When he was only ten years old, he sang in front of 15,000 gospel music fans at the National Quartet Convention, where Benson Records signed him. Today, Mark is a singer, comedian, and songwriter.

In 1986, when Mark was 26 years old, his pastor in Houston asked him to write the program for the living Christmas tree production. Since the choir was singing traditional carols, Mark was writing bridges to connect the songs. While working, he began to wonder what Mary’s perspective might have been. “When I wrote this thing about Mary,” he recalled, “I began thinking I was interviewing her on her thoughts of being a mother to Jesus. A couple of the lines I wrote really stood out, like, ‘when you kiss your little baby, you’ve kissed the face of God.’ I just thought this needed to be a song.” [1] He wrote the words, however, and had no tune.

Four years later, Bill Gaither was looking for a new baritone for the Gaither Vocal Band. After watching a video of Mark performing, he thought that Mark would be a vibrant and fun addition to the group. Bill invited him to join, and Mark packed his bags. Then, after two years, Buddy Green joined the band. Since Buddy was a talented songwriter, Mark decided to solicit his help. He shared the words of his poem and attached a note: “Buddy, here are some God-inspired words. Please add some beautiful music and make it a profitable hit.” Mark the humorist was kidding, but Buddy did what his friend asked. He set the poem to music a few weeks later and then called Mark on the phone to sing it. Within a week, they recorded it.

On a personal note, Mark lost his own mother, Bev Lowry, a few weeks ago on Monday, December 2. On his Facebook page, Mark wrote, “Mama went home to be with The Lord tonight. She was eating dinner at the nursing home and her heart stopped. She’s with Jesus now. Please pray for my sweet daddy. Mama’s last words were, ‘I’m going to the light on the other side.’” [2]

The Lyrics

Mary did you know that your baby boy would some day walk on water?
Mary did you know that your baby boy would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you’ve delivered, will soon deliver you.

Mary did you know that your baby boy would give sight to a blind man?
Mary did you know that your baby boy would calm a storm with his hand?
Did you know that your baby boy has walked where angels trod?
And when your kiss your little baby, you have kissed the face of God.

Oh Mary did you know

The blind will see, the deaf will hear, the dead will live again.
The lame will leap, the dumb will speak, the praises of the lamb

Mary did you know that your baby boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary did you know that your baby boy would one day rule the nations?
Did you know that your baby boy is heaven’s perfect Lamb?
This sleeping child you’re holding is the great I AM.

God Never Gets It Wrong

Jonathan Parnell post:  God Will Fulfill His Purposes for You

“I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfills his purpose for me.”

This is the straightforward truth that David clings to in Psalm 57:2.

Here he states two basic facts: God has a purpose for him and God will fulfill that purpose. Both these truths combine to become that deep and wondrous theological concept we call “providence.” The word was much more common centuries ago than it is today, though its relevancy has never waned. Its meaning captures God’s relationship to the created world, namely, that he both preserves the order of all things and guides them toward his intended end.

Providence is the sovereignty of God made palpable. It’s the outworking of his power and authority for his children in space and time, which means, in the things we schedule, the air we breathe, the moments we move. Providence is observed, experienced, tasted. We may even say it’s the distinctively Christian term for reality.

Since God is sovereign, and this world is his, then every moment, in a sense, is a moment of providence. Wherever you find yourself right now has come by the process of events he ordained. Every past moment of your life has led to your now. The same will be true tonight, and tomorrow, and ten years in the future. Our experience of providence is our experience of the present, which we know has been wondrously woven together by God.

And because God is behind it all, we, as those united to Christ by faith, are assured of this: God’s providence neither gets it wrong nor lets us go, ever.

His Decree and Promise

First, we should immediately stop every instinct in us that wants to pass this off as cobweb orthodoxy. It is orthodoxy, and it’s beautifully ancient, but it’s more current than we ever expected. Providence is actually so contemporary that it anticipates how vastly different things often seem from our perspective. Rarely does it feel like every event in our lives is for our good. But providence, in its mysterious movements, flanks the arguments about how we may feel and compels our faith in the God who is doing “ten thousand times more” than we realize. This doing, whether seen or unseen, whether painful or pleasant, is resolutely and effectively targeting our eternal joy. We will be like Christ . . . with him . . . forever (1 Corinthians 15:49; Psalm 16:10–11).

God’s intended aim for his people, after all, is that we are conformed to the image of Jesus. This is his decree and promise, having chosen us for this before the foundation of the world and having promised us unto this that all things will work together (Romans 8:28–30).

God’s providence is his execution of that decree and promise, as Puritan John Flavel explains. In fact, nothing ever happens in the universe that is outside of fulfilling that decree and promise. Nothing. There isn’t a single incident, or tragedy, that will result in something other than the “true interest and good of the saints” (Mystery of Providence, 19).

God never gets it wrong. He doesn’t swing and miss. Every detail of our days comes through the blueprints of his meticulous care for us. And even when all hope seems lost, remember he is the one who “gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist” (Romans 4:17) — and he will do that for you.

His Resolute Focus

Not only is God flawlessly at work for our good, but he doesn’t let loose until he’s finished. God’s providence never dries up or fizzles out. It is always in action to accomplish his intended aim. Everything he does is right, and it is all right until it’s done. Flavel writes,

[Providence] goes through with its designs, and accomplishes what it begins. No difficulty so clogs it, no cross accident falls in its way, but it carries its design through it. Its motions are irresistible and uncontrollable. (19)

“He does all that he pleases,” “no purpose of [his] can be thwarted,” and “none can stay his hand” (Psalm 115:3; Job 42:2; Daniel 4:35) — these words about God are assurances that he will complete what he began in us (Philippians 1:6). Nothing can separate us from his love for us in Christ (Romans 8:39), and nothing can distract the simplest of circumstances from hitting the target of our transformation. There’s no stalling with God. He doesn’t procrastinate. Even if we are innocently obtuse to his designs right now, God’s providence is blaring full-throttle toward our Christlikeness, and his glory.

Be revived, encouraged, comforted, God is fulfilling his purpose for you.

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Come, Joyful and Triumphant

David Mathis post:  Let Us Adore Him

Advent is not just about acknowledging Jesus, but adoring him. Christmas is not first about witness, but about worship. So, come, all ye faithful. Come, joyful and triumphant. Let us adore our Christ.

But beware your standard of who can come in worship. At Jesus’s own birth, it wasn’t the squeaky-clean, religious elites of biblical faith who bowed the knee in worship. Rather, they bowed their back, and it was the dirty pagans who streamed in to adore him.

All Ye Faithful

We need look no further than the magi of Matthew 2 for our model of the “faithful.” To call them “three kings” is overstated. “Wise men” is positive spin. These guys are more like sorcerers. They are star-gazing, pagan astrologers, watching for who-knows-what in the skies, rather than the Scriptures, and God in his grace comes to them through the very channel of their sin. Even here at Jesus’s birth, he is making wizards into worshipers worldwide. Even from the priestly class of pagan religion.

Don’t miss the message of the magi: If such sinners as these can approach the Christ and fall down in worship, so may all. Pagan astrologers prostrate in adoration is a stunning emblem announcing that all sinners may come.

Joyful and Triumphant

You know the well-worn lines from Matthew 2:10–11. But let’s travel these trails again and see the magi adore the Jewish Messiah.

When they saw the star [resting over the place where the child was], they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy. And going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.

Matthew piles up the joy language so that we don’t miss it. They didn’t just rejoice, but did so exceedingly. And added to that, they did so “with joy” — and even more, “great joy.”

Perhaps we would have thought of the shepherds in Luke 2 as the crazy emotional types, while these erudite pagan astrologers keep calm and collected. But the joy language explodes here in Matthew 2 with even greater gusto than Luke 2 when the angels announced “good news of a great joy that will be for all the people” (Luke 2:10) and the shepherds “returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen” (Luke 2:20). Here our wicked wizards, Matthew says, “rejoiced exceedingly with great joy.”

Come and Behold Him

And such explosive joy is not disconnected from their worship of the baby Jesus. Exceeding great joy is the stuff of true adoration. The essence of worship is not physical actions and mere motions of homage. At its heart, worship is in “spirit and truth,” as Jesus says in John 4 — true things about Jesus and a spirit of great joy about him — spiritually looking to Jesus and rejoicing exceedingly with great joy.

But what does it mean here that the astrologers “worshiped” this child? Did they know he was God in the flesh? Were they worshiping him as the God-man? They may merely be paying homage to one whom they anticipate will be a great earthly king. Maybe. Perhaps the magi heard from Jewish exiles in Babylon about the Balaam prophecy in Numbers 24:17, “A star shall come out of Jacob, and a scepter shall rise out of Israel.”

But it seems more is going on here. If by “worship,” Matthew merely means that they paid him homage, as subjects pay homage to their king, then it seems odd to travel so far and redundant to say “they fell down.” Falling down is the physical posture, but “worship” is what what is going on in their hearts as they see this newborn king who will reign not only over Israel but the whole world, thus making them his subjects even though they aren’t Israelites.

We Worship All the More

At least in some sense, they are worshiping better than they know, and Matthew wants us to see that. In chapter one, he has already told us of the virgin conception and that this baby is called “Immanuel, God with us” (Matthew 1:23) and that he will save his people from their sins (Matthew 1:21). And in this Gospel, Matthew will unfold the surprising story of how this child born king will walk an excruciating path to his cosmic reign — a path literally excruciating, in dying odiously, and sacrificially, on a Roman cross en route to glory.

And since we Christians now know more, we adore him all the more, and come to Christmas with no less joy than these emotionally enthused magi. Our Advent worship is more that of these star-gazing “wise men” than it is that of the scrupulous Jerusalem religious elite, who know their Scriptures, but won’t bow their knee. We come as sinners, struggling, unclean, unimpressive, veritable astrologers.

But it doesn’t mean we come joyless here on this third Sunday of Advent. Rather, because he is marvelously merciful — because his advent is Grace Incarnate (Titus 2:11), because he came to seek and save lost magi (Luke 19:10), to heal the sick and call the sinners (Matthew 2:17), to serve the spiritual broken (Mark 10:45) and destroy the works of the devil (1 John 3:8) — we come joyful and triumphant. Sinners come, even in star-gazing rebellion so great as ours, and we adore Christ the Lord with joy — rejoicing exceedingly with great joy.

Come, let us adore him.

Relying on God, not Politics or Money

Don Carson post:  2 Chronicles 16; Revelation 5; Zechariah 1; John 4

2 Chronicles 16; Revelation 5; Zechariah 1; John 4 

BEGINNING WELL DOES NOT mean ending well. Judas Iscariot began as an apostle; Demas began as an apostolic helper. We know how they ended up. Asa began as a reforming king zealous for God, a man who displayed formidable faith and courage when the Cushites attacked (review yesterday’s meditation)—but how he ends up in 2 Chronicles 16 is frankly disquieting.

The crisis was precipitated when Baasha, king of Israel, attacked some of Judah’s outlying towns and cities. Instead of displaying the same kind of resolute faith he had shown twenty-five years earlier, when he had to face the more formidable Cushites, Asa opts for a costly political expedient. He strips both the temple and his own palace of wealth, and sends it to Ben-Hadad, ruler of the rising regional power of Aram, centered in Damascus. Asa wants Ben-Hadad to attack Israel from the north, thereby forcing Baasha to withdraw his troops from the southern assault and defend himself in the north. The ploy worked.

This was also linking Judah with Aram in dangerous ways. More importantly, the prophet Hanani puts his finger on the worst element in this strategy: Asa is depending on politics and money, and not on the Lord God. “Were not the Cushites and Libyans a mighty army with great numbers of chariots and horsemen? Yet when you relied on the LORD, he delivered them into your hand. For the eyes of the LORD range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him. You have done a foolish thing, and from now on you will be at war” (2 Chron. 16:8–9). [emphasis added]

Even then the situation might have been retrieved: God so regularly listens to the truly repentant. But Asa merely becomes angry, so enraged that he throws Hanani the prophet into prison. His dictatorial urges multiply, and Asa begins to brutalize the people (2 Chron. 16:10). Four years later he contracts a wretched disease, but instead of asking for the Lord’s help (let alone his forgiveness), he entrenches himself in bitterness and seeks help only from the physicians. Two years of disease later, he dies.

What about all those years of godly reform? We are not in the position, of course, to offer a final accounting: that belongs to God alone. But people can be on the side of goodness or reform for all kinds of reasons other than love of God; phenomenologically, people can have a heart for God for a long time (2 Chron. 15:17) but wilt before demonstrating final perseverance. In a disciplined person, it may take a while before the truth comes out. But when it does, the test, as always, is fundamental: Am I number one, or is God?

A Gift, Pure and Simple

Tullian Tchividjian post:  Grace, Grace, And More Grace

The definition I give for grace in One-Way Love comes from Paul Zahl:

Grace is love that seeks you out when you have nothing to give in return. Grace is love coming at you that has nothing to do with you. Grace is being loved when you are unlovable…. The cliché definition of grace is “unconditional love.” It is a true cliché, for it is a good description of the thing. Let’s go a little further, though. Grace is a love that has nothing to do with you, the beloved. It has everything and only to do with the lover. Grace is irrational in the sense that it has nothing to do with weights and measures. It has nothing to do with my intrinsic qualities or so-called “gifts” (whatever they may be). It reflects a decision on the part of the giver, the one who loves, in relation to the receiver, the one who is loved, that negates any qualifications the receiver may personally hold…. Grace is one-way love.

Grace doesn’t make demands. It just gives. And from our vantage point, it always gives to the wrong person. We see this over and over again in the Gospels: Jesus is always giving to the wrong people—prostitutes, tax collectors, half-breeds. The most extravagant sinners of Jesus’s day receive his most compassionate welcome. Grace is a divine vulgarity that stands caution on its head. It refuses to play it safe and lay it up. Grace is recklessly generous, uncomfortably promiscuous. It doesn’t use sticks, carrots, or time cards. It doesn’t keep score. As Robert Capon puts it, “Grace works without requiring anything on our part. It’s not expensive. It’s not even cheap. It’s free.” It refuses to be controlled by our innate sense of fairness, reciprocity, and evenhandedness. It defies logic. It has nothing to do with earning, merit, or deservedness. It is opposed to what is owed. It doesn’t expect a return on investments. It is a liberating contradiction between what we deserve and what we get. Grace is unconditional acceptance given to an undeserving person by an unobligated giver.

It is one-way love.

Think about it in your own life for a moment. Odds are you have caught a glimpse of one-way love at some point, and it made all the difference. Someone let you off the hook when you least expected or deserved it. A friend suspended judgment at a key moment. Your father was lenient when you wrecked his car. Your teacher gave you an extension, even though she knew you had been procrastinating. You said something insensitive to your spouse, and instead of retaliating, she kept quiet and somehow didn’t hold it against you the next day. If you’re married, odds are the person you ended up with showed you this kind of love at some point along the line.

When the chain of quid pro quo is broken, all sorts of wonderful things can happen. One-way love has the unique power to inspire generosity, kindness, loyalty, and more love, precisely because it removes any and all requirement to change or produce. And yet, as beautiful and lifesaving as grace can be, we often resist it. By nature, we are suspicious of promises that seem too good to be true. We wonder about the ulterior motives of the excessively generous. We long ago stopped opening those emails and letters that tell us what we’ve “already won.” What’s the catch? What’s the fine print? What’s in it for them?

Grace is a gift, pure and simple. We might insist on trying to pay, but the balance has been settled (and our money’s no good!). Of course, even if we’re able to accept one-way love when it comes our way, we have trouble when it reaches other people, especially those who’ve done us wrong. Grace offends our sense of justice by being both implausible and unfair. We are uncomfortable because grace turns the tables on us, relieving us of our precious sense of control. It tears up the time card we were counting on to be assured of that nice, big paycheck on Friday. It forces us to rely on the goodness of Another, and that is simply terrifying. However much we may hate having to get up and go to the salt mines every day, we distrust the thought of completely resting in the promised generosity of God even more. So we try to domesticate the message of one-way love—after all, who could trust in or believe something so radically unbelievable? Robert Capon articulates the prayer of the grace-averse heart:

Restore to us, Preacher, the comfort of merit and demerit. Prove for us that there is at least something we can do, that we are still, at whatever dim recess of our nature, the masters of our relationships. Tell us, Prophet, that in spite of all our nights of losing, there will yet be one redeeming card of our very own to fill the inside straight we have so long and so earnestly tried to draw to. But whatever you do, do not preach grace… We insist on being reckoned with. Give us something, anything; but spare us the indignity of this indiscriminate acceptance.

The idea that there is an unconditional love that relieves the pressure, forgives our failures, and replaces our fear with faith seems too good to be true.

Longing for hope in a world of hype, the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the news we have been waiting for all our lives. Jesus came to liberate us from the weight of having to make it on our own, from the demand to measure up. He came to emancipate us from the burden to get it all right, from the obligation to fix ourselves, find ourselves, and free ourselves. Jesus came to release us from the slavish need to be right, rewarded, regarded, and respected. Because Jesus came to set the captives free, life does not have to be a tireless effort to establish ourselves, justify ourselves, and validate ourselves.

Once this good news grips your heart, it changes everything. It frees you from having to be perfect. It frees you from having to hold it all together. In the place of exhaustion, you might even find energy. No, the Gospel of grace is not too good to be true. It is true! It’s the truest truth in the entire universe. God loves us independently of what we may or may not bring to the table. There are no strings attached! No ifs, ands, or buts. No qualifiers or conditions. No need for balance. Grace is the most dangerous, expectation-wrecking, smile-creating, counterintuitive reality there is.

Grace is a bit like a roller coaster; it makes us scream in terror and laugh uncontrollably at the same time. But there aren’t any harnesses on this ride. We are not in the driver’s seat, and we did not design the twists and turns. We just get on board. We laugh as the binding law of gravity is suspended, and we scream because it looks like we’re going to hurtle off into space. Grace brings us back into contact with the children we once were (and still are)—children who loved to ride roller coasters, to smile and yell and throw our hands up in the air. Grace, in other words, is terrifyingly fun, and like any ride worth standing in line for, it is worth coming back to again and again. In fact, God’s one-way love may be the only ride that never gets old, the only ride we thankfully never outgrow. A source of inexhaustible hope and joy for an exhausted world.