The other day while out walking with my dog I was listening to a podcast by a well-known Christian speaker. She asked the question: “Do you remember a time when you sinned, I mean really sinned? How did it feel?” I stopped to think on this. I’ve never murdered someone. But I did encourage a friend in my younger days to get an abortion. I’ve never been a thief, although I have, at times, realized I wasn’t charged for something correctly and didn’t go back to the store clerk. I’ve never cheated on my husband. But do those lustful thoughts count? I check in with my mom and dad, through gritted teeth. I put God first. Well, except for the times I put money and my children first. I’m good to my neighbors even though I’ve spoken badly about some. See, I’ve only sinned a wee bit.
I realized that every single time I sinned “just a little” made me feel a “little bit” broken. At times it made me feel a lot broken. The Christian speaker went on to say, “Now imagine Jesus on the cross. He is the only person to walk the Earth who has not sinned. But at that moment His Father placed all your darkness, all your brokenness, all your pain caused by sin on Him. There is no one else who has experienced so much pain. Imagine how He must have felt.” It brought me to tears. It brings me to tears as I write this.
This visual is what I praise God for today. The understanding of Jesus’ pain and sacrifice made for us. I previously hadn’t made an emotional connection to this powerful, earth shaking moment in our time. I had the knowledge but not the emotional response. Baptist teacher Oswald Chambers once said about Jesus on the cross:
The Cross was a superb triumph in which the foundations of hell were shaken. There is nothing more certain in Time or Eternity than what Jesus Christ did on the Cross: He switched the whole of the human race back into a right relationship with God.
Oswald Chambers
My father is reading The Saxon series books. In it, a character refers to Jesus as the “Nailed God.” It brought to mind movies I’ve seen showing the crucifixion. With each hammering of a nail through Jesus’ feet and wrists I cried. But it was out of sadness and horror. That day, when I visualized Jesus on the cross pulling, drawing and tearing our sins from us and placing them squarely in His own heart and soul I was overcome with gratefulness and sorrow. I want to apologize to Jesus. His gift to us caused Him so much pain.
It’s a well-accepted fact that when we are forced to work hard for something, say a new car, home, a good job, we tend to take better care of it. I didn’t have to work for the gifts of salvation and redemption. I’ve proven over and over that sin is easy for me to commit. I need to keep Jesus’ pain, his suffering, and His willingness to take mine, closer to mind each and every day. His love for us can only be repaid with obedience and thankfulness.
Life is like a stormy sea That tosses to and fro, But God’s Word will ever be A ballast for my soul; By its truth I’ll be held fast Till I reach heaven’s shore Where I will be home at last And sail life’s sea no more!
—Perry Boardman
How often do you feel like a sailing ship being tossed to and fro? Or a tiny dinghy out on a stormy lake? I certainly felt that way more times than I can count. My “peace-filled” days were the ones I could count on a couple hands. But Jesus is the Prince of Peace! It’s so fascinating to study the days of Jesus and His interactions with the leaders of the Jewish faith. We have the benefit of thousands of years of scholarly study to correctly interpret Jesus’ words. We also have the truth of the resurrection to back up Jesus’ position with God.
But think of those leaders who knew the prophesy in Isaiah 9:6 which states: “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” They certainly weren’t anxiously waiting for this Nazarene. A child born to a lowly woman. Someone not officially holding a title of Prince or even Rabbi. And yet there he stood.
“Shalom – peace – is a precious word to the Jewish people. It means more than just the absence of war or distress. Shalom means wholeness, completeness, health, security, even prosperity in the best sense. When you are enjoying God’s peace, there is joy and contentment,” says Warren Wiersbe on his commentary of John 14:25-31. The Pharisees, and other lay people, were looking for someone to just give them the absence of war and the gift of prosperity. They were missing out on the eternal peace that God gifts us through both war and prosperity. When I think of God’s peace the eye of a hurricane always comes to mind. This eye is an area of mostly calm weather inside a terrifying hurricane.
According to the website, A Catholic Gentleman, which promotes faith in men, “over 40 million Americans suffer from an anxiety disorder of some kind, and there are no doubt countless others that live with severe anxiety but are undiagnosed. “ But how do we obtain this elusive peace? The Catholic Gentleman gives some great insight:
First, it means living in the present moment. A great deal of anxiety comes from worrying about the past or the future, neither of which can be changed. Even though we know it is useless, we often expend untold emotional energy worrying.
Second, it means accepting the circumstances of life without impatient resistance, realizing that everything is either positively willed or at least allowed by God.
Finally, it means trust in the goodness of God. Many of us are afraid to completely abandon ourselves to the will of God because we are afraid of what it might mean.
These three pieces of advice are so clear and helpful. But they are not easy. I once told a good friend that some days just working on staying in the present moment took every ounce of energy I had. There are no quick fixes to this amazing gift God wants for us. Unlike grace and salvation which, once we accept Jesus as the son of God who removes our stains, is given fully and freely to us, the gift of peace can seem more like trying to open a clamshell style package. You think it looks simple and you try poking your fingernail between the two pieces of plastic. When that doesn’t work you look for a helpful tab somewhere the manufacturer must have added in order to tear that puppy open. But alas, none exists. Then you start trying to use brute strength or maybe your teeth. You feel a bit silly. I mean it’s you against a piece of plastic! You finally give in and get out a knife or scissors. And even that may lead to a bloody finger. When all is said and done you have in front of you a mangled piece of plastic and the object of your desire, freed from the bonds of the clamshell. You look at your freed item and somehow it feels more valuable from the work you just put in. And you exclaim, “finally!”
I love the teachings of Joyce Meyer primarily because this taming of our minds is her primary teaching focus when it comes to following God’s Word. One of her devotional days says,
“Nobody is successful with any venture just by wishing they would be. Successful people make a plan and talk to themselves about that plan constantly.”
Joyce Meyer, Trusting God Day by Day
This is based on 2 Cor 10:5: “We capture their rebellious thoughts and teach them to obey God.” When we keep our mind in the present and decide what goes on up in our thick skull we are miles ahead toward achieving that gift of peace.
I know a lot people who spend most of their time on the wall of the hurricane instead of the eye. They’re the “Chicken Littles” and the “Debbie Downers” and the “Joy Suckers.” I’m familiar with all of them as I perfected each of them at one time or another. Until I accepted Jesus. I surrendered to trusting the goodness of God. When I am facing tough situations I FIRST turn to God to pump a little extra peace into me. For a long time, I assumed that long-time Christians all had this peace. One friend I spoke to at the beginning of the COVID 19 scare, who has been a Christian much longer than I, was distraught. He said he just couldn’t see God at work anywhere. I told him he sounded like the ship being tossed to and fro. And that without trust in God he wouldn’t find peace. He stopped talking. He realized he had stepped out of God’s eye and into the storm.
I read this story as part of a sermon by Max Lucado on “Peace that defies pain.”
“I have everything I need for joy!” Robert Reed said. “Amazing!” I thought.
His hands are twisted and his feet are useless. He can’t bathe himself. He can’t feed himself. He can’t brush his teeth, comb his hair, or put on his underwear. His shirts are held together by strips of Velcro®. His speech drags like a worn-out audio cassette.
Robert has cerebral palsy.
The disease keeps him from driving a car, riding a bike, and going for a walk. But it didn’t keep him from graduating from high school or attending Abilene Christian University, from which he graduated with a degree in Latin. Having cerebral palsy didn’t keep him from teaching at a St. Louis junior college or from venturing overseas on five mission trips.
And Robert’s disease didn’t prevent him from becoming a missionary in Portugal. He moved to Lisbon, alone, in 1972. There he rented a hotel room and began studying Portuguese. He found a restaurant owner who would feed him after the rush hour and a tutor who would instruct him in the language.
Then he stationed himself daily in a park, where he distributed brochures about Christ. Within six years he led seventy people to the Lord, one of whom became his wife, Rosa.
I heard Robert speak recently. I watched other men carry him in his wheelchair onto the platform. I watched them lay a Bible in his lap. I watched his stiff fingers force open the pages. And I watched people in the audience wipe away tears of admiration from their faces. Robert could have asked for sympathy or pity, but he did just the opposite. He held his bent hand up in the air and boasted, “I have everything I need for joy.”
His shirts are held together by Velcro®, but his life is held together by joy.”
I praise God, the Prince of Peace, the Giver of Joy, the Giver of Shaloha, as many on the beautifully peaceful island of Kauai like to say. I thank Him for helping me be steadfast in surrendering to Him so that I might live each moment in the eye rather than the walls of the storm.
