Nothing taken for granted; everything received with gratitude; everything passed on with grace. You say grace before meals. All right. But I say grace before the concert and the opera, and grace before the play and pantomime, and grace before I open a book, and grace before sketching, painting, swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing and grace before I dip the pen in the ink. I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought; and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.
I’ve been reading G.K. Chesterton recently, and this quote from him sums up the essence of thankfulness pretty well. Gratitude is worship, perhaps the highest form of worship we have. In that way, all of life can become an act of worship and a song of praise to the One who made it all, and gave all for us.
...the Creed's opening words, "I believe in God," render a Greek phrase coined by the writers of the New Testament, meaning literally: "I am believing into God." That is to say, over and above believing certain truths about God, I am living in a relation of commitment to God in trust and union.
This is a brief quote from J. I. Packer’s fantastic book “Affirming the Apostle’s Creed”. I’ve been meditating on this idea and thought it worth a share.
“believing into God”. I like that because it forces the idea of belief beyond simple intellectual agreement and into having unity and relationship with God. It mixes understanding with faith in a way that joins us to God instead of puffing us up with pride (distancing us from God).
The Christian faith teaches us that we are all broken beyond repair. Despite the fact that many of us can manage to appear unbroken on the outside, if we are honest we will admit that there is something inside of us that needs fixing. This is the grand façade. It is the mask constructed of our feeble attempts to be good when we know that our goodness only goes so deep.
We are fascinated by public leaders and politicians that seem “good” but given the right circumstances, pressures, and temptations the façade crumbles and brokenness is revealed lurking there just beneath the surface. With hand to mouth we gasp in shock at their behavior, but on a deep, secret level we are afraid that something of what has bitten them has also bitten us.
I’m reading Eugene Perterson’s memoir “The Pastor” (Get it on Amazon.com). Eugene Peterson is at times a controversial man. He is best known for writing “The Message” version of the Bible, but has also written several other books. Before all of that, however, he was just a pastor. In fact, he was planting churches long before it was cool to do so.
I at times disagree with him, especially in regards to the books and authors he often endorses. It’s a shame that many pastors I know would never consider reading this book because of those disagreements. I think he’s worth listening to. His memoir has been like a cool drink of water on a hot day for me. Amid the barrage of all the “get-stuff-done” pastor books in which I often drown, this book has been a life preserver tossed at just the right moment.
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I used this video in a recent sermon on the covenant love of God. One of the great examples of this is found in the prophetic marriage between Hosea and Gomer.
What I find challenging about Hosea is that clearly we are Hosea’s wife. We are the unfaithful spouse. Yet, with our dagger of betrayal still in His heart, He loves us and asks us to stay.
Micah 7:18-20 works well as our response:
[18] Who is a God like you, pardoning iniquity and passing over transgression for the remnant of his inheritance? He does not retain his anger forever, because he delights in steadfast love. [19] He will again have compassion on us; he will tread our iniquities underfoot. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea. [20] You will show faithfulness to Jacob and steadfast love to Abraham, as you have sworn to our fathers from the days of old.
What sort of God is this that is faithful even when His faithfulness is met with betrayal? And don’t we severely violate this love when we refuse to love others with this kind of reckless forgiveness?
This is taken from A.W. Tozer’s book, The Attributes of God. This is so powerfully written, I thought it worth sharing.
“When Leonardo DaVinci painted his famous Last Supper he had little difficulty with any of it except the faces. Then he painted the faces in without too much trouble except one. He did not feel himself worthy to paint the face of Jesus. He held off and kept holding off, unwilling to approach it but knowing he must. Then in the impulsive carelessness of despair, he just painted it quickly and let it go. “There is no use,” he said. “I can’t paint Him.” I feel very much the same way about explaining the holiness of God. I think that same sense of despair is on my heart. There isn’t any use for anybody to try to explain holiness. The greatest speakers on this subject can play their oratorical harps, but it sounds tinny and unreal, and when they are through you’ve listened to music but you haven’t seen God.”
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I have recently discovered David Eugene Edwards’ music. He first came on the scene with his band 16 Horsepower. They disbanded several years ago, but David continued on with a new band called Wovenhand. Wovenhand is noteably different in style than 16 Horsepower, but still has that David Eugene Edwards vibe. All of it is great music, in my opinion.
What initially drew me to his music is that I was fascinated that these are unfiltered Godward lyrics that the Christian music industry cannot find a place for, yet the non-religious world embraces it. How is it that this musician (whom I had never even heard of) is touching these people? The music is excellent, and certainly that is a big part of the attraction by his secular audience. But I think it’s more than that.
