Leaving Your Boat Behind

27 “But immediately Jesus spoke to them, saying, 

“Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.”

28 And Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” 29 He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus.”

Matthew 14:27-29, (context, vv. 22-33)

 

Jesus is full of surprises! You can never guess the things He will do next. He is Lord after all. To walk on water is totally impossible. But Jesus does it. He walks on it as if it were a concrete sidewalk. When they see Him they freak out. They couldn’t believe their eyes.

Jesus wants to reveal to His disciples His true nature.

They had just seen Him multiply fish and loaves, He fed five thousand plus just a few hours ago. Wasn’t that a miracle enough? It seems that Jesus doesn’t think so.

For some inexplicable reason, Peter wants to insert himself into Jesus’ miracle. Oddly, he has decided he’ll join Jesus, and leave behind the security of the boat–for the insecurity of the impossible! He truly believes that Jesus can hold him up somehow. Perhaps this alone is the most amazing part of this passage. Can a man duplicate the walk of Jesus? Can we walk like Him?

Peter really wants to leave the security of the boat, for the insecurity of the impossible.

It seems to me that we’re constantly doing the “Peter thing.” It’s true our walk of faith really is intensely supernatural, and yet we somehow forget this. And face it, we’ll never generate the “fruits of the Holy Spirit” on our own. Our most sincere efforts will never turn water into something solid.

We will never walk the disciple’s path without faith in the Master who calls us to come to Him.

I think Jesus wants us to join Him. Our faith in Him is the key. We believe that we can walk with Him, we believe we will see the impossible. Without question it’s Jesus’ power that holds us up. Our faith in Him is the ignition point in all of this. Our mustard seed faith, combined with Jesus’ power. becomes the true walk of the disciple.

We must bravely launch ourselves into the purposes of God. Jump when God puts opportunity in your path.

To merely sit in the boat is hardly faith. When Peter steps over the gunwales, he steps into the world of the amazing. The water holds him, and his trust in Jesus solidifies like the water he walks on. He is now doing the impossible. He’s now becoming very much like Jesus.

Our walk seems terribly weak at times, we can easily list our sin and weaknesses. We’re not quite convinced that the blood of Jesus covers all our sin–and therefore we can’t step out of the boat. I think it’s Peter’s faith in Jesus’ power that holds him up.

When his faith falters, he does the “rock thing,” There is something about his circumstances–the wind, and the waves that begin to frighten him. (But I must believe Jesus was pleased.)

To really understand, to obey Jesus is to step out of our boat in faith; it’s then we’ll start to see miracles happen.

But, it’s His decision. 😁

“Christ will always accept the faith that puts its trust in Him.”

–Andrew Murray

   

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Her Weak Eyes

Stuck in the wonders of scripture we read about Leah and her sister Rachel. We see the two daughters of Laban have become Jacob’s wives. We must step into Genesis 29 to see more.

Jacob longs for Rachel. She is his “soul mate” and because he’s in love, the customs and technicalities of the day somehow get by him. Because of this, he will have to take on Laban’s subtle trickery, where daughters get exchanged, and we must sort out who is who.

Laban’s deception creates a huge crisis for everyone. 

But it seems Jacob just rolls with it. I suppose deception has always been Jacob’s strong suit. (But when we see a deceiver like Jacob gets deceived, that can’t be all bad).

But it’s Leah that I tend to think about. Her own issues are unique. Genesis 29 explains it a bit cryptically,

“Leah’s eyes were weak, but Rachel was beautiful in form and appearance.” 

Genesis 29:17

You must know that there is confusion by commentators about the “weak eyes.” Some take it literally (as in, she is very “near-sighted,”) while others who look at the original Hebrew find the words to be a bit looser and vague. They tend to think that this is a polite way of saying she really wasn’t pretty.

The text also states that Leah was “hated.”

Genesis 29:30-31.

She is wounded, and life requires that she live as unwanted. She is a woman of tragedy and broken hopes and dreams. She will always live as a reject. At best, she will always be a distant second, and always a bit scorned and neglected for this.

I must conclude that Leah is the champion for the challenged.

I love Leah and I think I understand her. Her life is a long tragedy and very full of sadness. For the next 30-40 years she will always be a cast-off, someone who has been broken on life’s bitter vagaries. She’s a fellow struggler, and a survivor.

Her sad life is comparable to us who have to fight so hard over our own illness or handicaps.

She must’ve been challenged by her terrible weakness. I understand this. My own life has been “topsy-turvy” and a really hard struggle. Somehow it seems we must work through these things way too much.

It doesn’t seem fair. 

For those of you who are confined to a wheelchair, or must use a cane, or who deal with a physical or mental illness. Leah should be our hero. For those who have been betrayed by addiction, or who have felt rejected through a bitter divorce– Leah speaks to us.

She is for every loser and for failures of all stripes. But through all of our setbacks and messes, we must realize that God does love us– even as we weep.

We may have Leah’s eyes, but we can also have His grace.

Psalm 139:14

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When Pain is All You Can Think About

Sometimes we live in darkness. We suffer and it’s hard. We mentally accept God’s grace and His love for us, but in our heart we remain untouched. Pain saturates everything it seems. We seem to go through the motions, but deep down we’re convinced that we’ll never find the light that so many claim to have.

Since I have a disability I realize I learn things others won’t grasp. I’m learning to embrace the waves that push me to the rock–the Rock of ages. I suppose when I meet Him I’ll understand why it had to be so.

My hope is real. Heaven is home. My pain will be healed.

There is a language of heaven spoken, and those who have suffered speak a dialect of that. Just as someone from Georgia communicates English, their dialect is obvious. The same for those who live in pain. We speak the same, but differently.

Pain sometimes saturates our lives.

We live with something that is persistent, and our hope is a day when it’s all over. Psalm 88 becomes our Psalm. Nothing here is sugar-coated. It is raw and unabridged. It puts our pain under a microscope. That Psalm is entirely yours.

Psalm 88:3-4

Charles Spurgeon

Our Miracle in Mexico

What happened was nothing less than a miracle. Let me explain and let you be the judge. Over the years of ministry I’ve heard the Lord speak clearly at different times. He has this tendency to overcome confusion and doubt to make His will super clear.

In 1995 we were sent by our church to Mexico to assist a church/mission station. We would be their first missionaries in Baja California. We knew we were called, and we also understood that it would definitely be challenging (and it was). We made a three year commitment.

We took Spanish at King’s Way Missionary Institute in McAllen, Texas. It was there we met another couple who would be working 40 miles south of where we were going. We agreed that once school was done we would travel together.

Now this is where it gets interesting.

We left south Texas and convoyed to San Diego. When we hit New Mexico the heat got terrible and my car didn’t have AC. The couple we were travelling with was pulling a trailer and couldn’t travel over 45 mph. It was over 100 F., I remember looking at our kids in the backseat and they were sprawled out, they were on the verge of heat stroke.

Now please bear with me.

Then something quite amazing happened!

There are several lanes available at the border crossing–they’re always backed up with 20 cars in each lane. So I pulled into one waiting for my turn to be inspected. Suddenly I heard honking behind me. I looked in my rear view to see what the deal was. It was our friends we had left back in New Mexico. They were in the car directly behind me!

My brain immediately started to calculate the odds.

It was then I heard Him speak to me.

Our three years were very difficult. We lived in a very old and very small “burned out” trailer, with no electricity or running water. We had a 55 gallon drum that was filled occasionally by a water truck. We had to boil it to kill the mosquito larva.

I killed rattlesnakes and battled with black widow spiders, and hundreds of tarantulas that wanted to nest on the property.

To know that God was taking care of us, had led us, and was using us was comforting. When things got very hard that experience at the border would comfort us repeatedly. It gave us confidence in His purposes for us being there. He put us there, and would not leave us.

When we left Mexico I was a little bit discouraged. “Where is the fruit?” About 6 months after returning to the Bay Area, I was in church when one of the elders came up to inform me that one of the leaders in our Mexico church had named their newborn son after me–Bryan Allen Rodriquez!

That news staggered me, it was like a 2×4 up the side of my head. They saw our steadfastness and wanted to name their son after me. That pretty much undid me. I admit that since then, I’ve struggled with this. I guess you can never fully understand your impact on others.

Psalm 40:5, ESV

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The Parable of the Unmerciful

God is generous. We owe him an outrageous kind of debt. But what happens when we refuse to forgive another person? Jesus now teaches what happens–it’s frightening.

Matthew 18:22-34

God is generous. All that he does is grace. It’s also grace when we really meet another. He loves us, and we need to siphon that love to everyone we meet. When we come before the Lord, we don’t get the justice we deserve. He has forgiven us—the ten thousand ones.

God is generous. We owe him an outrageous kind of debt. Commentators list the modern value of 10,000 talents would be $1 billion USD. Granted this is figurative, but that doesn’t mean it’s untrue. Grace is God’s extravagant for scandalous sinners.

That is an insane amount of money. To settle our debt would far, far more than we can repay; but isn’t that the point. God’s grace on us, is a precious thing.

When he gets off his knees, we realize that he really hasn’t changed by grace. His heart is teflon, and the mercy the father gave him doesn’t stick. His heart hasn’t really grasped his lesson in forgiveness. God forgave, the servant didn’t understand. His treatment of another proclaims this.

The parable directly speaks of grace, and ungrace.

The $10,000 guy meets the $100 talent guy and we see our own inability to forgive. We shake down our brother and sister for just small things. Notice verse 28, the text tells us that he actually assaulted him, “he started to choke him.” How bizarre and how disturbing. And yet, God sees, and responds.

Was the $10,000 guy really forgiven? Did he understand the spiritual transaction of what just happened? I don’t think so—and it scares me.

The other servants have seen the issue.

The key word is “distressed,” or lypeō in Greek, the word means “to throw into sorrow, to grieve or offend., to make heavy.” All that the forgiven servant did, was recognizable by others, and they reported what they saw to the master.

His behavior is clearly meant to disturbs us.

He’s called “wicked” in verse 32. What he did was awful, and again he’s brought in. Because of his mistreatment of the other who owed, he was now thrown into prison, owing a billion bucks. He gets what he now deserves. He gets justice instead of mercy. He is turned over the torturers.

Matthew 6:15

What does all of this mean?

I’m pretty sure that God isn’t hammering us over our unforgiveness of others. I suspect it’s our sin that does that. When we consider our sin, how can we understand others who sin against us? We have been forgiven much (very much!) how can we not forgive others for sinning against us?

J. Meyer

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Have You Learned to Rest Yet?

Life can get out of hand sometimes, becoming hectic and frantic. It seems like we’ve got 1000 ‘irons in the fire.’ The anxiety of doing everything creates fear and worry. We cannot possibly keep up. There isn’t enough hours in the day.

We are not at rest with ourselves, or with the Lord.

And oh my, the news, the internet, and our cell phones create awful issues if we can’t manage them with the Holy Spirit’s direction and purposes. Our computers seem like a pipeline for darkness. Unless they’re “given” to God, they can destroy you.

What causes me anxiety? I’m quite sure you can add your own issues. But here’s a partial list:

  • ambition, self-promotion, pride, jockeying for position
  • family issues, marriage and children
  • my job and career, “keeping up with the Joneses”
  • religious ‘duties’
  • finances, bills
  • politics, media
  • unrepented sin, separation from God, peace is missing

But I assure you, there is rest.

The Old Testament uses a word, נוח or ‘nuach.’ It’s a Hebrew word. Both Moses and Jesus understood the implications. It means calming, to become quiet or still. To rest quietly.

This promise is given to Moses; frankly, he’s overwhelmed by his burden. In the “tent of the meeting” he battles with God, and it’s in that place Moses insists on the Lord’s active presence on him and on the people. He will not take another step unless God does this.

The Lord Jesus calls each of us to rest in Him. It seems we work hard and we carry awful heavy burdens. Jesus uses the word, “Come” which is typically a command or an imperative. (It can be used with an explanation mark!)

Jesus understands our hearts and our effort and “labor.” He fully grasps that we’re “heavy laden” much of the time. His invitation is to come and find the peace of a resting disciple. It is His gift to us, and only Jesus can give it to us.

 “‘Come’; he drives none away; he calls them to himself. His favorite word is ‘Come.’ Not, go to Moses – ‘Come unto me.’ To Jesus himself we must come, by a personal trust. Not to doctrine, ordinance, nor ministry are we to come first; but to the personal Saviour.”

CH Spurgeon

Anavah, (or Humility)

       Charles Spurgeon

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;
    my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
    too great and too marvelous for me.
2 But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
    like a weaned child with its mother;
    like a weaned child is my soul within me.

Psalm 131:1-2, ESV

To be humble [Hebrew, anavah] means that we recognize our boundaries. We will not advance by stepping beyond what God has ordained for us. We learn to be content with the present. Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less. It puts others first.

In Psalm 131 we begin the walk into “anavah.” We’re brought by God into a place where we understand who we really are. Our lives are not characterized by self-promotion, but rather serving God and advancing others before ourselves.

The image is one of being a weaned child resting on a mother’s chest. We have no agenda, there is nothing that we must do, but just relax on Him.

Seeing a weaned baby is one who no longer needs its mother’s milk. There’s no fussing or grasping for nourishment, rather he’s simply content to rest in his mother’s warm embrace.

To practice true humility, or the Hebrew word “anavah,” it is to renounce ambition in all its insidious forms. As Jesus’ disciples we follow Him with our cross. That cross puts the end of our old life. And we die daily. And it is obvious to all.

“And since I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash each other’s feet.  I have given you an example to follow. Do as I have done to you.”

John 13:14-16

Andrew Murray

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Two Measly Pennies

Mark 12:41-44

“And he sat down opposite the treasury and watched the people putting money into the offering box. Many rich people put in large sums. 42 And a poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which make a penny. 43 And he called his disciples to him and said to them, “Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. 44 For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

It wasn’t much but it’s all I had. Some would laugh, most would scorn–but truthfully, I really wasn’t giving my money, I was giving my heart. That’s all I had.

When my husband died, I was left with very little. What I did have I hid in a hole in the wall, but I was concerned, money was going out and nothing was coming in. Often I sat on my stool and stared at that hole, and often I was frightened. There is nothing to live on. What was I going to do?

Please understand. No one was going to help me.

I got up one morning to pull out the leather sack, all that was there were two pennies. That’s it. Two very small pennies, and that’s all I had to live on! I knew that this day would come, but it seemed to come so soon. I was afraid of what life was going to bring next.

————————–

Jesus sat watching the crowd in the Temple with the twelve. Occasionally there was a procession: trumpets blowing and bright banners waving. Another rich man announced to everyone that he was coming to contribute to the Temple. There were six stone receptacles placed in strategic spots, where people could tithe as the Law required of every Jew.

Jesus was watching all of this.

Suddenly an old woman came to give, and there were no trumpets, no fanfare. She simply came to give what she had–two very small copper pennies. Just two pennies. Most would laugh I suppose. After all, the rich were dropping in thousands of silver.

It was funny, but Jesus turned to His disciples. They sat and listened carefully to what He had to say:

“Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box.” 

They gasped as they struggled to understand the Teacher. It seemed idiotic, but Jesus often said many outrageous things. You could see their minds working to grip this. It made absolutely zero sense.

“For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

The twelve were dumbfounded. (Again.)

———————-

When I gave, I gave my heart. I now had nothing, but a strange peace came over me. I rejoiced to do this, to give to God and His work. Yes, I now had nothing–nothing but the grace and care of God. Maybe I was a fool. Maybe I was mad. But I knew what I wanted to do. When I threw in my two pennies, I threw myself into the heart and care of God.

What was going to happen next? I really don’t know, but God is good. I will trust my Father.

“Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. 33 Sell your possessions, and give to the needy. Provide yourselves with moneybags that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys. 34 For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”

Luke 12:33

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Art: Coin Week; verses used are from the ESV.

Breaking Down the Door

Luke 11:5-8

This parable is known by some as “the Importunate Neighbor.” That’s an excellent description. Importunate is defined as being persistent, especially to the point of annoyance or intrusion. It’s tenacious and stubborn–not giving up even when being ignored, and that describes what’s happening here.

What immediately proceeds this parable is Luke’s version of the Lord’s prayer, which the disciples requested. They wanted to understand the methods and mechanics of praying–perhaps the Pharisee’s prayers weren’t quite up to snuff–they wanted more; and they insisted that Jesus instruct them.

The disciples wanted to do prayer right.

A typical Jewish home had sleeping quarters (one room!) located on a raised platform. A ladder was used to access that level (which could be crowded, sometimes two to a bed.) Often their livestock were brought inside. And when it was time to get up, everyone got up. That explains the homeowner’s reluctance to give bread to his neighbor. To get up, light a lamp, wasn’t a solitary affair.

He’s obviously unenthusiastic to make that effort.

The word used here to explain the neighbor actions is ἀναίδεια “anaídeia,” which is only used once–it’s translated as impudence, shamelessness, audacity or chutzpah. It’s a Greek word that explains the knocker’s rudeness. He won’t stop. He knocks and pounds until he gets his bread. Not having bread for his guests is unheard of, for it violates all kinds of convention.

The unwritten law of Jewish hospitality demanded action. 

This is part of Jesus’ view on prayer. It means we must be inappropriate sometimes–even to the point were we are being rude.

Immediately following this parable (the very next thought) are the following instructions:

“So I say to you, ask, and it will be given to you. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened to you. 10 For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.”

Luke 11:9-10

Perhaps it’s a matter of forcefulness?

We “pray” but don’t insist. We desire but don’t demand. Maybe it takes a certain shamelessness to make prayer work. Jesus emphasizes a necessary attitude to praying God’s way. It’s never automatic, but in this parable we see words that move the Father’s heart, and loosen his hand. In Jesus’ teaching, prayer means effort.

It means spiritual work. He wants us to know this. It is important.

“There is neither encouragement nor room in Bible religion for feeble desires, listless efforts, lazy attitudes; all must be strenuous, urgent, ardent. Flamed desires, impassioned, unwearied insistence delight heaven. God would have His children incorrigibly in earnest and persistently bold in their efforts. Our whole being must be in our praying.”

    E.M. Bounds

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The Thief on the Cross Speaks

Luke 23:39-43

“One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” 40 But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? 41 And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.” 

42 “And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” 43 And he said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

The pain was incredible, but I know that deep down I deserved to die. But not like this. Never like this. I was almost out of my mind with fear. What they were doing to me was terrifying.

You must understand that I was a common thief. I had stolen a loaf of bread when I was eight years old and that’s how it all got started for me. It more or else got bigger and easier. I knew how to steal and I was quite good at it. I was Jacob, the master thief!

When I was finally caught, they sentenced me to die. I supposed it was inevitable. I fault no one but myself as I knew what I was getting into. As I dragged my beam up to Golgotha, it was really strange but I suddenly remembered a verse from the scripture and it really did unsettle me.

(Gal. 3:13, ESV)

It’s a terrible thing to die this way. There were three of us, nailed to the wood and lifted up between heaven and earth. Jesus was nailed to the middle cross, not that it really mattered; all three of us were going to die today.

Many hope for an easy death, maybe in their sleep–but that’s not going to happen to us.

The third man could only mock, he was afraid, and I suppose he just echoed those Pharisees who didn’t really understand. But I knew better. I knew who this other man was, I had heard all the stories. Deep down I knew that this man on the center cross was the Messiah.

A crowd had gathered to watch us die. The Romans in their wonderful ingenuity had made a sign that they nailed above Jesus’ head, and it declared to everyone that Jesus was “the king of the Jews.” Even as he was dying, they found a way to malign him and irritate the crowd.

The other man being crucified continued to mock Jesus, and it infuriated me.

Why I defended him I don’t know for sure.

But I understood. Jesus was murdered out of the envy and jealousy of the Pharisees. He didn’t deserve to die like this, but He was hated, and who can confront these religious men without becoming a victim. Jesus had repeatedly crossed the line, so now they were now putting him to death. It seemed evil was really winning today.

I saw the soldiers throwing dice for Jesus’ clothes. He was now being mocked by them as well, even as He was dying on a brutal cross.

But all of a sudden it all made perfect sense.

He really was the Messiah, and these bastards were killing him. Crucifixion was starting to work on me now. I began to choke on my words, and it was getting hard to breathe.

“Jesus… please remember me. When your kingdom comes, please let me be a part of it.”

And as beaten as He was, He managed to turn and look directly at me. They had whipped and brutalized Him, and yet He was still aware. His words were whispered now, but I understood. “I promise that today you will be with me in paradise.”

I was starting to spasm again.

But the horror of death had left me. Some time had passed, and I could hear his breathing stop. But for the first time, I had peace. They used a spear on Jesus, but he was already dead.

The soldiers now came to the two of us, and they were carrying an ax to break our legs. It all had to do with the coming festival, and the Pharisees wanted us dead. When they swung that ax I knew a pain that I could never describe. My own death came quickly after that.

I was suddenly standing in paradise, whole and complete, and loved.

Someone was standing before me. He was shining, and I knew he was powerful; stronger, and He was more glorious than anyone I had ever met. It was crazy but somehow I knew that it was the Lord Jesus. He had come to meet me. It’s funny, but I realized that somehow I really did belong. Me–a dirty rotten thief.

Jesus had promised me, pronouncing me righteous, me of all people. I suddenly had a joy that I could never explain. I really was a part of the Kingdom that was beyond anything I had ever known. I believed him and asked if somehow I could be part of his eternal rule.

I simply asked and He gave me everything.

“I am going to heaven just like the thief on the cross who said in that final last moment: “Lord remember me.”

Billy Graham

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Cover Art: “Christ on the Cross between Two Thieves,” by Peter Paul Rubens