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.
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.”

Andrew Murray

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The Pharisee & the Tax Collector

Luke 18:10-14

 “Two men went to the Temple to pray. One was a proud, self-righteous Pharisee, and the other a cheating tax collector. 11 The proud Pharisee ‘prayed’ this prayer: ‘Thank God, I am not a sinner like everyone else, especially like that tax collector over there! For I never cheat, I don’t commit adultery, 12 I go without food twice a week, and I give to God a tenth of everything I earn.’

13 “But the corrupt tax collector stood at a distance and dared not even lift his eyes to heaven as he prayed, but beat upon his chest in sorrow, exclaiming, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner.’ 14 I tell you, this sinner, not the Pharisee, returned home forgiven! For the proud shall be humbled, but the humble shall be honored.”

Meet the Pharisee:

I had it all together. I had shaped myself to be the ultimate Pharisee–the Pharisees of the Pharisees. I understood the Law; I could quote whole books, forward and backward. I fasted twice a week, and tithed everything, right down to my herbs and spices. I had it all together.

And I made sure everyone saw my commitment.

I strenuously kept God’s Law. I was consumed by understanding it, I tried to grasp all its nuances and complexity. The 10 commandments were emblazoned on all that I did. I wanted everyone to know that I was one of “the pure ones,” for that was the meaning behind the word Pharisee. I knew that I was pure.

I went to the Temple every day to pray, I stood holy and set apart, standing before a real and holy God. I was always the truest example to the people of Israel. I always stood when I prayed, for I was completely committed to doing all that the Law demanded of me.

One day I saw a wicked man in God’s holy temple. I had to thank God that we were total opposites. He was a tax collector and an evil person. I really was nothing like him. I rejoiced that I had become a true example of a righteous man.

I knew I was righteous, and certainly not at all like that sinful tax collector.

———————-

Meet the Tax Collector:

I didn’t have it all together. I understood this and was horrified that I had become so evil. I came to the Temple, driven by my guilt and shame–no one had to tell me this, for I knew my sin and I was deeply ashamed.

Why I came, I don’t know. I honestly didn’t belong here, and I kept a distance from the front. I guess that’s where I belonged. On the fringes before the Holy One. It seemed now that I was drawn to this place, and I’m still not sure why I came that day.

I knew that I breathed evil and had become evil.

I fell to my knees, and I begged God to forgive me. I saw the Pharisee standing in the presence of God, but I knew I wasn’t at all like him. He was righteous and I knew I was not. Oh, how I wanted God to forgive me for all the sins I had committed.

I must tell you that my spirit was in agony.

“Humble men are very fortunate!” he told them, “for the Kingdom of Heaven is given to them. Those who mourn are fortunate! for they shall be comforted. The meek and lowly are fortunate! for the whole wide world belongs to them.

Matthew 5:3-5, LB

Jesus clearly told us who was truly forgiven that day. When we think we have it all together, we’re deceiving ourselves.

Let’s not pretend otherwise, okay.

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Art: Eugene Burnand, 1850-1924, litho; Scripture used here is from the Living Bible.

The Forbidden First Stone

“They kept demanding an answer, so he stood up again and said, “All right, but let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone!”

(John 8:7, NLT)

“None knows the weight of another’s burden.”

-George Herbert

As believers, we must discern motives and false doctrine. We’re to be constantly aware of people and issues that swirl around us–of this, there is no doubt, we mustn’t be ignorant. This is a healthy “discernment.” But we must learn that having discernment isn’t a way that passes out a ‘guilty’ penalty. We are ‘seeing’ things these things–not to pass judgment, but that we might pray clearly and earnestly, and grow into His love for the weak.

But to pass out a guilty sentence is God’s exclusive jurisdiction.

It’s far beyond our ‘pay grade.’ He is the final judge in everything. He judges justly and lovingly. He alone knows and understands everything very clearly. We don’t.

And yet how foolish we are. Do we really have the ability to pronounce a penalty to someone else? Could it be when we decide to throw rocks at certain people we’re in terrible danger of forfeiting our own salvation? “But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” (Matt. 6:15.)

We discern, not to pass judgment, but to pray more clearly and effectively. What you see or sense is for the prayer closet, not before a judge’s bench.

(If you have a ‘rock’ in your hand, you are in definite danger.)

“Don’t judge others, or you will be judged. You will be judged in the same way that you judge others, and the amount you give to others will be given to you.

We really don’t have a problem with worldly people. We understand that they are lost in their sins, terribly wrapped up in their own personal darkness, and that should definitely disturb us. We must point to the Blood of Christ that forgives us. We share the good news of true repentance and faith. His Spirit teaches us to be witnesses of His love to everyone we meet.

But in light of this, isn’t strange that almost all of our judgment is somehow directed at other believers! Why?! For some strange reason, it ‘seems,’ we think that we must pronounce guilt and (by doing so) we declare our own “holy” attitude to our place in the Body. In a weird sense, we think we have the supreme calling to condemn someone else’ walk, and by doing so exalt our own!

“The life of faith is a struggle enough in a broken world without us complicating it for other believers.”

–Jake Colsen

It just may come as a shock to some, but it’s extremely difficult to throw stones at someone when we are busy “washing” their feet.

“The nature and end of judgment or sentence must be corrective, never vindictive; it is always for healing, and never for destruction.”

–John Owen

Perhaps when we judge others, we reveal that we don’t understand what ‘real’ discipleship with Jesus is? Somehow it seems, we really aren’t quite grasping the immensity of His grace on guilty people? Do we really understand His profound love for the fallen? “God so loved the World…” Have we had any idea how patient He is with us? Do we doubt His ability to correct others? (These are awfully hard questions.)

“Judge not lest you be judged.” (Jesus’ words really do scare me sometimes.)

Certainly, I intend to confront the darkness. “You are the light, a city set on a hill!” I am His salt and light and I do shine into this dark night. But that is His doing, not mine. I do not generate light on my own. The Bible declares me as ‘self-righteous’ when I try. I am a broken person, who is just starting to understand the scope of my own brokenness and weaknesses. I’m starting to realize I’m not in a position to judge someone else. I’m not quite healed myself yet and I must not think I can point to someone else as being worse than me.

Quite simply, I can’t throw ‘rocks’ at other believers anymore.

I can no longer pass out any condemnation from my own limited understanding. My chief concern right now is to be a humble, earnest Christian who is always ready to forgive those who, in their awful sin and confusion, are hurting others. I’m beginning to see that my calling is to be; a simple servant to my brothers and sisters, nothing more, and nothing less.

Serving God at Night


A song for going up to worship.

“Behold, bless ye the Lord, all ye servants of the Lord, who by night stand in the house of the Lord.

Lift up your hands in the sanctuary, and bless the Lord!

The Lord who made heaven and earth bless thee out of Zion!”

Psalm 134

This remarkable Psalm is part of an elite group known as “the Psalms of Ascent.” There are 15 Psalms (120-134) sung as the congregation of Israel went up the steps of the temple in Jerusalem. They would sing each in “rounds” with each other.

As you can well imagine, this made the ascent slow, but meaningful. As you read the three verses of 134, I get a picture of worshipers turning back and blessing the Levites. This takes place at the very end of the day. The Levites, and other godly ones who lived in the Temple, (remember Anna and Simeon, in Luke 2?)

They were the support staff for the priests.

I have some general thoughts about this Psalm:

V.1, “Behold, bless ye the Lord, all ye servants of the Lord, who by night stand in the house of the Lord.”

The first significant thought is “Lord” mentioned three times. The word is the recognition of someone’s status and standing. We call Him Lord, because He is that (and more). The second has to deal with the Levitical “night shift.”

They served and guarded the Temple during the wee hours of the night.

They probably cleaned, stacked wood, sharpened knives and maintained the Holy Place with its needs. There was no real glory working the night shift. There were no people to serve. The crowds were for the day shift. (Here’s a weird thought– think “Disneyland at 2:00 a.m.”) There was also a contingent of non-Levite people ministering to the Lord as well. They had no duties, and only the priests could serve through their work.

The Levites working at night were not ‘second best.’ At least, not in the eyes of the Holy Spirit. They were integral in both presence and service to the Lord. To despise them is to reveal one’s ignorance. They definitely mattered.

V. 2 “Lift up your hands in the sanctuary, and bless the Lord!

I’ve worked nights before. It’s a real adjustment. You never feel like you’ve had enough sleep, and it is really hard to be positive and cheerful.  I could get pretty grouchy at times. But an exhortation is given, a shout and a blessing as the crowds leave. “Raise up your hands– and praise Him!” It is as the work, although necessary, would be secondary. The worship however, was primary. We need to hear that.

Each of these three verses of this Psalm contain the word “blessing!”

V. 3, “The Lord who made heaven and earth bless thee out of Zion!”

To be blessed (literally, made “lucky”) by our Creator and Lord is pretty profound. As a kid who read a lot, I think of ‘fairy dust.’ I know better now, but to be blessed by God is deeply significant. To summarize, I believe this Psalm is speaking of those in the church who are doing “hidden service.” No one sees them really.

They go about there duties quietly, and purposefully. The only recognition is from God– who sees all. I must encourage you to keep on. There are many more than you think who see your hidden ministry to the Father. You are His ‘night shift.’ You’re seen by few, but Him. He knows what you do.

“There are many of us that are willing to do great things for the Lord, but few of us are willing to do little things.”

     D.L. Moody

Only His Fire

Isaiah 33:14

Perhaps we can become too casual in our intimacy with God? Becoming close is obviously needed, but it must be done with certain precautions. (Bear with me as I try to explain.)

He asks for us to see Him with an awareness of His holiness. It’s important to Him, and it is vital for us. We must honor Him as the One who is supremely holy. But seeing that we can walk with God in a new way.

Hebrews 12:29, ESV

The closer we come, the more significant our response. I believe the Holy Spirit carefully monitors us to see what we will do after we confront the reality of Him. He insists that we should honor Him as ‘holy.’ He passionately desires and requests that we do what is appropriate and honorable as we meet Him.

Giving Jesus honor is critical to all we say or do.

It should be the first thought of every man or woman who presses in to know Him. Honoring Him as holy is not regarded as an option to be debated or brought out for consideration. It is essential to follow Him faithfully.

He is like a tiger whom we have grabbed by the tail, we have but a few options. One is to release our hold and face the consequences. The second is too hold on to Him with all our strength. He loves those who make the second choice. Grab hold of the Lord Jesus, and hang on for dear life!

He is dangerous, but in a good way. Intimacy is important, but so is having a healthy fear of Him.

We should anticipate Him coming and disrupting our Sunday services. Perhaps we need our ushers to hand-out ropes and life-jackets before the service starts? We should expect Him to explode in our congregations in a whirlwind of holy love. He wants us to anticipate His presence.

In Isaiah 33:14 there is something that is needful and mandatory for us to understand about our Father. Often we’ll discover that entering and abiding in His presence requires us to honor His holiness. When we do so, we find we will trigger a response from the Lord, which will it turn be a true blessing to our own souls.

Major Ian Thomas

Hagah, To Meditate

Psalm 1:2

Meditation has gotten a bad rap among some Christians, largely due to a connection with Eastern mysticism. This is really unfortunate for it has a critical place in the development of your discipleship. I believe it’s vital (and maybe even mandatory?)

Hagah is the Hebrew word for ‘meditation’ and it fascinates me.

It literally means to “moan, growl, utter, muse, or mutter.” Some have suggested that it contains the idea of ‘rumination,’ like a cow who chews a cud. The grass goes in, and it’s regurgitated several times, extracting every bit of nutrients and vitamins.

Hagah, or to meditate is the way we assimilate God’s Word into our lives. It’s critical that we do this in our walk as disciples that belong to Jesus.

Joshua 1:8, ESV

It’s an interesting command isn’t it? Joshua’s ministry is to lead God’s people and requires his deep connection to God’s promises. He needs to hagah God’s words, to purposefully think about them over and over and over.

It’s interesting to me that when Joshua meditates and carefully responds to the Word then he will receive success in his life and ministry. The word ‘success’ means “wisdom, comprehension, insight with prosperity.” I need that desperately.

And if Joshua needed to do this, might not we?

Start small and simple. There are over 8,000 promises in the Bible–pick one and ruminate on it. Hagah on the Word and try to extract the spiritual nutrients that it contains. You will grow, bless others, and walk in victory, defeating your enemy.

“The amount of time we spend with Jesus – meditating on His Word and His majesty, seeking His face – establishes our fruitfulness in the kingdom.”

    Charles Stanley

Bryan Lowe

alaskabibleteacher.com

Choosing Where to Sit

Luke 14:7-11, ESV

Choose your seat carefully. In Jesus’ day, there was a definite seating order to a wedding feast. It wasn’t first come, first served. There was a strict protocol, where one’s importance mattered. Honored people got honorable seats–close to the front as possible. Average people got average spots; but no one wanted to be at the bottom, having to sit at the “kids table.” 😁

Jesus was watching, and He saw a spiritual truth of his Kingdom.

Often He teaches out of the things we encounter–real life events. Spiritual truth often hits us from those things we actually see. If you want to know what God is doing in your life, all you need to do is look around at the “practical” things, and start to see the spiritual lessons inside them. We learn from real-life. That’s how he often teaches us, he combines the Word with what we’re experiencing.

I suspect that life is a very long lesson in humility.

Our natural inclination is to move higher up. We often think that we’re deserving, and so we take our “rightful” positions. That’s the way humans think. We all want to sit in the best possible place, and so we end up wheedling our way up front. We can fall into the subtle trap of self-promotion. But that’s not how discipleship works.

Humility is totally opposite from the world’s way of thinking.

Jesus corrects, advising us to take the lowest place. I think verse 11 is the key to figuring out this seating arrangement. We’re starting to see a physical situation become a spiritual lesson. There’s much to learn.

“For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled [before others], and he who habitually humbles himself (keeps a realistic self-view) will be exalted.”

Verse 11, Amplified Bible

This translation injects some realism into our lives, especially in how we see ourselves. It’s quite foundational. It lays down a principle that is always true in his Kingdom (1 Peter 5:6). If we don’t accept and implement this, we’ll suffer a definite deficiency in our discipleship. It stunts the growth of many believers. And that is tragic.

The whole scene lays out how life in the spirit really works, and it seems terribly paradoxical.

Our human logic asserts that deliberately choosing the lesser is foolish, things really don’t work that way. We think (falsely) that we’ll only advance by asserting ourselves. But Jesus, quite aptly, clarifies the ways of the Kingdom–true maturity will only come if we decide to take the lowest place.

James 4:10

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Restoration of Peter

15 “When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Feed my lambs.” 

16 He said to him a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Tend my sheep.” 17 He said to him the third time,” 

“Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.'”

John 21:15-17, (context vv. 15-19)

Peter’s denial was public one, and it was important that his restoration be public as well. It may come as a shock, but Peter needed to do this–even though it was a grief to him (verse 17.) He needed to do this to heal properly. It was also a clear testimony to the others that he was completely restored.

Repeatedly in this passage, love gets linked to service.

(Can you see this, it’s important that you do.) The Lord asks Peter if he really loved him, and most likely it was a solemn affair, not something trivial or casual. The word used is ἀγαπάω, “agape”–this is the type of love that God has for people. It’s an all-powerful love, one that gives 110%.

The third time the word for love is different though, the word used is φιλέω, “philo”–this is a type of love that a man has for others, a brotherly kind of love. Something good, but not quite agape love.

Each time Jesus uses agape to Peter, Peter responds with philo.

Peter responds, but he’s fixated on the brotherly type of love. I don’t mean to be confusing here, but every time Jesus uses agape to Peter, Peter responds with philo. It’s as if Peter is struggling with loving Jesus wholeheartedly. Perhaps Peter was ashamed of his denial. But to his credit he was honest.

Service is now connected to agape love.

Love can’t be seen unless it has a physical aspect. Love can’t be abstract, a vague feeling, or a hazy concept–it has to be seen by others. Jesus’ sheep (and lambs) must be fed, and watched over. This is now Peter’s call to ministry.

This is Jesus’ ministry as well.

Apparently there is plenty of this kind of work to go around! Isaiah prophesied about Jesus’ work in Isa. 40:11. This now becomes Peter’s work as well.

“He will tend his flock like a shepherd;
he will gather the lambs in his arms;
he will carry them in his bosom,
and gently lead those that are with young.”

Whether or not Peter was the first “pope” is debatable. But it’s clear that Jesus focused on Peter. And isn’t it just like him to turn our failings into victories. Peter’s denial was now his ministry to others. It dealt with the pride issue, which disrupts true ministry to His flock.

“And I will give you shepherds after my own heart, who will feed you with knowledge and understanding.”

Jeremiah 3:15

God uses broken things. It takes broken soil to produce a crop, broken clouds to give rain, broken grain to give bread, broken bread to give strength. It is the broken alabaster box that gives forth perfume. It is Peter, weeping bitterly, who returns to greater power than ever.

  Vance Havner

For I’m a Sinful Man

Luke 5:4-8, ESV

Man, could He teach. Jesus sat in my boat speaking to the crowd–His words had the ring of truth–authoritative. I had never in my life encountered anyone like Him. His teaching was masterful and it pierced through the religious rhetoric we grew up with.

But it just wasn’t words. My mother-in-law had a terrible fever, and Jesus had healed her. He had also healed many others as we watched. Never had a man done this, it was unprecedented. And now this very same Jesus was sitting in my boat.

He directed us to go out and fish again.

You must know that we had already fished during the night away, and had caught nothing. Sometimes that happens. But Jesus was asking us to make another try. Fishing during the day just wasn’t done and I suppose I wasn’t thrilled about working again.

We rowed out some distance and threw out our nets. I expected nothing. Suddenly, without warning, the nets began to fill with fish–big, beautiful fish! We scooped out as fast as we could, and our boat began to sink. There were so many and they kept coming. I shouted out to the other boat. We needed help.

Soon both of our boats had taken all they could possibly handle.

I was completely overwhelmed, and I turned around to see Jesus in a new light. He was more than a powerful man–He was the Lord and the Messiah! I instantly knew and believed. It was then I collapsed at His feet. I spoke that which was in my heart.

“Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.”

Life was about to change for Peter. Radically. I believe that it was at this point that his discipleship began. As he knelt there on the slimy fish he was told that he was going to become a “fisher of men.” That moment of brokenness would become a moment of real strength for him. I suppose that this is how it works.

Peter would commit a multitude of sins–he fell woefully short on several different occasions, and yet Jesus would forgive him over and over. At the end Peter would end up denying the Lord three times, and yet he repented.

Peter is an example of God’s grace and mercy.

God uses broken things. It takes broken soil to produce a crop, broken clouds to give rain, broken grain to give bread, broken bread to give strength. It is the broken alabaster box that gives forth perfume. It is Peter, weeping bitterly, who returns to greater power than ever.

     Vance Havner

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Doubting Thomas Speaks Up

John 20:25-29

But Thomas, sometimes called the Twin, one of the Twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. The other disciples told him, “We saw the Master.”

But he said, “Unless I see the nail holes in his hands, put my finger in the nail holes, and stick my hand in his side, I won’t believe it.”

Eight days later, his disciples were again in the room. This time Thomas was with them. Jesus came through the locked doors, stood among them, and said, “Peace to you.”

Then he focused his attention on Thomas. “Take your finger and examine my hands. Take your hand and stick it in my side. Don’t be unbelieving. Believe.”

Thomas said, “My Master! My God!”

Jesus said, “So, you believe because you’ve seen with your own eyes. Even better blessings are in store for those who believe without seeing.”

The others had told me that they had seen Jesus. But this couldn’t be. Either they imagined it or they saw His ghost. I saw him brutalized, crucified, and buried, and I knew He was really dead. I was never into pretending, or wish fulfillment. No, not me. When you’re dead, you’re dead. (At least that’s what I thought.)

I told the others that I would only believe them if I could see and feel the scars–the nail holes and the hole in his side. I needed proof, something tangible or solid before I could believe their stories. Part of me hoped it was so, but I honestly couldn’t join the others in their excitement.

Some would call me a doubter–a skeptic. But that isn’t quite true.

A realist is how I would describe myself. To go along with the others wasn’t going to cut it. They said that they had seen Him and He was very much alive, that somehow, someway He was now resurrected. But for me, I couldn’t believe it. I myself must know it for myself.

Was Jesus alive after all they had done to Him?

We had all gathered in a large room. We had locked the door–we were afraid that the authorities would come for us next. In spite of the confinement, we had some good fellowship that Sunday morning, catching up and sharing stories of the last three years, thinking about all the things Jesus had taught and done.

And then, suddenly, Jesus showed up! Trust me on this if you can–the door was locked, and there was no other way to get in. When Jesus “dropped in” we were completely amazed. He was very much alive–and how can this be? We were all in shock as He stood right in front of us!

Immediately Jesus looked at me, and I looked back–it was really Him!!

Jesus immediately focused on me, He asked me to come close; He wanted me to touch Him, to inspect and see for myself that He was as real as you or I. He asked me to come and see the nail prints in His hands, and stick my hand in the hole where the Roman soldiers had thrust a spear into His side.

And I was completely undone.

It was really Him, and I couldn’t explain it away. Jesus was real flesh and blood! In a second I went from doubt to faith. How He knew that I had voiced my hesitation out loud I didn’t know. But I now knew for certain Jesus was very much alive. Death was now dead.

“My Master! My God!” (That was all I could say.)

At that moment I became a “believing believer.” It wasn’t second-hand anymore; I wept and laughed at the same time! I couldn’t explain it, I must believe it. Jesus had overcome death and He was now commanding me to believe.

Immediately I knew, I saw Him for myself.

Looking back I admit my foolishness and doubt; Jesus had sought me out, and somehow He knew that of all His disciples, I needed that special touch. He understood and came me just for me. To this day I realized how much He really loved me–the doubting Thomas.

According to Christian tradition, Thomas, was killed by jealous Hindu priests of Kali India. He was burned to death in 72 AD. A church is now established there and still recognizes him as an apostle.

Bryan’s note: I can relate to Thomas. I was also one who needed to know for myself that Jesus was really God and that He really did rise from the dead. It was reading “More Than a Carpenter” by Josh McDowell that propelled me into belief. If you need to know for yourself, I suggest you buy this book. (If you can’t afford it, I’ll buy it for you.)

Art: Caravaggio’s The Incredulity of Saint Thomas, c. 1601-1502, oil on canvas–Verses are from The Message, a translation by Eugene Peterson.