Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. (John 14:27)

I want to tell you about a woman. Growing up, she watched her father, her mother, and her brother – all of her immediate family- suffer through cancer. All of them passed away. She recently found out that her only son, who is 25 years old, has cancer. Her son is also autistic. She has temporarily moved away from home to care for her son as he undergoes chemotherapy. I can’t image. I can’t image the pain of watching someone you love battle the very villain that took everything else away from you; the pain of watching one so helpless and so dependent rendered even more vulnerable. She constantly cares for him. He does not understand what is happening. When he throws up from the treatment, he has no sense of what is happening – and every time, she cleans everything up. Not once has she complained. Not once has she moped around, feeling sorry for herself, begging the world for attention. Patience. Humility. Strength

Muhammad Ali, Michael Jordan, Usain Bolt, Michelle Kwan, Rafael Nadalm, Tom Brady, the list goes on and on. Strength, right? These were all results that popped up in my Google strength for some of the strongest people. Fan clubs, an abundance of praise, ads, magazine spreads, billboards, all define these cultural icons. But, do we even have to go this far – we just have to look at our own response to those around us. We admire those who lift the most weight, those who run the fastest, those who are most agile. We truly are a culture bred to fawn the six-pack. Physical strength is often the center of our praise and adoration. That is not to say that this recognition is unmerited, because the strength of athletes illuminates dedication, passion, and will power. However, it is ironic that we, as a culture so adore physical strength, yet so neglect the strength that is forged in suffering.

It is a funny thing that this woman’s suffering has gone largely unnoticed.  Most of her friends have pretty much forgotten about her. No calls, no emails, no messages – nothing. It is a sad telling of our selfishness. Yet in this selfishness, there is something that glitters under the weight of her suffering. It is a strength and hope that remains, rooted not in the tenuous promises of the world, but rather in the very peace of God.

In a world of pain, weariness, trauma, suffering, trials, and loneliness, how easy would it be to give in to despair? To experience the depths of suffering and to feel like the world has abandoned you, yet choosing to persevere; indeed, this is true strength. It is a strength manifested in our weakness, it is a strength forged in our pain; it is a strength only possible in our brokenness. We should not be surprised though: Jesus drew numerous crowds when he performed miracles in the gospel; yet, when he died on the cross, he was alone- deserted even by his closest disciples. However, it is not in his miracles that we recognize his strength. Rather, it is in his suffering, in his death and resurrection that we understand that his strength was tied to the horror of the cross. Look to Jesus and realize that, in your suffering, you are in good company.

We strive for physical strength, perhaps because it garners praise and acknowledgement from others. But what is the value of the strength that is not seen? What is the value of the strength that is forgotten, unacknowledged, and born out of terrible pain? The apostle Paul, beaten, stoned, shipwrecked, hated, mocked, scorned, and despised did not lose hope. Why?

“So we do not lose heart… For this light, momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Cor 4:16-17)

Following Christ in the depths of despair requires a strength that is foreign to the world. It is a strength that recognizes that all of the anguish in the world is preparing us for something much weightier, something more eternal, and something that the world cannot fathom. It is a strength that warrants not the fleeting praise of man, rather the promise of glory: God’s glory. Trust in what Christ has done, and trust in what Christ has promised to do. Do not focus on the weight of the affliction; focus on the glory to come. Know that the weight you bear is none other than the crushing weight of God’s infinite glory.

Our culture has largely domesticated the cross. We have been conditioned to approach Jesus in quite a curious manner. We view his death with praise and thanksgiving, pointing to his incredible love that manifested itself in humility. We, however, never take a second to recognize humility for what it truly is.

In the cross, we see power, we see strength, we see the greatness of a King who provided the perfect sacrifice, and we see the conquering of sin. The cross, in antiquity, was an instrument of Rome’s brutalizing power to humiliate. It has been well established that “humility” was not a virtue in Greco-Roman ethics. Rather the word (humilitas in Latin, or tapeinos in Greek) meant something closer to “debased” or “crushed.” It was a term reserved for failure and shame. The ancient Greeks considered the 146 maxims of the Delphic Cannon from the 6^th century BC to be the substance of the ethical life; there is no mention of the word, let alone the theme, of “humility.” Rather, it praised philotimia, “the love of honour.” It would seem that building one’s honor and reputation would prove to be far more advantageous than completely debasing oneself.

I am currently taking a class that focuses on Pauline letters in the context of the prevailing Roman Imperial influence. Probably, one of the best known expression of love-of-honor is the Res Gestae Divi Augusti (The Achievements of the Divine Augustus), written by the emperor himself and inscribed by his order onto bronze tablets set up in front of his monument. Copies of this were distributed throughout the empire, and it provided a catalogue of the emperor’s activities. However, more importantly, it provides a glimpse of a world-view so different than our own where a sense of boastfulness was accepted and associated with power.

So where does humility enter the picture?

If we glance through Jesus’ teachings, we find:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. ”

“Love your enemies. ”

“If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.”

Jesus seemed to be subverting the ancient notions of greatness and servitude, but it was not his teaching that was responsible for the prevailing notion of humility; rather,  it was his death. Crucifixion was the ultimate punishment in antiquity, reserved for political rebels and slaves. Among the three official method of capital punishment, crucifixion, decapitation, and burning alive, crucifixion was seen as the most brutal and most shameful. Victims were scourged with a leather strap embedded with meta and pottery, stripped naked, led to a public place and nailed to a large wooden beam, where they could spend sometimes days of excruciating pain, often dying from asphyxiation. This is the death that our King faced. The most perfect man was brought to the lowest place the Roman world could construct.

Yet, in his debasement, we find glory. We also find the motivation behind our own humility.

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. (Phil 2:3-8)

It is hard and quite counter-intuitive to accept the beauty of such ethics as humility when one refuses to accept the one who was responsible for their beauty.

John Dickinson so aptly puts it, “That is the influence of a story whose impact can be felt regardless of whether its details are believed – a story about greatness that willingly went to a cross. Our culture remains cruciform long after it stopped being Christian.”

This is Lecrae’s story, taken from I Am Second. Funny how God often uses our darkest moments and the depths of our suffering to give us a glimpse of his glory.

I remember when I was seventeen and a woman asked me if I was saved. I didn’t have any idea what she meant. Saved, what the heck was saved? The best thing I could think through was am I like my grandmother? And I adamantly told her no because I am not like my grandmother.

I do hip hop music. Its more than music it’s actually a culture; it is the lens by which you see the world. They are talking reckless, what you expecting from the walking dead.  It’s okay to be passionate, bold: it’s masculinity, it is what I do.  I used to sneak and watch rap videos in my grandmother’s house because I was too little and she wouldn’t have let me watch them. I would sit there and marvel late at night. I found people to look up to. There were no Barak Obamas, Martin Luther Kings or Malcom Xs, they had all passed away so I had Tupac. I’ve been trapped since birth cautious cause that I’m cursed, fantasies of my family in a hearse, and they say it’s the white man I should fear, but its my own kind doing all the killing here.

I wasn’t the greatest athlete, definitely wasn’t a scholarly student, I wasn’t the toughest guy, but being able to rap was my source of significance. I grew up wrestling with significance because my father and mother weren’t together. I never met my father; he became a drug addict and let his life crumble.  I felt like my dad was a piece of my life that I needed to have to feel like somebody. Having a single mother who worked a lot, she had to entrust me to the care of family members and different people a lot of the time. I experienced abuse as a kid and neglect and different kind of things so I just wanted significance and I didn’t feel like I would get it trying to be this well manicured, good, all around student and person.

The people I looked up to were gangsters. My uncle showed me a gun and I just wanted to be like those guys. I remember taking a bb gun and standing in the street pointing it to a car and I just saw the lady panic and freak out. For me that was fun, I didn’t have anything to do. I wanted to be back in the inner city, I wanted to be doing criminal activity so I kept rebelling and I kept doing worse. Drugs when I was 16 and fighting all the time. I got arrested in high school for stealing. What am I doing with my life? I got put on a gang list, I remember thinking man I guess I am I supposed to care? Went from drugs to drinking, I am a wreck, partying, I don’t fit anywhere. I am just this misfit of a person. My mother was like, “You just need to read your bible.”  I remember ripping the pages out of the bible and throwing it on the floor. I don’t want this bible. I couldn’t wrap my hands around this being true or real. My grandmother was a Christian and I remember having to go to church with her and it was older people. So for church it wasn’t about God, it was for them, it wasn’t for me. It’s probably not real; it’s probably something people use as a crutch. I think as the emptiness became more profound, when I had to drink and smoke more, find more and more women, when I was really in a really, really dark place…

5:46 in the morning tossing and turning, chest burning, sermons in my head keep re-occurring, having visions in my head of a kid crying at the feet of the father for all the wrong things that he did. Now I am sweating in my sheets, can’t sleep cause my mind keep telling me I am 6 ft deep. Don’t remind me, even though I am still alive I can tell the way I am living my life I am going to hell.

I got invited by a friend to a conference and I really am just more excited about being in the big city. More excited about there being girls and what the city brings, not really concerned about the conference. So when I get to the conference I see guys who had been shot from being in gangs, girls who were extremely promiscuous in the past, I see rappers, dancers and singers; I see people who came from the same background I came from, and they still embodied who they were culturally, but they were all in love with Jesus and I had never seen that before.

Then I saw another group and they were sold out for Jesus and they were rapping and you heard about it in their songs; and I was like, “What in the world?” And as I listened to the lyrics I was like, “I don’t know this, I don’t understand this God that they are talking about.” And then finally someone got up and said, “Do you know you have been bought with a price?” Then he told me the story of Jesus, and him carrying the cross and him bearing all my sin, all my lying, all of my cheating, all of my escapades, all of my drinking and drugging, and put it on his own back. He said I was bought with a price. It made me think, “Man, someone thinks I am significant enough to die for me. Someone thinks I am significant enough to climb up this mountain with a cross on his back and take nails in his wrists and his feet for me.” I remember articulating, “God get me out of this, don’t kill me; do whatever you have to do to get me out of this, just don’t kill me.”

I was driving down the highway and I turned too quick and lost control of the wheel and my car flipped over again and again. The roof caved in, the windshield caved in, no seatbelt, glass everywhere, my glasses I had on were molded into the frame of the car; and I didn’t have a scratch. That was it.  I said I get it. I called up my friends who I knew were living for Jesus and I said, “We got to make this happen. I am coming home.”

I saw change happening. I spent a lot of time searching for father figures, and just all the evidence, and God has shown me that ultimately He is my father. It drives me to keep pressing. I started volunteering at a juvenile detention center and some of those songs that I had written in my darkest times when I was crying out to God I would do for them and I would just see them sitting there weeping.  And time after time they kept requesting for me to do the song again, “I just need to keep holding onto that, because it’s something that would keep reminding me that I need Jesus.” And it hit me like, this is what I wanted to do, to use music to offer hope and encouragement to people.

I was created by God, but I didn’t want to be like him I wanted to be Him. The Jack Sparro of my Caribbean.  I remember the first created being and how he shifted the blame on his dame for food he shouldn’t have eaten. And now I look at us all out of Eden, wearing designer fig leaves by Loui Vuitton make believing. But God sees through my foolish pride, and that I am weak like Adam, another victim to Lucifer’s lies, but then in steps Jesus. All men were created to lead, but we needed somebody to lead us, more than a teacher, but someone to buy us back from the darkness, you can say He redeemed us.

I’ve learned to stay close to my source of significance and to my source of worth – and that is God.

My name is Lecrae and I am Second.

 

What beauty is worthy of worship? And, what exactly is beauty?

Genesis introduces us to a false, but dazzling beauty.  Eve saw that the fruit was “beautiful” to eat and “pleasing to the eye.” Her experience of beauty however is one-dimensional. It is an experience that we often latch on to, often forgetting  the “beauty” that composed Christ.

He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. ~Isaiah 53:2

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Just as there were many who were appalled at him— his appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any human being and his form marred beyond human likeness. ~Isaiah 52:14

The beauty and majesty of Christ are phrases that we toss around often when we reflect on his splendor and grace. What exactly is so beautiful and so majestic about Christ that makes him worthy of one to be worshiped? Isaiah addresses this in his unique portrayal of the beauty of Christ. I find these two images of Christ fascinating: an image of an unadorned Christ at birth and an image of a hideously tortured Christ at death.

In his appearance, we see no beauty or glory. His form was base and lacking before the sons of men or as the Hebrew has it, despised and least among people. Yet in the Psalms we see a poetic-prophetic representation of Christ with the Church that portrays quite a different picture: “You are the fairest of the children of men and graciousness is poured upon your lips.” On the one hand, Christ is acknowledged as the fairest of men, with graciousness that manifests itself in the beauty of his words. On the other hand we have an image of Christ who, ordinary at birth, had no external beauty left at death. In fact, Pilate presents Him to the crowd saying “Ecce homo” to arouse pity for this man who has been overwhelmed and beaten. Augustine addressed this paradox, referring to two trumpets resounding in opposition that both receive their sound from the same Spirit. Though both notes of the paradox of Christ’s beauty resound with different notes, they are not a contradiction; rather, it is precisely the paradox that begins to unravel the essence of true beauty, of truth itself.

The beauty of Christ lies in the fact that he is everything we did not expect. We find a God who manifested Himself in the terrifying appearance of crucified Christ in the most beautiful act of self-sacrifice. We find the beauty in the paradox a baby born cloaked in a swaddling cloth in a humble manger rather than being clocked in the garments of a King. We find a God who is everything that we were meant to be, but were never able to be.  It is interesting to me that when I was Hindu, all of the marble idols we worshiped were beautiful- beautiful in both appearance and power and decorated and adorned. But this is not real beauty. It is the mendacious beauty of the fruit that captivates Eve. We know very well just where this false sense of beauty landed Eve, not to mention the rest of humanity. Our perception of beauty is sadly, very similar to Eve’s, and misunderstanding the beauty of Christ will cause us to miss the essence of his very being.

We see our flawed conception of beauty crumble because we see in Christ a new dimension of beauty that allows itself to be struck in the face, spat upon, and crowned with thorns. It is in the depth of his hideous death that we most fully experience the beauty of love.  His beauty was hidden, but it was ultimately revealed on the cross. We pursue a God who is the source of all truth – desiring to know who he is, but at the same time remembering who we are, knowing our own limitations and inability to fully comprehend. But it is not a hopeless pursuit. Though we cannot fully see God, we can in fact see his paradoxical beauty. A beauty in pain. A beauty in suffering. A beauty in sacrifice. A beauty in the bloody, marred body of one who loved us. Nothing less than a paradox could capture this beauty: the beauty of love.

This Tuesday, I was standing on the T (Boston’s subway system) literally engulfed in a sea of people. If you have ever taken the T at 5 pm rush hour, you know the feeling. As I was standing there I looked around, and I saw a man standing with what appeared to be his two sons. His eyes were red and puffy, and he looked as if he had been crying; clearly, something was wrong.

I don’t know why this man was hurting, but he obviously was.  I looked around again and was overwhelmed by the depth of hurt and suffering that I am sure each and every individual standing on the T had experienced at some point. So many people; so many stories. The girl with the headphones on her ears; the man reading a book in the corner; the woman that was sleeping; the woman that was reading; the boy staring out the window – all of us; united by the experience of pain. It occurred to me just how broken we really are.

Broken dreams. Broken hopes. Broken promises. Broken hearts. Broken lives. Broken families. Truly, a broken people.  It is in moments like these that I see how truly broken I am.

How often we have been betrayed, lied to, and ignored. We see the people we love the most battling diseases and illness that whittle them down to desperate weakness. The injustices of abuse and murder are constant reminders of the world we live in. In our world, it appears that injustice reigns. Not only does the world attempt to break us from the outside, our tendency to sin and to fear breaks us from the inside.  We are crippled.

(Jonathan son of Saul had a son who was lame in both feet. He was five years old when the news about Saul and Jonathan came from Jezreel. His nurse picked him up and fled, but as she hurried to leave, he fell and became crippled. His name was Mephibosheth.) ~2 Samuel 4:4

David asked, “Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show kindness for Jonathan’s sake?” 
“There is still a son of Jonathan; he is crippled in both feet.” 
“Where is he?” the king asked. 
Ziba answered, “He is at the house of Makir son of Ammiel in Lo Debar.” 
 So King David had him fetched from Lo Debar, from the house of Makir son of Ammiel.  When Mephibosheth son of Jonathan, the son of Saul, came to David, he bowed down to pay him honor. 
David said, “Mephibosheth!…I will restore to you all the land that belonged to your grandfather Saul, and you will always eat at my table.” And Mephibosheth lived in Jerusalem, because he always ate at the king’s table, and he was crippled in both feet. 2 Samuel 9

Mephibosheth came from a line of descendants of Saul that had been earmarked for death. Furthermore he was living in Lo Debar, which means “no pasture” in the house of Machir, which means “sold.” He was lame and therefore could not work. He inherited nothing but poverty and death from his family. Yet we see in this story that he is called by King David even though he is undeserving, and we see that it is in his brokenness we witness the power of grace. Notice that we are told that he had to be fetched. This is such a beautiful concept that marvelously tells the story of God’s grace to us. Mephibosheth had done nothing to merit the kindness shown to him. Nor was he able to even get himself to the table. He was crippled and unable. He had to be carried to King David’s table.

In this story I see God’s grace despite my lack of gratitude. More than that, however, I see that God’s grace is manifested in the very fact that I am crippled.  It is not simply that as believers we are seated at the Lord’s Table; rather, it is the very fact that we are allowed to come to the table even in our brokenness that makes our story so unique. Like Mephibosheth we are carried, and it is in our inability and God’s ability that we are able to glimpse the grace of God. Even in our brokenness, we, like Mephibosheth are allowed to sit where we clearly don’t belong.

Remember that Jesus’ most divine act was not complete until he was broken. It is in Jesus’ brokenness we experience the fullness of God’s grace. So, too, can God take our brokenness and use it to display His power.

Suffering brings us to our knees, often revealing the core of what lies under the image we portray to the world. It exposes our vulnerability and the condition of our hope. When we are most broken, the true strength that supports us is manifested in a clarity that would it would otherwise not be. The weaker we are, the more we are forced to lean on Jesus. Where there is sorrow, there will be misery. But, when there is misery, there will also be grace. This grace will sustain.

Will you be faithful or will you be faithless? When you are broken and exposed, what will those watching see: your despair, or God’s grace?

“Lord Jesus, you who were immeasurably rich in all things became incomprehensibly poor for us, so that we, who were desperately poor in sin, might be made inconceivably rich in grace.”

I came across this incredible fragment of a prayer by Scotty Smith and was immediately captivated and humbled, as I often am, by the divine paradox that is Christ.

“you who were immeasurably rich in all things became incomprehensibly poor for us”

Christ was wholly God, yet wholly man.  He was the Lion of the Tribe of Judah; yet he was a Lamb sent to be slaughtered. He was the King of Kings; yet he came as a servant. He never sinned; yet he suffered a criminal’s death

“we, who were desperately poor in sin, might be made inconceivably rich in grace.”

I am familiar with the paradox of Christ; yet, it was not until I read this prayer that I fully recognized that he has extended his own paradox onto us. That is, when we became new creations in Christ, we inherited a piece of his paradox. I had never really considered myself to be a paradox. In 2 Corinthians 5 Paul writes, “All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself…For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. (2 Cor 18, 21). The word “reconcile”  (katallasso) is an old word for exchanging coins, pointing us to the conclusion that we have become part of a divine exchange. The righteous son bore the sins of man so that the sinner could inherit righteousness. Our paradox is exactly opposite the paradox of Christ – it is quite beautiful and quite humbling. The extent to which we cannot fathom the brutal sacrifice Jesus made parallels the extent to which we cannot fathom the tremendous grace that  we received . It is a paradox that was completed at the cross.

Over the past couple weeks, the following has been weighing heavy on my heart: God did not put me here to be perfect; he put me here so that others could come to know the One who is perfect. This prayer was a reminder for me to step back from the expectations my type-A personality likes to create and instead just stand in awe of the perfection that is in Christ and the richness of grace he has bestowed upon me.

A divine paradox and a divine exchange  - how beautifully intricate. Give Him thanks.

“Justification through faith” is a phrase that is thrown around quite a bit. Many argue that justification by faith (rather than works) leads many to a life of looseness, laziness, and allows Christians to justify their decision to continue living in sin.  While I am sure there are plenty of Christians who fit the above description, this should by no means tarnish the absolutely beautiful construction of justification in The Bible.

In Redemption Accomplished and Applied, John Murray puts forth a compelling and powerful argument:

“It is an old and time-worn objection that this doctrine ministers to license and looseness (he is speaking of the doctrine of justification by faith in Christ alone). Only those who know not the power of the gospel will plead such misconception. Justification is by faith alone, but not by a faith that is alone.”

Read it again: Justification is by faith alone, but not by a faith that is alone.

Our faith cannot be alone because the very essence of the faith we receive compels us to respond in holiness and works of faith. This is not to say that we are saved by works, but rather that we are justified by a faith that obliges us to work.

Murray continues:

“Justification is not all that is embraced in the gospel of redeeming grace. Christ is a complete Savior and it is not justification alone that the believing sinner possesses in him. And faith is not the only response in the heart of him who has entrusted himself to Christ for salvation. Faith alone justifies but a justified person with faith alone would be a monstrosity which never exists in the kingdom of grace. Faith works itself out through love (Gal. 5:6). And Faith without works is dead (James 2:17-20).”

I am quite humbled when I think about the character of my faith. It is not just simply believing; it is an agreement to be transformed by a grace that has been offered to the most undeserving. How quickly we choose to forget that faith implies a change- a call to die to our old self and a call to be transformed. What is the condition of your faith? We often say we need more faith. We don’t- we just need Biblical faith.

Murray concludes:

“It is living faith that justifies and living faith unites to Christ both in the virtue of his death and in the power of his resurrection. No one has entrusted himself to Christ for deliverance from the guilt of sin who has not also entrusted himself to him for deliverance from the power of sin. What shall we say then? Shall we continue in sin, that grace may abound? God forbid. How shall we, that are dead to sin, live any longer therein?”

This is so powerful that I struggle to wrap my mind around it. We have been saved by the blood of Christ and because of this infinite expression of grace; we have been delivered from the guilt of sin. But there is more. We have also been delivered from the power of sin. Before we were saved, we were necessarily controlled, mastered, and enslaved by our sin. Not only did God save us through his sovereign grace to reconcile us with him, he also poured into us the Holy Spirit, so that we could overcome sin.

What does this mean? It means that the same power that saved you is now available for you to put sin to death- to destroy it. This is incredible.

“No one has entrusted himself to Christ for deliverance from the guilt of sin who has not also entrusted himself to him for deliverance from the power of sin.”

“If you would have God hear you when you pray, you must hear him when he speaks.” —Thomas Brooks

It is that frenzied time we know as “Shopping Period” here at Harvard. Students shop around for classes before submitting a study card for formal enrollment in a course. As I sat in one a tutorial, I was a little scared of the fact that 60% of the grade was based on participation.  I guess it makes sense- they are in fact training us to communicate; to be leaders that voice are opinions. We are trained to speak up and rewarded when we do so. However, in a quest to find our own voice, often forget how to listen.

Unfortunately, not only do we fail to listen to people, we fail to listen to God. I was convicted today, realizing that most of my prayers consist of a laundry list of things asking for something for myself, something for other people, with some “thank you” sprinkled in. Now of course all those prayers are important, but it occurred to me that the majority of my prayers are me speaking, and hardly, if any, of that time is actually spent listening. I had to ask myself: Am I praying because I want to hear God; or am I praying because I just want God to hear me?

It has always frustrated me a little that teachers tend to gauge how much you learn based on how much you speak rather than how much you listen. God doesn’t work that way though. Yes, God wants us to speak, but He cannot bless us until we learn how to listen. Moses got a burning bush, but all Elijah got was a whisper. Elijah didn’t hear God in the winds, earthquake or fire; but in a gentle whisper. We must learn to close our mouths and open our ears. Be still and listen for His voice.

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. 1 Kings 19:11-13

The Casey Anthony case has captivated much of the country. The verdict incited outrage as people venomously denounced the not-guilty that acquitted the young master-weaver of lies who seemed to be more interested in boyfriends and barhopping than in caring for her child.

I am not in any position to offer any opinions about guilt or innocence, but either way, this case put a pit in my stomach. In the midst of tremendous uncertainty, there is one thing that is very certain: justice will ultimately prevail. It is a justice rooted in a wrath that is far more powerful that we can ever comprehend: divine justice.

“Dear friends, never take revenge. Leave that to the righteous anger of God. For the Scriptures say, “I will take revenge; I will pay them back,” says the LORD.” Romans 12:19

We must trust that God will bring justice because vengeance ultimately belongs to Him. There is no evil in God- no one will get away with anything. There is no lie that he will not demolish and no shenanigan that he will not see through. Even when we might lose faith in our government system, we must honor it and recognize that we can never lose faith in God. He is sovereign. We, like Joseph, must remember that even what was mean to harm, can be worked together for good through God. We will never be able to understand the splendor of his justice, but we must always remember that it is there.

Take this opportunity to examine yourself. The Scripture warns us over and over again not to take revenge on others, and to leave revenge to God. Sure, you can’t take “real revenge” on Casey Anthony, but it seems like many have found ways to take revenge through Tweets and Facebook statuses. Trust me, Tweets will not bring justice. But, even we will one day have to stand before the Divine Judge.

How is it that I can be more disgusted in someone else’s sin than in my own? The depths of my sin condemn me to Hell as well. I am not just in my own right- I am justified because of God’s grace. Because of Him, I will not have to pay the price of my sins.

Take it as a reminder of your own sin. Take time to thank Him for His grace.

Homogenization is the process of mixing up milk until it has a uniform consistency- until it is “fully blended.”

There is an old song we used to sing at school; it has been in my mind lately. “And they’ll know we are Christians by our love.” If someone were to step back and look at my life, would they be able to see the love that defines Christ without even hearing me proclaim that I am Christian? Would I look any different than someone who is not Christian? Would my actions be any different?

Unfortunately, we live in a world that seeks to homogenize us, and often, our lives appear no different to someone on the outside looking in. However, I think we use “the world” excuse to place the blame off of ourselves and continue basking in our sinfulness. We love to accuse “the world”- that large vicious entity that is always waiting to attack us. We find ourselves pandering to the culture around us in hopes of getting attention. The music we listen to; the things we watch; the language we use – we are no different and refuse to change. Not only do we refuse to change, we make excuses. We live a gospel that is very different from the one we preach, justifying this inconsistency by arguing that it is the only way we can reach non-believers.

There is no need to compromise to make Christianity seem more reasonable.

Remember Evan Almighty, the film that was released as an updated story of Noah in the Bible? Morgan Freeman, as God, commands Evan to build an ark, and amusement ensues. I tremble to think that God’s wrath has been reduced to hilarity and indulged in by both non-Christians and Christians alike. Is this how we choose to portray God’s wrath and communicate Noah’s faith? There is absolutely no room for giggles in the midst of God’s terrifying wrath, and movies like this certainly make light of our faith. Amidst all of the laughs and vulgarity, people cannot understand God better. As a matter of fact, they will probably see the biblical story of the flood as being as unrealistic and implausible as the movie.

Our job is not to make Christianity seem more appealing by compromising biblical truths. I am very confident that God speaks more clearly through His truth than through our foolish renditions of it.

The Bible makes very clear what God expects of us. God’s commitments to us are written in His promises to us and are manifested in His love. And while we expect Him to uphold His promises, we are often less than willing to follow suit. We like to feel “chosen” and “special” when it is convenient- when we need a job, a raise, healing. But what about when it sets us apart, leaving us as the outcast? We are called to be different. God is looking for commitment, not compromise.  God accepts us even though we sin, but He does not accept our sins. God accepts all who come to the table, but He by no means permits all we bring to the table.

We project a false image of God, and a false understanding of Him. We often justify it, saying, “God knows my heart.” But I think the real question we should be asking is, “Do we know His?”

The world is not going to change- so you must.

You can always recognize non-homogenized milk because the cream separates and sits at the top.