PSALM 110 - Battlefield Earth

The Lord will enlarge Your kingdom beyond Jerusalem, and You will rule over Your enemies. Your people will join You on Your day of battle. You have been dressed in holiness since birth. You have the freshness of a child.  (Verses 2-3)

"My kingdom is not of this world." Jesus to Pilate     John 18

That's the problem, isn't it? We still think in terms of this world. I read an article this morning revealing a popular political view emerging more and more in our society that church life should be kept inside the walls of the church. No meandering out in public with our love for Jesus. No infringing upon the political correctness of American lifestyle and politics with our understanding of morality or compassion. Keep religion in the church! That is an impossibility even if we, in our daunting position, decide to comply. Jesus isn't about this government, anyway. His realm is far more vast than the tiny globe we inhabit. He rules over more than puny people who raise their silly fists in His face. Jesus spoke the stars into being and still tells them where to go. Lord of heaven and earth, the Son is in charge of the future we think we control. No one comes to power if He didn't say so. The agenda of the Trinity is set. Battle grounds have been designated. And the Victor, streaming down from heaven on a glistening white stallion, accompanied by the armies of God, also astride white horses, will demolish the great kings of the earth(Revelation 19). No more Idi Amin. No more starvation in Africa. No more genocide in Rwanda. The One called "The Word of God" with King of Kings and Lord of Lords written on His robe and on His thigh, lest we miss it is Jesus come to conquer, will rule over His enemies. And we will see it. In heaven, right now, in the moment I write this, Jesus already rules over His enemies. They can do nothing He doesn't allow. History is set. It's a chess game God will win. But this isn't His kingdom.

We are. Jesus understands how hard it is to live for His spiritual kingdom in the physical world. In His prayer the night of His arrest, Jesus prayed over us when He spoke to the Father about His disciples. "I am praying for them. I am not praying for the world but for those whom You have given Me, for they are Yours. All Mine are Yours and Yours are Mine, and I am glorified in them. And I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to You...I do not ask that You take them out of this world, but that You keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. Sanctify them in the truth. Your Word is truth. As You sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world." (John 17, italics, mine). Those of us who know Christ understand our enemy isn't the state. It's not the rulers of this earth. It is the evil one. The unseen kingdom of darkness ruled by principalities and powers we can't see. Our battle ground is cosmic in scope and not limited to the Hitlers of this age. We fight against the spirit of this age. Against the demons who control mere men. Against the lies and agenda of the devil. And our weapons aren't handguns or tanks. The weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ
(2 Corinthians 10).

The two realms separated for us when we were "born again." Not of the water of the wombs of our mothers, but born of the Spirit of God. A spiritual other life. That must necessarily affect our minds, bodies and spirits. No more can we keep our faith out of the market places and cities of this world than we can cloister our bodies inside the walls of the local Baptist church. We are to live like Christians everywhere. If it doesn't affect our way of life, it isn't valid. And that is what the world doesn't understand. They see our faith as a code of ethics. A set of stringent rules to be obeyed. And they don't want those rules enforced upon them. And they shouldn't. They don't even have the power to obey a bunch of commandments. And neither did we. Before we became new creatures in Him. We make the world uncomfortable. We feel squeezed into trying to be like them.

So what do we do as we are "in the world" as believers? How do we live, then, knowing our kingdom is a spiritual one that changes our view of the physical one? We follow Christ. We live authentically, compassionately, intentionally with our weapons of warfare aimed at the true enemy of our faith. In prayer, taking down strongholds and battling the lies the enemy uses to destroy souls. Remembering it was the uber-religious who killed Christ. Not the world. Pilate saw no fault in Him. Was troubled by the kingdom of which Jesus spoke. Declared Him to be King of the Jews. The point for them was the laws of their religion. The point for us is the love for our Savior. One motivates for punishment. The other, for redemption. I want to walk out into the streets of my world today armed for battle against evil and clothed in love for the lost. Compassion oozes out despite ourselves. Religion is best kept locked away in the four walls of any establishment that sees only right and wrong. That can be argued. Let's fight the fight on our knees and live the life in His light. We are holy from our new birth. Came as a child to Jesus. Have been adopted by that birth into a new family. With fresh joy I want to be the aroma of life today as I walk hand in hand with my God on battlefield Earth.

PSALM 110 - How Do You Like Him Now?

The Lord says to my Lord, "Sit at My right hand, until I make Your enemies Your footstool."
(Verse 1)

"Behold! The Lamb of God Who takes away the sins of the world!" John 1:29

Heaven was breathless. The Son risen and returning. Thousands upon ten thousands of angels, the living beings that surround the throne of God and twenty-four elders more fervent in their worship as they anticipate His arrival. "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, Who was and is and is to come!" John, the disciple of Jesus, then saw a scroll in the hands of the One seated on the throne. There was writing on both sides of it and it was sealed with seven seals.

"Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seven seals?" cried a mighty angel in a loud voice that echoed to the ends of heaven.

No one. The silence of it broke John as he waited, looking for someone to come forward. Not one stepped up to the throne, in heaven or earth or from under the earth. All were still in heartbreaking anticipation. The void filled the apostle and he wailed the grief of it. John's keening heard over the worship, cutting through the praise until one of the twenty-four elders noticed. "Don't weep any more!" he cried out to John. "Look! Look there! The Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered! He can open the scrolls! He can break the seals!"

Fresh from victory, still bloodied as though He'd been slain, was Jesus, the Lamb of heaven, standing at the right hand of God, His Father. Jesus now home. Finished with crosses and the darkness of tombs! The Messiah straight from fulfilling all the hundreds of prophecies set in the earthly book to announce a spiritual victory proclaimed and rejoiced over by the host of heaven. Jesus stood there silently as John moved to see His face, a sacrificial Lamb still bearing the marks of Earth that made Him worthy to finish history by His every command.

Then Jesus moved. Took the scroll from the Father's right hand and heaven's host fell face down before Him. The twenty-four elders held harps and bowls of incense. These bowls were the prayers of God's people, and the fragrant smoke rose to sweeten the throne room as the elders played a song never heard before in heaven. The new song. To a risen Lamb. All the honor Jesus missed from the ignominy of His cross, now split heaven open as the elders loudly sang: "Worthy are You to take the scroll and to open its seals, for You were slain, and by Your blood You ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation, and You have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth!"

The music of heaven, more full, more harmonious, more breathtaking than John could imagine. And Jesus standing in the midst, made of light, glistening in His glory unashamed of His wounds, aware of the import of the sealed scroll now in His hand, received the adoration shouted from the throngs of heavenly beings whose bodies shook with the fervor of it. "Worthy is the Lamb Who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!"

Suddenly, in response to the rumbling declaration of heaven, John heard the future collide with the present. Every creature in the heavens and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and everything that is in them, cried out, "To Him Who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!" Like the roaring of myriad waterfalls, loud and resonating to fill the vacuums in every soul, to shake the mountains of creation and the foundations of heaven, all strove to somehow express the depths of the love they felt with their entire beings.

And the four living beings around the throne shouted, "Amen!" Heaven reverberated as the twenty-four elders fell down once more in abject and unabashed worship before the Lamb.

That is why Jesus could endure the cross, carry our shame, bear our sins. For this. The acknowledgement when He went home that He is the Only One worthy to see us through to the end. The accolades earthy, dusty men failed to honor Jesus with were waiting for Him in the throne room drenched in emerald brilliance, shaking with lightning and thunder. All the hosts waited in breathless anticipation for this day. Legions of angels had to be held back as they watched God the Son murdered on the cross. Mourning pierced heaven when God the Father turned from His Only Begotten Son so the Lamb could bear the just punishment for our sins. But the moment the bloodied Lamb appeared from His destined death, walked up to His Father waiting there with the scroll of the Son's honor in His right hand, He knew He'd come home to finish the work of our salvation, smelling the incense of our continued prayers. In that moment it was worth it all.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight and the sin which so easily clings to us, and let us run with endurance the race set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, Who, for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame and is now seated at the right hand of the throne of God.  Hebrews 12   (italics, mine)

PSALM 109 - Earth's Crisis Point!

With my mouth I will give great thanks to the Lord. I will praise Him in the midst of the throng. For He stands at the right hand of the needy one, to save Him from those who condemn his soul to death. ( Verses 30-31)

For the word of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but for us who are being saved, it is the power of God. For it is written, "I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning, I will thwart."
Where is the one who is wise? Where is the writer? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe.  1 Corinthians 1

I watched with much of America last night as ninety-five-year-old Billy Graham spoke once again unashamedly--boldly--about the cross of Christ. Rock stars wear it, diamond-encrusted and bawdy, hanging from their necks. Churches are adorned with crosses on steeples and in sanctuaries all over the world. For some, it's merely a bauble--a symbol of peace and love. Remembering the good man who was treated ill and still forgave his enemies as he gazed down on lesser men from his sacred vantage point. Others see it derisively. A foolish belief in a silly story. Gods don't mix with men then die. On a wooden cross. Between two thieves. Crazy.

Tears filled my eyes--fill them again now--at Dr. Graham's first mention of the word. If the cross on which Jesus died is merely a symbol, what is the explanation for generations of people flocking toward the front of auditoriums, stadiums, theaters and arenas across the world in order to give their lives to Christ when Billy Graham preached simply the cross? To then be changed forever. It's not the cross, of course. It's Who was on it. What it was about. Why Jesus cried out, "It is finished!"

In the days before His triumphal entry into Jerusalem for the feast days culminating in Passover, Jesus visited Bethany and brought His dear friend Lazarus back from the dead. Four days he'd been in the tomb. When Lazarus appeared, he was still bound in his grave clothes, wound tightly like a mummy. The crowds gathered there gasped! The Pharisees convulsed. It was the defining miracle of Jesus's ministry. It was the last straw for his enemies. They plotted His death thereafter.

But the throngs of people in Jerusalem for the feast days were anticipating the coming of Jesus. Still marveling at the miracle of  Lazarus. Never had one dead so long been raised. Surely Jesus is the King! Messiah finally come! So on the back of a donkey He rode into their streets as they screamed, "Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel!"

"The whole world's gone crazy for this man!" said the Pharisees among themselves. What to do?

In the midst of the pressing crowd later that day, Jesus struggled with what He knew He was going to face in the hours ahead. "I'm troubled," He told the disciples. "But what shall I say, that I'm not going to do this thing. Call out to my Father to save me from this?"

Confused, the disciples simply walked in the way with him through the streets of the city. Suddenly Jesus stopped and looked up. "Father, glorify Your name." Not a shout. The normal outcropping of His inner prayer life. But God answered Him. "I have. And I will glorify it again." Deep answering to deep. And there was loud, crashing thunder in the middle of a clear, blue day. "An angel has spoken to Him." The sense the crowd had.

"This voice hasn't come for My sake, but for yours. Now krisis is upon this world. Now the ruler of this world shall be cast down!"  Krisis: crisis, judgment, damnation, condemnation. Jesus said, "The world is at its crisis point. And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to Myself."
John 12

And so by the end of the week, the answer to the crisis of creation came in the form of a hero who once and for all did battle with evil. Lest we think there is no demonic influence in our world, we must look around. Marvel at the addictions that wrap themselves around our hearts and minds. Prisons that don't make sense. We are fettered to concoctions and relationships. We are bound by our desires and are pulled by the hair of our spiritual heads into death. That is what Jesus could see. The snake in the garden who took over the world. The One Who was to crush the enemy as promised from the very first headlong tumble into sin in Eden must free us from his hold. No armor. No jet black stallions and fair maidens. No shouting "Freedom!" from the midst of battle. No need for another to die to bring justice. Lifted up for all to see, shamed with our shame, derided unfairly, Jesus knew as He hung between two crooks that this was the only way to win us back. And we don't love Him for His bravado. For the curly locks and cocky swagger of the usual super hero. We love Jesus and the cross because it is His glory. It is the weightiness of His coming to earth. It is the cross that crushed our dependency on self, broke all the agreements we'd made with the evil one, exposed all the lies we foolishly believed and set us free to really know our God! If that is foolishness, then I'm a fool. But one changed by the exaltation of Christ in the victory that was His death. Transformed by a new mind poured into me by the Holy Spirit sent from God to women and men who believe the foolishness of the cross.

With the psalmist I cry out! Open my mouth and sing at the top of my lungs! Thank you! My Jesus!Who now sits at the right hand of the throne of God! Consequently, He is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through Him, since He always lives to make intercession for them! Hebrews 7  (Italics, mine)

There is, therefore, no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus.  Romans 12

The cross, the cross, the wonderful cross.

PSALM 109 - Just Wait Until Your Father Gets Home!

Lord, my God, help me! Because You are loving, save me. Then they will know that Your power has done this. They will know that You have done it, Lord. They may curse me, but You bless me. They may attack me, but they will be disgraced. Then I, Your servant, will be glad. Let those who accuse me be disgraced and covered with shame like a coat. (Verses 26-29)

"..he who touches you hurts what is precious to ME." God, Zechariah 2

I am so glad that when I'm in trouble I don't have to remind God about how good and godly I am. I don't have to remind Him of all the times I've sacrificed in order to tithe, the number of people I've told about Jesus, the many days I've fasted and prayed. It wouldn't be enough. I'm just not that good. I'd have to be perfect for my God to come to my rescue based upon my righteousness. Good thing He hears me because He loves me.

My mother used to call me "Precious." In the years of my growing up, I never paid much attention to all that meant. I was used to it. In fact, I think it wasn't until I told one of my best friends about seeing Mother's face float before me on the day of her funeral that I grasped how meaningful it was. My friend and I were sitting in a hotel room in Austin, Texas, reminiscing about our college days and catching up on the years since we'd been together when I told her about Mother's death. I ended the story with Mother's words to me in the vision of her. "It's all right, Precious. It's all right." Tears were swimming in my eyes as they always do when I remember the moment. Tears were also running down the cheeks of my friend. I was thinking the visitation from my mother was the thing stirring her so. But, ever honest, she said, "No. It's that she called you 'precious.' My mother never said anything like that to me."

What's it mean to be so to someone? Precious: Rare. Of great value. Highly esteemed. Valued for some immaterial, spiritual or moral quality. That is what I was to my mother. As a parent, I get it now. More precious than anything on earth are my children to me. I, like my mother, tell them that on a regular basis. And when they want me, they don't call and say, "You know I've been a great kid. I've rarely disobeyed and, actually, you owe it to me to meet my need." Not only is that unnecessary, it's insulting. To try to garner my help based on how good they've been instead of asking for it because they know I love them is asking based on a much lesser motive. If they need me, I'm there! Simply because they are precious to me.

The psalmist knew this. Knew to ask God's help based upon His love. It motivates our God in the same way it does any good father. It's not something we think of often, but those who wrong us might just want to watch out. Vengeance belongs to the Lord, and when it comes to His kids, He isn't willing to let them be treated poorly for long. And even when it looks like the enemy wins, let a little time pass and see. There have been several times in my life when "what came around went around" in a way that could only be my Father's doing. When I'm hurt to the core, so is He. Never think our Father turns His head while we go through the fire. And if the fire is part of the plan, He will walk around in it with us!

Preciousness takes off the coat of shame we might be wearing. When we know that we are indeed a rare jewel, a coveted treasure and a valuable child to our heavenly Father, we must trade shame for wonder. Adopted into His family at unfathomable cost to Him, the Father isn't willing to let us be toyed with and crushed. Zechariah continues his vision of God in Chapter 2 this way: "Be silent, everyone, in the presence of the Lord! He is coming out of the holy place where He lives!"
Sounds a little like, "Just wait until your father gets home!" Calling out to the Most High God, Who is also our Father, is a big deal. He's made it so. Expect Him to save you.

He says, "Don't be afraid, because I have saved you. I have called you by name, and you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you. When you cross rivers, you will not drown. When you walk through fire, you will not be burned, nor will the flames hurt you. This is because I, the Lord, am your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior...Because you are precious to Me, because I give you honor and love you, I will give other people in your place. I will give other nations to save your life...I have always been God. No one can save people from My power. When I do something, no one can change it!" Isaiah 43

That's my Abba!

PSALM 109 - What in the World Are You Doing Here?

But You, O Lord, be kind to me so others will know You are good. Because Your love is good, save me. I am poor and helpless and very sad. I am dying like an evening shadow. I am shaken off like a locust. My knees are weak from hunger, and I have grown thin. My enemies insult me. They look at me and shake their heads.  (Verses 21-25)

 Understand this: If the enemy is trying to fight you, he's also trying to fight your God. So stand firm. You are not alone in this.  Pastor T. D. Jakes

Elijah had just seen the Almighty God reveal Himself in fire, consuming not only the sacrifice before Him, but the wood, stones and dust as well as "licking up the water that was in the trench." The prophets of Baal tried for hours to persuade their gods to show themselves. To no avail. But Elijah's God answered immediately when Elijah prayed: "Let it be known this day that you are God in Israel, and that I am your servant!" Whoosh! The absolute obliteration of the water-soaked altar and all that was around it. Drought was the issue. No rain for years. And nothing in that moment still but clear blue skies. Elijah declared to King Ahab that there would be rain soon, then the prophet took his servant to the top of Mount Carmel where he bowed down with his face between his knees and prayed for rain. To his servant he said, "Go look out toward the sea and tell me what is there." Nothing. Seven times Elijah repeated this. Finally, "There is a little cloud the size of a man's hand rising from the sea, sir." And the sky grew black with clouds and wind and a deluge followed. God was faithful to do what He said. Elijah, a mighty man of faith. So why did he find himself running scared into the desert?

Mad that her prophets of Baal were slaughtered on Mount Carmel, Queen Jezebel swore to kill Elijah. He was afraid of her and ran. Even after what he'd just seen God do. Surely Elijah was weary, emotionally drained and just not up for one more battle. A day's journey out into the wilderness, he sat down under a big tree and prayed to die. "I've had enough, Lord. Just kill me." Then he fell asleep. An angel fed him. And he slept some more. When he awoke, the angel was there with more food and the message, "Get up and eat because you have a long journey." Yeah. Forty days and forty nights to Mount Horeb where God wanted a tete a tete. A hard journey. Almost too great for him.

"What are you doing here, Elijah?" God's question to the wiry prophet holed up in a mountain top cave.

"I'm so sick of the people who crush Your altars and kill the prophets! They've forsaken You and I'm the only one left...the only prophet in Israel, and now they are going to kill me, too!"

"Go out and stand on the mountain before Me," said the Lord. A terrifying wind tore the mountain and broke the rocks around Elijah. But God wasn't in it. After that the mountain began shaking violently, the ground beneath the prophets feet shifting and perilous. But God wasn't in that, either. Fire erupted, shooting flames very near Elijah on the broken rocks. But God wasn't there, either. It was the sound of a low whisper that finally caused the prophet to cover his face in terror and stand trembling at the entrance of his hiding place. "What are you doing here, Elijah?" The low-toned whisper of His God.

Again the whining response. I think as I write that surely I wouldn't be giving God the same answer to a question He asks me the second time. I'd have understood the massive display of His power, not only on Mount Horeb, but also on Mount Carmel. And angels feeding, me! I mean, really! But Elijah knew his God. Answered once more, "I'm all alone here."

God didn't address the whining. If Elijah didn't know what he was doing in the cave, God did. Instead of saying, "You poor thing. So sorry I put you into such a harrowing position," He said, "You're not done." And God told Elijah what to do next. Including giving Elisha to him as an apprentice. The prophet who would take his place. "And, by the way, Elijah," continued the Lord. "There are seven thousand people in Israel who haven't bowed down to Baal or kissed his statue."

I have been crushed by life. Many of us have. Skinny from the warfare. Barely able to stand. Once confident and lively, I have also felt that I was thrown off in shame as if I were a grasshopper whose legs had attached irritatingly to someone's blouse. Heartbroken, poor and needy. Emptied of former joy. Seeing life as a shadow, vacuous and thin. And I ran, too. Whining my misery. Self-talk that aided my ability to feel sorry for myself. Isolated me. Here's the thing. I'd seen God do the miraculous. Knew Him to be faithful. I'd seen the impossibly blue sky turn to the rain for which I'd prayed. Led many people from the feet of their Baals to the throne of my God. So what was I doing in despair?

Perhaps Elijah was growing accustomed to God showing up in the big showy miracles. Fire from heaven and the raising of a widow's son from the dead. Called to bring the people of God to a place of repentance, which didn't even happen after the fiery altar was consumed, Elijah thought he'd failed. No big revival. No mass conviction of sin. Only he loved God anymore. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much God did to prove Himself, the people just wouldn't listen. But God...not always in the fire, earthquake or wind...speaks the whisper that makes us tremble. The reminder He is there speaking, and He doesn't need the show. He simply needs our ear.

Perhaps in the desert in which I found myself, running off my desolation, always beating my path to nowhere with my God running in step along with me, it would have been prudent to pause away from the trembling mountains and blazing fires to contemplate how powerful He is and always has been. To stop. Dead still. And listen to Him. To realize it's not my battles I'm fighting, but His. To understand that I'm not responsible for the victories or for the results. He is. And if I'm weary and despondent, I've forgotten that God doesn't want to be about shaking mountains and licking up fire from the altars of my righteousness. He wants relationship. To whisper His will and confirm His presence. I will grow weary thinking how I will live day to day in this world that's so difficult to navigate if I think God's counting on me to do it in my own power. On Mount Horeb, the only truly awesome thing Elijah experienced, what made him hide his face, was the whisper of His God. More powerful, more ominous, more awe-inspiring than the fiercest storm. The God of All gently asking, "What are you doing here?"

 

PSALM 109 - That Kiss! That Kiss!

Appoint a wicked man against him. Let an accuser stand at his right hand. When he is tried, let him come forth guilty. Let his prayer be counted as sin! May his days be few and may another take his office. May his children be fatherless and his wife a widow! May his children wander about and beg, seeking food from the ruins they inhabit! May the creditor seize all that he has. May strangers plunder the fruits of his toil!...May his posterity be cut off. May his name be blotted out in the second generation! May the sins of his fathers be remembered before the Lord and let not the sin of his mother be blotted out! Let them be continually before the Lord, that He may cut off the memory of them from the earth! Because he did not remember to show kindness, but pursued the poor and needy and the brokenhearted to put them to death.
(Verses 6-11;13-16)

"The Son of Man goes as it is written of Him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that man if he had not been born." Judas, who would betray Him, asked, "Is it I, Lord?" He said to him, "You have said so." Matthew 26

That Passover evening only Jesus knew it was the last time He'd be with the disciples in quite this way. He'd be dead in the next few hours, crucified and desolate. Betrayed by one of the men He'd loved and prayed with. His work would be finished. The ultimate Passover Lamb sacrificed for these fishermen and tax collectors, for the sons of thunder, and doubting Thomas. Jesus knew each  man intimately. The sound of their voices. The smell of their sweat. Their wives and children. Their hopes and dreams. And after this night, nothing would ever be the same between them. His time on earth completed. They would all be different tomorrow. So this night was the Master's farewell.

Jesus got up from the Passover dinner and took off His coat. He took the towel, placed by the washbowl, and tied it around His waist. The disciples, busy with dinner chatter, didn't really notice Jesus until He poured water into the basin and carried it over to them. The sight of Him silenced the group. What in the world is He doing? Jesus knelt then. Took the foot of Thomas, maybe, as it lay stretched out in front of him while he reclined to eat on the floor. One by one, Jesus dipped the feet of the disciples into the clean water then wiped them with the towel that hung from His waist. When Jesus finished the foot washing, He sat back and said to them, "Not all of you are clean." He didn't look at Judas. But Judas knew. He'd known for quite some time. Money was his god. He'd been stealing from the offerings given to the twelve. Thought ministry was for gain. Believed Jesus was going to be some big ruler and he'd be in on the ground floor. But things hadn't worked out that way. So when the Jewish leaders offered a bounty to the one who brought Jesus in, Judas negotiated for thirty pieces of silver. After all, he'd given up his job to follow the man. And for what? Everyone following Him blindly. They'd become hunted along with Jesus. Judas wasn't about to lose his head because He followed some Nazarene Who promised a kingdom that was never going to manifest. He was done with it.

"One of you is going to betray Me." Jesus looked around the table at all of them. It was on His heart. It had to have been. How could they see what they'd seen--the blind eyes opened, the deaf able to hear, the brokenhearted salved, the demon-possessed freed, the hungry fed, the seas calmed and the dead raised--and still not know? Still not love Him? Jesus human, with a heart like ours. Surely He mourned the traitor. "I will dip the bread into wine and give the man a bite." And the eyes of Jesus turned in pain to the steady gaze of Judas. "Go do what you have to do," Jesus whispered. And His betrayer crept into the night.

The others didn't understand. Jesus frequently sent Judas out to purchase necessities for the group. Thought that's where he was going. But with every footfall, Judas was closer to the riches that already burned a whole in his moneybag. Obsessed with what he'd spend it on. Tired of walking all over the countryside living like a beggar. Assured in his heart that Jesus wasn't ever going to be king of anything. Agreeing with the accusations that had started early on in his head. The enemy of his soul prepping the son of Simon Iscariot to believe a lie about the Son of God, to plant so deeply within him a sense of his own entitlement that Judas was willing to kill the One Who loved him. Satan found a patsy in the group. Laughed as the pitiful thing panted for his prize as he ran down the streets of Jerusalem on Passover night. A pawn in the plan to destroy God's Son. Better had he never been born.

Judas assembled some men from the temple guard. Gave them instructions. "The one I will kiss is the man. Seize him and lead him away under guard. Are we clear on this?" And they went across the Kidron Brook.

The Garden of Gethsemane was a favorite place for Jesus. He and the twelve often went there to talk and pray. Judas knew He'd be there.  It suddenly flooded with light as soldiers carrying weapons accompanied the officers from the chief priests and the Pharisees. Jesus was sweating with the anguish of His prayers while the disciples lay sleeping nearby. Awakened by the noise, confused by the troops, the men rose quickly to their feet and were perplexed to see Judas standing there. Everything stopped. Seemed like time itself stood still. Before they could gather their thoughts, Jesus stepped out of the darkness. Judas came toward Jesus. The torch light followed him, lighting his face, revealing a half-smile, not sinister. Playing his part coolly. Having to look into the eyes of Jesus should have made betrayal more difficult, but the heart of Judas was hardened to his cause. The voice of the enemy loud in his ears. The jangle of money hot in his pocket. "Rabbi!" Judas exclaimed as if meeting a beloved friend. As he approached Jesus, ready to embrace Him, Jesus said with a hint of wonder in His voice, "Would you betray Me with a kiss, Judas?" Cynical. Deceived. No answer but his lips on the cheek of Jesus

"Friend, do what you came to do," Jesus whispered into the traitor's ear. And Judas melted into the chaos that ensued. Ran away into the darkness with coins jingling the rhythm of his retreat against his aching thigh. It wasn't until the next morning when Jesus was condemned to death that Judas understood the consequences of his devilish plan. What did he think would happen? Was he so blinded by the purse that he couldn't see beyond it? Hunkering back in the crowd the next morning, Judas was there when Jesus was brought out by the chief priests bound and headed to Pilate for a declaration of his guilt and a sentence of death. Satan left him then. Allowed him to bear the ramifications of his own guilt. No blinders. Just sneering demons and the stench of hell. And Judas came to himself. Realized what he'd done. Flooded with memories of meals together, parables on the hillside, slaps on the back, fish overflowing nets, wine at weddings and the question from the night before, "Would you betray me with a kiss?"

He hung himself then. Tried to give the money back. The priests wouldn't take it. Blood money. Too righteous to take back the money they'd given in their hatred. Bought a cemetery for strangers. Judas sold his soul for thirty pieces of silver. Betrayed the God of the Universe. But here is what I know. He could've been forgiven. Had he not gone so far past repentance. Had he really understood Who he betrayed. Because Peter was also standing there in the same courtyard when the priests brought Jesus handcuffed out into the early ember-scented morning. Saw the sorrow in His eyes. Understood the depth of his betrayal. Both men not worth keeping as friends. Miserably self-centered. Disappointing and weak. And Jesus knew they were flesh. Knew the enemy is a liar. Knew the cross would change all that. Went on into Pilate's quarters when He could've called ten thousand legions of angels to rescue Him. Understood when He looked into the eyes of the two men He'd chosen to be His closest friends that unless He paid for the sins of the night, they'd forever be locked in the chains of the enemy.

We are doomed as the enemy of the psalmist must be. It is the right judgment on us. Sinners by nature. Selfish to the core. The risen Lord set things right for Judas and for us. Made a way for Peter to live the life he couldn't live. So that there is no sin too great for His blood to wash away. No pit too deep for Him to rescue us from. No lie too entrenched for Him to undo.  When we were unable to help ourselves, at the moment of our need, Christ died for us, although we were living against God. Very few people will die to save the life of someone else. Although perhaps for a good person someone might die. But God shows His great love for us this way: Christ died for us while we were still sinners. So through Christ we will surely be saved from God's anger, because we've been made right with God by the blood of Christ's death (Romans 5).

There is nothing His blood cannot cleanse. Nothing. It is holy, sacrificial Lamb's blood. It purchases forgiveness for everything or nothing, for it's priceless. If you think you've gone too far, you're eons out of His reach, you've listened too long to the tapes recorded in your mind, produced and directed by the enemy of your soul, turn back. Run to Him as Peter did. Jesus wouldn't have given up on Judas. The final lie he believed doomed him to death just hours before the Truth was to set Him free.






 

PSALM 109 - The Ring of Fire

God, I praise You. Do not be silent. Wicked people and liars have spoken against me. They have told lies about me. They have said hateful things about me and attack me for no reason. They attacked me even though I loved them and prayed for them. I was good to them, but they repay me with evil. I loved them, but they hate me in return.  (Verses 1-5)

Peter. Jesus named him that. Because he was a rock. Solid. Just the kind of man Jesus knew would obstinately follow Him anywhere. "You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God!" Peter had proclaimed it. Verbalized it before the rest even had the depth of understanding to grasp exactly Who this Man they followed really was. "Flesh and blood didn't reveal this to you, Peter. My Father showed you this. You are a rock. And on this rock, I'll build my church."

I'm a rock! Jesus named me Rock. Cool. And so Peter tried to fulfill the name. Walking on water. Trying on the moniker. "Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to test all of you as a farmer sifts wheat. I have prayed that you will not lose your faith! Help your brothers be stronger when you come back to Me."

Come back to Him? What? "I'm ready to go to prison or even die with You!" Come back to Him. I'm not going anywhere!

"Three times, Peter, you are going to deny you even know me before sunup tomorrow."

To prove he wasn't lying, Peter drew his sword in the Garden of Gethsemane. Judas was there, kissing Jesus. The kiss of death, confusing and swift. Jesus was surrounded by armed men ready to take Him away. "Lord, should I kill these guys?" Peter, in the process drawing one of the two swords the disciples had brought with them. Malchus, one of the guards of the high priest was near. Ready to grab Jesus. Almost without thinking, Peter sliced off his ear.

"Stop!" cried Jesus. "Enough!" And He picked up the ear from the garden's dewy grass and put it back in place on the servant's head. Perplexing to Peter. Trying to live up to his name. To be the support Jesus needed. And he somehow got it wrong.

Peter followed at a distance when all but John and he fled the garden in fear for their own lives. The soldiers started a fire in the courtyard and waited. Peter sidled over for the warmth. "Hey, that man was with them!" said a girl as she came near to look him in the face.

"Woman, I don't even know Him." Peter's stomach churned with the lie.

Not long afterward another person recognized Peter as a disciple as he walked near the circle of blazing coals. "You were one of them." The man peered into the disciple's eyes, searched them. "Man, I'm not!" Firm. A rock now cracked.

A group of men strolled close an hour or so later. Peter was still sitting there. Conflicted. Wanting to be something he now knew he clearly wasn't. How could he have denied even knowing Jesus? What had gotten into him? "For sure this man was with Him! Look, he's from Galilee, too!" said one of the men as they came near Peter, trapping him in the ring they formed around him. He felt unable to breathe. Stood and pushed them away. He cursed at them, then declared too loudly, "Man, I don't even know what you're talking about!"

Then the rooster crowed. Heralding daylight. In the commotion, Peter missed it. Jesus being led out of His inquisition by guards. The words of denial had barely left his mouth when he turned to Jesus, stopped still for a moment. Looking at him as he cursed and screamed his betrayal. Their eyes locked. And the Rock was crushed into powder. Ran and hid. The pain of understanding he is just a man, capable of the most cruel behavior, wanting to save his own hide rather than be faithful to the One Who loved Him and prayed for him sent Peter away, crying hysterically. Shamed beyond bearing. Jesus heard his every word. How could Simon ever be Peter again?

I suppose knowing that Peter was going to betray Him didn't make it hurt less when Jesus caught the glimpse of his disciple angrily disowning their friendship. I guess the best that could be said of Peter is that at least he and John followed. Peter thought he had what it took to be a rock. Satan had spoken to Jesus about him. Let's see what he's really made of. A rock...pshaw! He's not even a pebble.

Not there for the moment of His death, too ashamed to look on a suffering Savior. Peter alone somewhere, disgusted with himself, anguishing not only over the depth of his betrayal, but also over the pain he'd caused Jesus. How could Jesus ever look him in the face again? Wailing in the earthquake, shivering in the darkness, Simon was only Simon. Nothing more.

Sunday morning. In the garden tomb. A group of women approach the entrance and discover the stone rolled away. An angel sitting there. They were scared to death. Couldn't move. Couldn't fathom what they saw. "Don't be afraid. You are looking for Jesus from Nazareth, Who has been crucified. He has risen from the dead. He isn't here." The angel moved aside and showed them the empty cave. "See! That's where they laid Him." As the women marveled, the angel told them, "Now go and tell His followers...and Peter."

And Peter. Singled out not by his denial. Not called Simon. Go tell the rock he's still a rock. Jesus deemed it so and Satan can't steal from us what God has called us to be. Not when Jesus is praying against our enemy. At the seaside eating fish many days later, Jesus says: "Simon, do you love me? The way I love you? With agape?"

"You know you are my dear, dear friend," replied Simon. Not yet ready to be Peter and declare undying devotion. Knowing by then he's not all that! Capable of sin. Capable of shame.

Three times he's asked the question. Three times Jesus makes him say, "I love you." Three denials. Three affirmations. "Peter, follow me." 

And he will. To his own crucifixion. But not before the church is built. Not until the Spirit has come to indwell a bawdy fisherman with a big heart, a big mouth and a bigger destiny. Saved because Jesus said, "..and Peter."

And...me.  And...you. Incapable of living authentically without Him. Only able to be what He knows we can be because He's named us something different than what our lives have defined us to be. Clinging to what we always have been instead of embracing who He says we are. But Jesus has called my name. Reached past my stuff to say I can be more. Forgiven the days I turned away while my Savior watched my unfaithfulness. Let me cry my remorse. Accentuated in the darkness, trying to hide from the eyes that find me even there. How could Jesus then reach to me in love? Call me by my name? Embrace me as His own? "Follow Me." It's all I want to do.