Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me (Psalm 51:12).

Boy, that David.  It’s all gimme, gimme, gimme with him, isn’t it?

Forgive my sins!

Cleanse me with hyssop!

Create in me a pure heart!

Stay close to me!

Restore my joy!

Renew my spirit!

Yep, David asks and asks and asks…

And God gives and gives and gives.

Remember that, Beloved.

Happy Thursday

Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me (Psalm 51:10).

David gets it.

He doesn’t make any excuses before God, and he doesn’t make any promises he knows he can’t keep.  I mean, some of us—and by us, I mean me—would be tempted to tell God all about how we’re going to do better, try harder, be more.  We would try to convince God that, if he would just give us a second chance—or third, or eighty-seventh—we wouldn’t disappoint him.  David knows that’s bunk. He will never be clean unless God cleans him. He will never be reliable unless God builds that in him. He will never be of any use to God unless God does the work through him.

Yep, David gets it.

Do we?

Happy Tuesday, Beloved.

It was he who gave some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers, to prepare God’s people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God (Eph. 4:12-13).

There’s that “Unity” word again.

Seems to be important to the Lord of the Universe, so I guess we’d better pay attention.

Now, everybody has widely differing ideas about what unity is and what we should be unified on, which can lead to a breakdown in relationships and division in the Church.

That was a joke…but only kinda.

There’s an oft-quoted approach to the idea of unity, that I think covers it pretty well:

In essentials, unity.

In non essentials, liberty.

In all things, charity.

Unity in the faith…that seems essential.

Unity in knowing Jesus as the Son of God and the source of our salvation…yep…essential.

Unity in the structure of a small group…not so much an essential.

Unity in worship music style…nope.

Unity in Sunday Morning Dress Code…huh uh.

Unity in the brand of Communion cracker and relative levels of gluten…

I’ll get back to you on that.

There’s a big picture, Beloved.

Keep your eyes on it.

Happy Tuesday

It was he who gave some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers, to prepare God’s people for works of service… (Eph. 4:11-12).

Their job is to teach us to do our job.

Their job is not to do our job.

Because…it’s our job.

Let’s do it.

Happy Monday, Beloved.

But to each one of us grace has been given as Christ apportioned it (Ephesians 4:7).

Yeah, so, I was supposed to be this great evangelist.

Apparently Jesus didn’t get the memo.

Which is a bummer for Christendom, because I would have been awesome. Picture thousands of people packing the auditoriums, hearing my words, craving my wisdom, buying my books, cheering my name…

Oh.

Maybe Jesus knows better than I do…

There’s no “maybe” about it.

Happy Friday, Beloved.

Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace (Eph. 4:3).

Father, make us one.

Father, make us one.

So the world may know you have sent your Son,

Father, make us one.

Amen, Beloved?

Happy Wednesday

…God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8)

It’s Valentine’s Day, right?

OK, so let’s talk love.

Forget the hearts and flowers.  Forget the candy.

OK, remember the candy.  Candy is good. But set it aside for the moment.

Seriously–put the candy down.

Real love sacrifices.  Real love gives, even when there is no reasonable expectation of a return on the investment.  Real love sees you at your worst, and does not turn away.

While we were still sinners.  While we were totally unworthy and unlovable.  Beyond pot bellies and vanishing hairlines. Beyond bad hair and no makeup.  While we were steeped in darkness, inside and out, Jesus died for us.

For you.

Want him to prove his love?

He did.  We call it the Cross.

When I write these One-a-Days, I often call you “Beloved.”  I’m not putting the moves on you, nor am I trying to be J. Vernon McGee. I’m praying, along with Paul, that you, “May…grasp how high and long and wide and deep is the love of Christ.”

In the Song of Songs, God gives us a picture of the love between a man and a woman.  Beyond that, though, he paints a picture of Christ’s love for his Church.

He calls the Church his Beloved.

He calls you his Beloved.

And so you are.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Beloved.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine, according to the power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus…(Eph. 3:20-21).

Jesus brings glory to the Father.

Now this makes sense to me.

The Son, who has power and wisdom and authority beyond all measure or comprehension, willingly set it aside out of obedience to the Father. He chose to make the Father’s will his own, and to follow the Father’s plan even when it led him, quite literally, to the gates of hell.

Because he loves his Father.

Because he loves his Father’s children.

Yep, I would imagine that brings glory to God.

Happy Tuesday, Beloved

Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain.

Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchmen stand guard in vain.

In vain you rise early and stay up late, for he grants sleep to those he loves.  (Ps 127:1-2)

There’s no use denying it—I’ve got the crud.  For the last 24 hours, I have hardly stirred from my big green chair.  I have slept, eaten, napped, watched TV, snoozed, scrolled aimlessly through Facebook, slumbered, and slept.

I’ve been sick.

There are no spectacular symptoms I can point you to.  No raging fever, no projectile vomiting, no delirium—at least, none that I’ve noticed. I’m not bleeding, either internally or externally.  Neither pox nor pustules are in ready evidence. It’s just a cold.

Frankly, I almost wish I had some better symptoms.It would kind of justify the time I’ve been out of commission.  When you tell someone that you’re sick, they invariably respond with some variation of, “Oh, I’m so sorry. What’s wrong?  Is it your stomach? Is it your head?” It’s great to have a solid response, like “Yeah, it’s my head. I’ve been bleeding from the eyes for several days now…fever’s at about 107,” or, “It’s weird…I’m covered head to toe in some kind of itchy purple fungus.  The doctor gave me some ointment, and that seems to be helping…”

Instead, I’m stuck with, “It’s just a really bad cold.”  See, even to you I had to add the “really.” And I qualified the statement with a “just,” as though to admit that I know I sound like a punk. And you may say, “Oh, that’s rough.  I know what that’s like,” but inside you’re thinking

“Wimp!”

“Lazy bum!”

“Weenie boy!”

“Haul your bacon out of bed and get something done!”

Well, maybe you’re not thinking that, but I am.  Because I’ll tell you, Charles Ingalls wouldn’t have called in sick today.  Virus? Ppfeh! That man worked a full-time job at the mill and ran a farm. Weekends?  That’s when he worked in his barn, hand-crafting furniture to put in the house he built by himself.

My plan for today is…maybe…to change from pajamas to sweats.

It’s humbling to be sick.  Frankly, I think that’s one reason God allows it. The occasional virus serves as a reminder that, not only is life not all about me, it’s not up to me.

Unless the Lord builds the house

its builders labor in vain.

Unless the Lord watches over the city

the watchmen stand guard in vain.

In vain you rise early and stay up late,

for he grants sleep to those he loves.  (Ps 127:1-2)

I don’t know about you, but I can get way too caught up in my own importance.  It’s not that I don’t matter. As a husband, and a father, and a teacher, God has given me very important duties.  My problem (and I suspect yours, though I’m too polite and subtle to mention it) is that I start to think that I alone can and must accomplish all that has been set before me.  Though I don’t forget God, I do sometimes relegate him to the position of cheerleader. Of course, it’s when I think I have to accomplish everything that I feel most powerless. When I let myself rest, or when plague forces it on me, I am reminded that there is a God who is knowledgeable, capable, and on my side.

Hmmm.

I’m going back to sleep.

Happy Thursday, Beloved