“When He Has Come”

When He has come, He will convict the world of sin . . . —John 16:8

Very few of us know anything about conviction of sin. We know the experience of being disturbed because we have done wrong things. But conviction of sin by the Holy Spirit blots out every relationship on earth and makes us aware of only one— “Against You, You only, have I sinned . . .” (Psalm 51:4). When a person is convicted of sin in this way, he knows with every bit of his conscience that God would not dare to forgive him. If God did forgive him, then this person would have a stronger sense of justice than God. God does forgive, but it cost the breaking of His heart with grief in the death of Christ to enable Him to do so. The great miracle of the grace of God is that He forgives sin, and it is the death of Jesus Christ alone that enables the divine nature to forgive and to remain true to itself in doing so. It is shallow nonsense to say that God forgives us because He is love. Once we have been convicted of sin, we will never say this again. The love of God means Calvary— nothing less! The love of God is spelled out on the Cross and nowhere else. The only basis for which God can forgive me is the Cross of Christ. It is there that His conscience is satisfied.

Forgiveness doesn’t merely mean that I am saved from hell and have been made ready for heaven (no one would accept forgiveness on that level). Forgiveness means that I am forgiven into a newly created relationship which identifies me with God in Christ. The miracle of redemption is that God turns me, the unholy one, into the standard of Himself, the Holy One. He does this by putting into me a new nature, the nature of Jesus Christ.

http://utmost.org/when-he-has-come/

 

Nowhere To Hide

I smelled something burning, so I hurried to the kitchen. Nothing was on the stove or in the oven. I followed my nose through the house. From room to room I went, eventually ending up downstairs. My nose led me to my office and then to my desk. I peeked beneath it and there, peering back at me with big eyes pleading for help, was Maggie, our dog, our very “fragrant” dog. What smelled like something burning when I was upstairs, now had the distinct odor of skunk. Maggie had gone to the farthest corner of our house to escape the foul smell, but she couldn’t get away from herself.

Maggie’s dilemma brought to mind the many times I have tried to run away from unpleasant circumstances only to discover that the problem was not the situation I was in but me. Since Adam and Eve hid after sinning (Gen. 3:8), we’ve all followed their example. We run away from situations thinking we can escape the unpleasantness—only to discover that the unpleasantness is us.

The only way to escape ourselves is to stop hiding, acknowledge our waywardness, and let Jesus wash us clean (Rev. 1:5). I am grateful that when we do sin, Jesus is willing to give us a brand-new start.

From the wondrous cross on Calvary Flows the stream that still avails, Cleansing hearts and bringing victory Through that love which never fails. —Elliott

Sin’s contamination requires the Savior’s cleansing.

http://odb.org/2012/11/14/nowhere-to-hide/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+odb%2Ffeed+%28Our+Daily+Bread%29

The Offense of the Cross

Then is the offense of the cross ceased–Gal 5:11

Paul Longed for the Salvation of the Jews

One thing which marks the ministry of Paul is how he lovingly yearned over the Jews. With a quenchless and intense desire, he prayed that they might be brought into the fold. Never did mother so long for the saving of her son as Paul longed for the saving of his countrymen. He was willing to suffer anything or everything, if only his people Israel might be won.

It is when we remember that deep longing that we realize what the cross meant for Paul. For the great stumbling block of faith to the Jews–the offense that made the Gospel of Christ smell rank to them–was, as our text indicates, the cross. Take that away, and it would be a thousand times more easy to win the Jews to the acceptance of the Lord. Say nothing about that, just slur it over, and you would take half the difficulty out of the way of Israel. Yet in spite of his yearning to see Israel saved, that was the one theme which Paul would not ignore. God forbid, he says, that I should glory save in the cross of Jesus Christ my Lord. There is a great lesson there for Christian teachers and for all who are trying to advance Christ’s kingdom. The more earnest and eager they are to have men saved, the more willing are they to go to all lengths to meet them. And that is right, for we must be all things to all men–to the Jews as a Jew, to the Romans as a Roman; but remember there are a few great facts we cannot yield, though they run counter to the whole spirit of the age. It were better to empty a church and preach the cross than to fill it by keeping silence like a coward. It were better to fail as Paul failed with the Jews than to succeed by being a traitor to the cross. Religion can never be a pleasant entertainment. When the offense of the cross ceases, it is lost.

The Cross an Offense to the Jews

Now I want to make it a little plainer to you why the cross was an offense to the Jews and to put things in such a way that you may see at once that the same causes are operative still.

It Blighted All Their Hopes

First then, the cross was offensive to the Jews just because it blighted all their hopes. It shattered every dream they ever dreamed, every ideal that ever glimmered on them. No telegram of news full of disaster, plunging a man into unlooked-for poverty–no sudden death of one to whom the heart clings, laying a man’s life in ruins at his feet–not these more certainly shatter a man’s hopes than did the cross the vision of the Jews. They had prayed for and had dreamed of their Messiah, and He was to come in power as a conqueror. “Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight”–you can almost hear the tramp of victorious feet. That was the light which burned in the Jewish darkness; that was the song which made music in their hearts. Then in the place of that triumph, there comes Calvary. In place of the Christ victorious, Christ crucified. And was this the Messiah who was to trample Rome, pierced in hands and feet by Roman nails? To the Jews a stumbling block: you cannot wonder at it when every hope they had formed was contradicted. Yet in spite of it all Paul preached Christ crucified, and that was the offense of the cross.

Now I venture to say that that offense of Calvary is just as powerful now as it was then. If I know anything about the ideals men cherish now and about the hopes that are regnant in ten thousand hearts, they are as antagonistic to the cross as was the Jewish ideal of Messiah. Written across Calvary is sacrifice; written across this age of ours is pleasure. On the lips of Christ are the stem words, I must die. On the lips of this age of ours, I must enjoy. And it is when I think of the passion to be rich and the judgment of everything by money standards; of the feverish desire at all costs to be happy, of the frivolity, of the worship of success; it is when I think of that and then contrast it with the “pale and solemn scene” upon that hill that I know that the offense of Calvary is not ceased. Unto the Jews a stumbling block–unto far more than the Jews: unto a pleasure-loving world and a dead church. Therefore say nothing about it; let it be; make everything interesting, pleasant, easy. Then is the offense of the cross ceased–and with it the power of the Gospel.

Second, the cross was an offense to the Jews because it swept away much that they took pride in. If there was any meaning in Calvary at all, some of their most cherished things were valueless. The Jews were preeminently a religious people, and this is always one peril of religious people. It is to take the things that lead to God and let the heart grow centered upon them. There was the ceremonial law for instance, with its scrupulous abhorrence of defilements. No one who has not studied the whole matter can ever know what that meant to the Jew. And there were the sacrifices smoking upon their altars, and the feasts and festivals and journeys to Jerusalem. And there was the temple, that magnificent building, sign of their hope and symbol of their unity. At least let this be said of that old people, that if they were proud, they were proud of worthy things. It is better to be proud of law and temple than to be proud of battleship and millionaire. Yet all that pride, religious though it was–that pride, deep-rooted as the people’s life–all that was swept away like autumn leaves if there was any meaning in the cross. No more would the eyes of men turn to Jerusalem, no more would sacrifices fill the altars, no more was there room for ceremonial law if the Son of God had died upon the tree. And it was this crushing into the very dust of all that was dearest to the Jewish heart that was so bitter an offense of Calvary.

A Man Must Come with Empty Hands

And today has that offense of the cross ceased? Has that stumbling block been removed out of the way? I say that this is still the offense of Calvary, that it cuts at the root of so much that we are proud of. Here is a woman who strives to do her duty. God bless her, she does it very bravely. Here is a student proud of his high gifts. God prosper him that he may use them well. But over against reliance upon duty and all attempts of the reason to give peace, there hangs the crucified Redeemer saying, “No man cometh unto the Father but by me.” Here is the offense of the cross in cultured ages. It is that a man must come with empty hands. He must come as one who knows his utter need of the pardoning mercy of Almighty God; and in an age like ours that leans upon its heritage and is proud of its magnificent achievement, that call to unconditional surrender is the offense of evangelical religion. We are all tempted to despise what we get freely. We like a little toil and sweat and travail. We measure the value of most things not by their own worth, but by all that it has cost us to procure them. And Calvary costs us nothing though it cost God everything; the love and the life of it are freely offered; and to a commercial age and a commercial city there is something suspicious and offensive there. Ah sirs, if I preached salvation by good works what an appreciative audience I could have. How it would appeal to many an eager heart! But I trample that temptation under foot, not that I love you less but that I love Christ more, and I pray that where the gospel is proclaimed, the offense of the cross of Christ may never cease. I do not believe that if you scratch a man you will find underneath his skin a Christian. I do not believe that if you do your best, all is well for time and for eternity. But I do believe–

Not the labors of my hands

Can fulfil Thy law’s demands;

Could my zeal no respite know,

Could my tears forever flow,

All for sin could not atone:

Thou must save, and Thou alone.

Third, the cross was an offense to the Jews because it obliterated national distinctions. It leveled at one blow those social barriers that were of such untold worth in Jewish eyes. It was supremely important that the Jews should stand apart; through their isolation God had educated them. They had had the bitter-sweet privilege of being lonely, and being lonely they had been ennobled. Unto them were committed the oracles of God; they were a chosen nation, a peculiar people. The covenants were theirs, theirs were the promises, the knowledge of the one true God was theirs; until at last, almost inevitably, there rose in the Jewish mind a certain separateness and a certain contempt, continually deepening, for all the other nations of mankind. They had no envy of the art of Greece. They were not awed by the majesty of Rome. Grecians and Romans, Persians and Assyrians –powerful, cultured, victorious –were but Gentiles. There is something almost sublime in the contempt with which that little nation viewed the world. Then came the cross and leveled all distinctions; it burst through all barriers of nationality. There was neither Jew nor Gentile, Greek nor barbarian, but Christ was all and in all. Let some wild savage from the farthest west come to the cross of Christ pleading for mercy, and he had nothing less to do and nothing more than the proudest Jew who was a child of Abraham. One feels in an instant the insult of it all, how it left the Jew defenseless in the wild. All he had clung to was gone; his vineyard-wall was shattered: he must live or die now in the windswept world. And this tremendous leveling of distinctions–this striking out Jew and writing in humanity–this, to the proud, reserved, and lonely people, was no small part of the offense of Calvary.

At the Cross, All Distinctions Are Obliterated

Now I would not have you imagine for a moment that Christ disregards all personal distinctions. If I sent you away harboring the thought that all who come to Christ get the same treatment, I should have done Him an unutterable wrong. In everything He did Christ was original because He was fresh from God into the world, but in no sphere was He so strikingly original as in the way in which He handled those who came to Him. So was it when He was on the earth; so is it now when He is hid with God. There is always some touch, some word, some discipline, that tells of an individual understanding. But in spite of all that and recognizing that, I say that this is the “scandal” of the cross, that there every distinction is obliterated, and men must be saved as lost or not at all. You remember the lady from a gentle home who went to hear the preaching of George Whitefield? And she listened in disgust to a great sermon and then, like Naaman, went away in a rage. “For it is perfectly intolerable,” she said, “that ladies like me should be spoken to just like a creature from the streets.” Quite so: it is perfectly intolerable–and that is the stumbling block of Calvary. Are you who may be cultured to your fingertips to be classed with the savage who cannot read or write ? It would be very pleasant to say No–but then were the offense of the cross ceased. A friend of mine who is a busy doctor in a thriving village not ten miles from Glasgow was called in the other day to see a patient who, as was plain at the first glance, was dying. And the doctor, a good Christian, said, “Friend, the best service I can do you is to ask, Have you made your peace with God?” Whereon the man, raising his wasted arm and piercing the questioner with awe-filled eyes, said, “Doctor, is it as bad as that?” I want to say it is always as bad as that. I want to say it to the brightest heart here. You do need pardon and peace with God in Christ as much as the wildest prodigal. Accept it. It is freely offered you. Say, “Thou, O Christ, art all I want.” And then, just as the wilderness will blossom, so will the offense of the cross become its glory.

http://devotionals.ochristian.com/george-h-morrison-devotional-sermons-devotional.shtml

 

Top of the List

“And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.” Luke 22:19

When my wife Martie says, “Could you run to the grocery store for me?” I always want to know what it is she wants me to get. After asking the question, my mind is usually already off to something else as she tells me the list: “Bananas, bread, bacon, milk, and butter.” Inevitably, I get to the store and pick up the bananas, bread, and bacon, but end up forgetting the other two things. When I get home, I’ve got to go all the way back to the store because I forgot the milk and butter.

Tell me I’m not alone! It’s easy to forget to pick up the clothes at the drycleaners, or even the kids at daycare. The point is, in our humanness we’re all prone to forget. And it gets worse with age! We get preoccupied and distracted.

Unfortunately it’s not just the little, everyday things that we forget. It’s easy to overlook the big things, like the peace in the midst of stress and the power against great odds that are both available to us through prayer. When we’re not having a good day, it’s easy to forget the joy of our salvation. We even forget the death of Jesus for us—the very reason that we can live with undefeatable hope and assurance. Which means that forgetting about Jesus may open the door of your heart to the tormentors of hopelessness and insecurity.

It’s hard to believe that Christians could ever forget Christ and Calvary. It’s at the heart of everything we have and believe. And yet, in the hours before the crucifixion at the Last Supper, Jesus warned the disciples that they might forget Him and His work on the cross for them. This seems remarkable to me, because the disciples watched Him do all sorts of miracles like restoring sight to the blind and even raising Lazarus from the dead! How could they ever forget Christ after seeing those events firsthand? Still, in Luke’s account of the Last Supper, he quotes Jesus as saying: “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19 ESV). In essence: Don’t forget Me! In Greek, the word remember means to deliberate—to keep it on your mind. And it is often used in the sense of remembering something for your good.

So, why is it good for us to remember Jesus and His work on the cross? Jesus knew that if we were to forget, we might lose our love for Him and be seduced into loving lesser and even harmful things. Without the cross continually before us, we might become bitter or angry when He allows suffering to come into our lives. We might forget that He suffered for us to accomplish great things and that deep in our suffering the hand of God is busy doing great things through our pain. Forgetting the agony of His death, we might begin to take sin lightly and think more of ourselves than we should!

There’s an old song that goes something like this: “The cross before me, the world behind me . . . No turning back, no turning back.” What are you doing to keep the cross of Christ on your mind? Make a list of the stuff you might forget, and check it twice. Are Jesus and His wonderful work for you on the top of the list?

YOUR JOURNEY…

• Pray and thank Christ that He knows what it is to suffer. Ask Him for His supernatural strength and peace to see you through trials you currently face.
• Set aside time each day this week to journal about what the cross of Christ means to you. Share some of your thoughts with at least one person.
• Read 1 Corinthians 11:17-34. Why is it important for Christians to participate in Communion?
• Visualize how your life would be different if you lived with Calvary at the forefront of your mind. What is the connection between your sin and Christ’s work on the cross?

http://getmorestrength.org/daily/top-of-the-list/

Tozer Devotional-Daily Following

Daily Following

A strange thing under the sun is crossless Christianity. The cross of Christendom is a no-cross, an ecclesiastical symbol. The cross of Christ is a place of death. Let each one be careful which cross he carries. And follow me. Now the glory begins to break in upon the soul that has just returned from Calvary. Follow me is an invitation, and a challenge, and a promise. The cross has been the end of a life and the beginning of a life. The life that ended there was a life of sin and slavery; the life that began there is a life of holiness and spiritual freedom. And follow me, He says, and faith runs on tiptoe to keep pace with the advancing light. Until we know the program of our risen Lord for all the years to come we can never know everything He meant when He invited us to follow Him. Each heart can have its own dream of fair worlds and new revelations, of the odyssey of the ransomed soul in the ages to come, but whoever follows Jesus will find at last that He has made the reality to outrun the dream.

http://www.cmalliance.org/devotions/tozer?id=666

God’s Glorious Grace by Mark D. Roberts

Ephesians 1:4-6

[In love] he predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will–to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves.

Ephesians 1:5-6

Three times in Ephesians 1:3-14 we find language that connects praise of God with God’s glory: “to the praise of his glorious grace” (1:6); “for the praise of his glory” (1:12); and “to the praise of his glory” (1:14). Verse 6 is distinctive because it refers to praise, not just of God’s glory, but of “the glory of his grace” (as the Greek might be translated more literally). What is God’s grace? And how is it glorious?

The grace of God is his unmerited favor. It is similar to God’s love, though grace emphasizes the fact that God’s goodness to us is not something we earn or deserve. It is given in light of God’s own grace-full nature.

God’s glory is that which makes God uniquely wonderful and exceptional. In Scripture, the glory of God is frequently revealed through brilliant light (for example, 1 Kings 8:10-11; Isa 60:1; Ezek 10:4; Luke 2:9; Heb 1:3). Yet God’s glory is also revealed through his saving actions. According to Ephesians 1:4-6, God’s glory is “seen” in the fact that he chose us and predestined us to be his children. Thus, God’s grace is glorious, not only because it is wonderful for us, but also because it reveals God’s own character as a giving and forgiving God.

Thus, as we meditate upon God’s grace, we are drawn to worship. We yearn to praise the glory of his grace. We lift up our words and songs of praise as a thankful and humble response to the God who has made us his own because he loves us and delights to be in relationship with us.

QUESTIONS FOR FURTHER REFLECTION: As you consider the glory of God’s grace, what thoughts or images come to mind? How can we experience God’s glorious grace?

PRAYER:

Marvelous grace of our loving Lord, Grace that exceeds our sin and our guilt! Yonder on Calvary’s mount outpoured, There where the blood of the Lamb was spilled.

Grace, grace, God’s grace,   Grace that will pardon and cleanse within;   Grace, grace, God’s grace,   Grace that is greater than all our sin.

Sin and despair, like the sea waves cold, Threaten the soul with infinite loss; Grace that is greater, yes, grace untold, Points to the refuge, the mighty cross.

Dark is the stain that we cannot hide. What can avail to wash it away? Look! There is flowing a crimson tide, Brighter than snow you may be today.

Marvelous, infinite, matchless grace, Freely bestowed on all who believe! You that are longing to see His face, Will you this moment His grace receive?

Grace, grace, God’s grace,   Grace that will pardon and cleanse within;   Grace, grace, God’s grace,   Grace that is greater than all our sin. Amen.

http://www.thehighcalling.org/reflection/gods-glorious-grace

“Who hath first given to Him, and it shall be recompensed unto him again” (Rom. xi. 35).

The Christian women of the world have it in their power, by a very little sacrifice, to add millions to the treasury of the Lord.

Beloved sisters, have you found the joy of sacrifice for Jesus? Have you given up something that you might give it to Him? Are you giving your substance to Jesus? He will take it, and He will give you a thousandfold more.

I should rather be connected with a work founded on great sacrifice than on enormous endowments.

The reason God loved the place where His ancient temple rose in majesty was because there Abraham offered his son and David his treasure. The reason redemption is so dear to the Father and the heavenly world is because its foundation-stone is the Cross of Calvary.

And the Christian life that is dearest to the heart of God, and will rise to the highest glory and usefulness, is the one whose foundation principle is sacrifice and self-renunciation. This is why the Master teaches us to give, because giving means loving, and love is but another name for life.

http://devotionals.ochristian.com/a-b-simpson-devotional.shtml

 

The Great Refusal

They gave him wine to drink mingled with gall: and when he had tasted thereof, he would not drink–Mat 27:34

The One Cup Jesus Refused to Drink

It was a kindly provision of the Jews to give an opiate to the condemned. They found their warrant in the page of the Old Testament. Anesthetics in these earlier days were, of course, very far from perfect. There was no method of mitigating pain save by some dulling or stupefying drug. And it was such a draught that was offered to the Lord when He reached the place appointed for His death. This was fittingly the ministry of women. There was a guild of ladies who charged themselves with that. They bought the ingredients and mingled them, and had them ready for the unhappy criminal. And no one who witnessed the scene ever forgot how, when the draught was handed to the Lord, He quietly and deliberately refused it. He took it, and He tasted it. He was always courteous to the kind. He recognised the compassion that inspired it, and to the compassionate He was ever gracious. Then, having tasted it, and having thanked them, He quite deliberately returned the cup. It was the one cup which He refused to drink. Can we understand that swift declination? Can we fathom the reasons of refusal? The answer brings us to the heart of things.

Had He Drunk It He Would Have Marred the Crowning Service of His Life

One thinks, for instance, how the drinking of that draught would have marred the crowning service of His life. The Cross was the crowning service of His life. There is a way of thinking of the death of Jesus as if it were the tragic end of a high story. There are those who take it as the pitiable opposite of all the rich and popular activities of Galilee. But never, through the whole New Testament, is there even a hint of such a view as that–the Cross is the crowning service of His life. Christ deliberately chose that by which He was to be remembered. It was the hour when everything burst into a flame. It gathered up into one splendid action all the redeeming labours of His days. All He had come to do–all He had lived for–all His work as prophet, priest, teacher and king–was crowned in the last service of the Cross. Now, when a man is facing noble service, does he drug his faculties with opiates? Does the surgeon take a drug before the operation? Does the captain do it when the storm is threatening? For such hours, the crowning hours of service, when tremendous demands are going to be imposed, a man must be at his clearest and his best. Had His work been over, our Lord might have drunk that draught. He might have argued that nothing mattered now. That swift refusal, as with a flash of light, reveals the Master’s outlook on His death. It was no tragic and pitiable end, to be got through with the minimum of suffering. It was a service to be wrought with His whole being.             Akin to that is the great thought that our blessed Lord died of His own will. “No man taketh it [my life] from me, but I lay it down of myself” (Joh 10:18). No beast in the sacrificial rites of Judaism ever died of its own will. It was dragged to the altar, struggling and reluctant. It died because other hands were gripping it. And the infinite value of the death of Jesus lay in its being a voluntary sacrifice–I come to do Thy will, O God. Now the singular power of opiates is this, that they interfere with the freedom of the will. Under their influence we are no longer free. We pass under the dominance of others. We are not controlled nor directed from within when the drug has poured its poison through the veins; we are controlled and directed from without. No longer are we self-determined, nor do we act because we will to act. We have yielded up the mastery of life; we have rendered our personality to others. And that was the one thing our Master could not do if, in the perfect freedom of His love, He was to lay His life down of Himself. So He took the cup, and tasted it, for He was always courteous to the kindly–and then, deliberately, He refused it.

How Much We Would Have Lost Had He Drunk the Cup

One thinks again how much we should have lost had the Lord drunk of that stupefying draught. We should have lost some of the sweetest passages of Scripture. We should never have heard that wonderful prayer for pardon, “Father, forgive them; they know not what they do.” We should never have known His filial care for Mary, “Woman, behold thy son.” We should never have had the ringing, glad assurance wherewith He cried in a loud voice, “It is finished”–the greatest word in the whole of human history. What multitudes have been rescued from despair by the story of the penitent thief, saved and blessed at the eleventh hour, when it seemed too late even for heaven’s mercy? Yet of that penitent thief we never should have heard, nor of his cry, nor of the Lord’s “Today shalt thou be with me in paradise,” had He drunk of that stupefying drug. A poorer Bible and a poorer Christendom–was our Lord conscious of all that? I do not know; the Scripture does not tell us. No man can fathom the consciousness of Jesus. I only know we should have lost forever the seven words upon the Cross, had He not refused to drink the offered draught.

He Wanted to be Our Brother in Suffering

One wonders, too, if in that great refusal our Lord was not thinking of His own. For in spite of all the advances of our knowledge, suffering is still terribly real. There was a friend of my boyhood’s home who suffered from an excruciating trouble. He was a genuinely Christian man, who had been active in the service of the Kingdom. And when friends stooped down to catch what he was whispering as he lay at last upon his bed of agony, what they heard was, “He suffered more for me.” Was our Lord thinking of that follower when He came to Golgotha that day? Did He resolve that He would be a Brother, down to the very depths of human agony? It would be so like Him if that were in His heart when–facing the untold agony of Calvary–He refused to drink the wine mingled with gall.

http://devotionals.ochristian.com/george-h-morrison-devotional-sermons-devotional.shtml

 

The Errand for the Ass

And when they drew nigh unto Jerusalem, and were come to Bethphage, unto the mount of Olives, then sent Jesus two disciples, Saying unto them, Go into the village over against you, and straightway ye shall find an ass tied, and a colt with her: loose them, and bring them unto me–Mat 21:1-2

Bethphage Became Famous in Providing an Ass

The village of Bethphage, which is here mentioned, lay in the immediate neighbourhood of Bethany. It was situated somewhere on the Mount of Olives, amid the gardens and vineyards of its slopes. It is singular that nowhere else do we light on any mention of this village. This is the one and only reference to it, in the Old Testament or in the New. Other townships have become immortal through being the birthplace of this or that disciple, but Bethphage is rescued from oblivion because it supplied the ass which Jesus rode. How the obscurest village starts into life by association with our Lord Jesus Christ! Let Him visit it, or make some claim upon it, and its name is perpetuated through the centuries. And as with villages, is it not with lives which have been brought into contact with the Master? They waken from the sleep of insignificance when once He has visited the heart.

The Lord May Have Known the Owner of the Ass

Now this getting of the ass at Bethphage we are not to think of as anything miraculous. We are not to take it, as is sometimes done, as an example of the omniscience of Christ. Probably Jesus had some friend at Bethphage, perhaps a gardener in some olive-garden. And they had talked together amid the olive trees, where Jesus loved to be in the warm days. And it was then, as they talked and walked together, that the gardener had pled with Him to take the ass, and the Master had promised that if the need arose He would remember the offer of His friend. It may be they then agreed upon a password, and the password was this, “The Lord hath need of them.” If anyone appeared and gave the password, he was to get the ass at once for Jesus’ use. And now the morning had come when it was needed, for Christ was to go in triumph to the capital, and Christ remembered the bargain with His friend. “Then sent Jesus two disciples, saying unto them, Go into the village over against you, and straightway ye shall find an ass tied, and a colt with her: loose them and bring them unto me. And if any man say ought unto you, ye shall say, The Lord hath need of them, and straightway he will send them” (Mat 21:1-3). The two disciples did as they were bid. They went and found the ass and the colt and they brought them to Christ. Then followed the triumphal entry, amid the wild enthusiasm of the people. But it is not of that I wish to speak, it is of this lowly errand which preceded it, for even in that there are lessons for us which may profitably occupy us. First we shall view that errand in the light of rebuke; next in the light of fulfilment; and lastly in the light of trust in Christ.

The Errand Was Meant as a Rebuke

First, then, let us view this errand in the light of a gentle and a wise rebuke. Now to understand why a rebuke was needed we have to go back to the preceding chapter. It is there we see the mind of the disciples as they went up with Jesus to Jerusalem. First there had come to Him the mother of Zebedee’s children, worshipping Him, and desiring a certain thing of Him. And her sons were with her–she did not come alone–they knew and sympathised with her request. And her request, as you are all aware, was that her sons might share in Jesus’ glory, and be seated on His right hand and His left, in the approaching advent of His kingdom. Christ was setting His face toward the cross, and they were dreaming of kingdoms and of crowns. They thought that the hour was very near at hand when the glory of their Lord would be revealed. And they were dreaming their dreams of that epiphany, and picturing the splendour of it all, when Jesus was within a day or two of Calvary. But the sequel of that request is still more notable, for when the ten heard it they had indignation. They were angry at the two, and why were they angry? Because they had tried to steal a march upon them. They were not indignant because of the wrong thoughts which their two brethren were cherishing of Jesus; they were indignant at this mean attempt to rob them of what was to be common to them all. Only thus have the words of Jesus any meaning, the words which He immediately addressed to them. He spoke about the princes of the Gentiles, and of the kind of dominion which they exercise. And He told them that in the Kingdom it was different, for there the greatest was to be the least, even as the Son of Man came not to be ministered unto but to minister, and to give His life a ransom for many. Such was the spirit of the chosen twelve as they went up with their Master to Jerusalem. The hour was coming when they would all be kings, and the days of their humiliation would be ended. In spite of all the teaching of the past, it was of such a future they were dreaming when Christ was travelling towards Gethsemane and sweat blood upon the garden ground.

Now, in the light of that ambitious spirit, do you begin to see the meaning of this errand? It is one of the gentlest and the sweetest checks that Jesus ever gave to those He loved. Probably Bethphage lay on the main road. They would all have passed it had they gone on together. There was no real need of sending on the two, as if the village had been distant from the highway. But Christ deliberately made the errand, and made it in the ingenuity of love, that He might teach them in pictorial fashion what they all needed so terribly to learn. Dreaming of thrones, He sent them for an ass. He bade them go and fetch a beast to ride on. Picturing themselves exalted above Caesar, He sent them about the business of a slave. Wrapped in a vision of the coming glory, when they would be exalted in authority, He gave them a menial service to perform which was fitter for a scullion than a king. I do not suppose they understood it then, but I am sure they understood it afterwards. As they looked back on it, in the sweet light of memory, they saw in a flash the meaning of their Lord. And Nothing would ever be too lowly for them, when Calvary was past and .Christ was risen, when they remembered the last lowly service which they had been asked to render to their Lord.

When We Are Filled with Visions of Self-Importance, God Calls Us to Some Very Humble Task

Now, brethren, it seems to me that Christ often rebukes us in that fashion. When we are filled with visions of our self-importance, He calls us to some very humble task. There is a sense in which every Christian is a visionary. He sees far more than can ever meet the eye. He follows a Lord whose vision was so wonderful that it could see the Kingdom in the mustard seed. But the mark of a Christian is not vision only; it is also instant and unquestioning obedience; and so are we summoned to some lowly duty, just as the two were sent to fetch the ass. There is nothing too mighty for a Christian’s hope; there is nothing too menial for a Christian’s hand. With the largest and the loftiest outlook, he must always be ready for the lowliest service. And often that is the meaning of our service, which is so trifling that we fret at it–it is the gentle rebuke of Jesus Christ to those who are prone to dwell among the clouds. Christ does not only teach us by His words, He teaches us by what He asks from us. He sets us a task to do–a very humble task, perhaps in the church, perhaps by the hearth at home. And then as we do it we discover this, that we are learning more of the spirit of our Master than in all the golden dreams which we were nursing as we walked beside the Master to Jerusalem.

The Errand Was Meant to Be a Fulfilment of Prophecy

In the second place, let us regard this errand in the light of fulfilment. When the disciples, at their Master’s bidding, set out for Bethphage to fetch the ass, I think we may take it as reasonably certain that they had no thought of any prophet’s word. Doubtless they were astonished at the errand, for Christ had never ridden so before. Probably they were very glad to go, for their Lord was weary, and this would ease the journey. And so they went, in love and in obedience, ready to serve in any little way, and never imagining that in this common deed there was anything of unusual significance. The point to note is that though they knew it not, they were fulfilling the prophecies of God. “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem: behold, thy King cometh unto thee: he is just, and having salvation; lowly, and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt the foal of an ass” (Zec 9:9). So, long ago, had Zechariah prophesied, heralding the advent of Messiah, and now the hour of history had come when that prophetic word was being crowned. Through all the ages that prophecy had waited–had waited for this moment on the highway. And now the hour had come, and these two men were the chosen instruments of God to crown it. And yet they did not know what they were doing, and never remembered that it had been foretold, and never dreamed that for a thousand years this lowly service had been willed of God. Had it been anything great that they were called to, it might readily have stirred prophetic memories. There is that in our great hours which lifts us up and sets us among the prophets and the psalmists. But a trifling errand like this to Bethphage–who would have thought that this was a fulfilment? And yet it was as surely a fulfilment as the dying of their Master on the Cross.

In the Trifles of Life. We Are Working Out God’s Plan

Now from that we would all do well to learn this lesson about the will of God. We would do well to learn that we are working out His plans in the little as well as in the great. You remember how Job, when in his great affliction, cried to his friends, “The hand of God hath touched me.” What he felt was that in that mighty sorrow there was something that cried aloud of the divine. But it is not only in our greater hours that we should recognise the hand of God. It is the commoner service and the obscurer trials that visit us as we journey every day. Great services reveal our possibilities; small services reveal our consecration. Great services come to us but rarely; small services are with us every day. How then can God be near us in our lives, ordering everything in love and wisdom, unless we are wakened to detect His hand in the insignificancies of the common day. It is not only on the field of battle that the prophecies of God come to fulfilment. It is not only where the great and mighty are toiling in the eyes of all the world. It is where the mother is working for her children, though no one across the street has heard her name. It is where the workman is busy with his task, though there is not a voice to cheer him on. God may be near to us when we are exalted; but He is nearer still when we are faithful; when we pursue our way unnoticed and unknown, clinging to what we know is right and true. It is such a life that has His benediction, and moves in the line of His appointed plan, and in the end, when all the books are opened, will be found as the fulfilment of His will. Seekest thou great things for thyself? Seek them not. Remember these two disciples and their errand. It was only the fetching of a village ass, and yet the prophets had sung their song about it. And so with you, amid your daily drudgery, that seems so far sometimes from heaven and liberty, the will of God, more ancient than the hills, is working out its purposes of love.

The Errand Was Meant to Be an Exercise of Trust

Now we all know how in their greater tasks the disciples were inspired by trust in Christ. Had they not trusted Him they never had gone forth to preach the Gospel and to heal the sick. “Lord,” they said, when they came back to Jesus, “the very devils were subject unto us.” They were amazed at what they had accomplished–these ignorant and uneducated men. And they had done it because they trusted Jesus, and leaned upon Him as children on a father, and drawn their strength from fellowship with Him, who was the wisdom and the power of God. They did their mighty deeds because they trusted–but was trust needed for such an act as this? Did it take faith to go and fetch an ass, and bring it to their Master at His bidding. If you remember the visions that they cherished, and the kind of dreams of which their hearts were full, I think you will agree that this obedience was only possible in loyal faith. They went at once. They never asked one question. If the Master said it, it must be all right. Was no one likely to interfere with them? Were they not certain to be charged with stealing? Other men would have had doubts like that. They never hesitated for an instant. They went at once, without a moment’s hesitancy, and they went because they trusted Jesus. Not only in their great deeds did they trust Him. They showed their trust in little deeds as well. They honoured Him not only when they preached, but when they went upon a menial errand. Their faith was splendid in the hour of miracle, when in the name of Jesus they were mighty; but it was not less splendid in this unnoticed hour, when they were sent to fetch the ass from Bethphage.

Now I want to ask you this one question–is your faith like that of the disciples? Is it conspicuous in inconspicuous times? Is it operative in your obscurest day? That, after all, is the test of living trust that is the joy and blessing of believing. We are all cast on God in the great moments. We feel that we must trust Him, or we perish. There are services and there are trials so great that they bow us down at the feet of the Almighty. But a trust like that, born of a great despair, though God will accept it, and grant the needed grace, is not so honouring to love and fatherhood as the trust that irradiates the common day. To waken on our immemorial mornings and say, “Please God, I shall have faith in Him today”; to take up our cross in the profound belief that underneath are the everlasting arms; to go to our drudgery, to bear our burden in the happy and sweet sense that God is with us, that is the trust which is honouring to heaven. That is the trust which the disciples showed when they went at once upon their lowly errand. That is the trust which you can show today, without waiting for that impossible tomorrow. And when the day breaks, and the shadows flee away, and life is unrolled before the great white throne, that is the trust which will receive the welcome, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Glory to God in the highest!

http://devotionals.ochristian.com/george-h-morrison-devotional-sermons-devotional.shtml

 

The Tenth Station: Jesus Is Crucified by Mark D. Roberts

Luke 23:33-34, 47

When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” And they cast lots to divide his clothing.

When the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God and said, “Certainly this man was innocent.”

Luke 23:33-34, 47

According to Luke, Jesus was crucified at “the place that is called The Skull” (23:33). The other Gospels mention that it was called Golgotha, the Greek transliteration of the Aramaic word Gûlgaltâ that means “skull.” We get the English word “Calvary” by way of the Latin calvariae locum, which means, “place of the skull.”

The precise location of Golgotha is not clear from Scripture. It was near Jerusalem according to John 19:20, and therefore, by implication, not in the ancient city proper. Hebrews 13:12 mentions that Jesus “suffered outside the city gate.” John 19:41 adds that there was a garden in the place where Jesus was crucified.

From the earliest days Christian tradition has identified the location of Golgotha in a place that is now within an ancient church in Jerusalem (the Anastasis Chuch, or Church of the Resurrection, also called the Basilica of the Holy Sepulchre). This church is now located near the center of Jerusalem. But in the first century this location was actually outside of the walls of the city.

Modern archeology has substantially confirmed the accuracy of traditional Christian belief about the location of Golgotha. Since the nineteenth century, an alternative location for Jesus’ crucifixion has been popular. The so-called Gordon’s Calvary (near the Garden Tomb) does look somewhat like a skull, but most scholars don’t believe it was the location of Jesus’ death for a variety of reasons.

Christians throughout the ages have made pilgrimages to Golgotha, walking along the Via Dolorosa, and pausing to remember the Stations of the Cross along the way. Last summer, I had the opportunity to visit Jerusalem and to make my way from the Mount of Olives, along the Via Dolorosa, to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Why? Why did I join the millions of Christians who have made a pilgrimage to Golgotha?

There’s something about being in the actual place where something momentous happened that makes the event more real. When I was in college, I used to ride my bike to Concord, Massachusetts, to the North Bridge, the place where “the shot heard round the world” began the War for Independence in 1775. As I leaned on that bridge and looked upon the peaceful countryside, I’d think about the men who died that day, and about the freedom I enjoy because of their sacrifice. I’d leave Concord with a deeper gratitude for blessings I usually take for granted.

Sadly, I also can take the freedom I have in Christ for granted. For over four decades, I’ve known that Jesus died for my sins. And, even though I’ve staked my life upon this good news, there are times when it can almost seem old hat. A visit to Golgotha, like to the Concord bridge, retools my perspective. It reminds me that the death of Jesus really happened, in a real place at a real time. There the Lord of Glory suffered and died for the sins of the world…and for my own sins.

Even if you are not able to visit Jerusalem, the Stations of the Cross allow you to approximate a pilgrimage to Calvary. The images and verses of the Via Crucis invite you to follow Jesus to the cross, so that you might experience deeper gratitude for the blessings of God’s amazing grace.

QUESTIONS FOR FURTHER REFLECTION: What helps you to experience in a deeper way the reality of the cross? Why do you think it is easy for us to take the cross for granted?

PRAYER: Gracious Lord, how can I ever thank you for dying on the cross for me? Your death has given me life. Your sacrifice has led to my blessing. Yet I confess that I can sometimes take your death for granted, forgetting what you did for me and neglecting its significance. Forgive me, Lord. And even when I can’t go to the actual place of your crucifixion today, may the reality of your sacrifice press itself upon my mind and flood my heart.

All praise to you, merciful Lord, for Your cross! Amen.

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