This can’t be healthy.

If there’s another thing that I know, sort of, it’s kids. Because I have one.

When you put these things together it practically makes me an expert in kids music. So listen up: go out and get your hands on the new Sovereign Grace Music children’s album, To Be Like Jesus.

In all seriousness, this is a fantastic album. It combines excellent music with simple, yet doctrinally sound words. The album is done in such a way that it will appeal to children without going skimpy on the truth.

My two year-old daughter and I have been rocking out to it lately. Click the player below to listen to our favorite song, “Gotta Wait”.

The word of the Lord came to me, saying, “Go and proclaim in the hearing of Jerusalem, Thus says the Lord,“I remember the devotion of your youth, your love as a bride, how you followed me in the wilderness, in a land not sown” (JE 2.1-2).

When my wife Kristi was a young bride she followed me into the wilderness because she loved me.  In our first year of marriage I quit my secure teaching job and came on staff as a pastor-in-training in a small, fledgling church where neither the pastor nor myself really had any idea of what we were doing.  At least I didn’t.  Even scarier, within 2 years I became the Sr. Pastor.  In those early years our church navigated some dry times when it looked like the church wouldn’t make it.  Times when more people were bailing than joining.  Times when it seemed like nothing was happening, mostly when I preached.  Yet Kristi still followed me.

That’s what it’s like to run after Christ.  He gives us such a love for him, we follow him in the wilderness, where we aren’t sure where our provision will come from.  Sometimes it’s a wilderness of suffering, or a desert of having no idea what in the world to do with our kids.  It may be the solitary wasteland of loneliness or the badlands of being sinned against.

That’s what it is to love Jesus.  To follow him in the wilderness and trust him, no matter what the outcome.  To keep following him when we’re dry and thirsty, tired and weary.  Where it’s bleak and boring.  What devotion he implants in our hearts, to go, not knowing where, to walk with him in arid places because he alone can satisfy our thirsty souls.

Are you in the wilderness today?  Is it because you followed Jesus?  Know this, the Lord Jesus takes great delight in your desert devotion.

photo by HORIZON

Only two types people can be content in the midst of affliction:

Monkish types who wear chafing robes and seek to overcome pain by annihilating their desires

and

Christians who have found their contentment in something, or more specifically someone, other than their circumstances.

Jeremiah Burroughs puts is this way:

There is a power of grace to turn this affliction into good; it takes away the sting and poison of it.

How can we find contentment in suffering? By going to Christ, who gives grace to take away the sting and poison of our affliction.

Where do you go in the midst of affliction?

+photo by h.koppeldelaney

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A dad once told me, “I get angry with my kids so they know I’m serious.  It’s good for them to be afraid of me, at least a little bit.”

So often we resort to anger as a way to get people to do what we want.  Parents yell at their kids to try to get them to obey.  Bosses intimidate employees to motivate them.  Husbands speak harshly to their wives to try to change them.

But God’s Word says, “Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God (James 1.19-20).

Catch that?  Anger won’t produce righteousness - in our children or anyone else.  Anger will often produce something else, though - the fear of man.  Oh, our children may obey us out of fear.  But our anger will produce little Pharisees, who obey on the outside but not from the heart*.

God doesn’t use anger to produce his righteousness in us.  His wrath doesn’t move those in hell to love him.  God imputes to us Christ’s righteousness, then moves us to obey out of gratitude.  We love because he first loved us, not because he first intimidated us.

*I’d like to credit the person I learned this from, but I can’t recall who it was.

photo by Eric Rice

• Any movie featuring both Chuck Norris and Steven Seagal.

• Any more “Chicken Soup for the [insert person, such as astronaut] Soul books.

• Letting George Lucas anywhere near a camera.

• Attaching the word “extreme” to something that isn’t, specifically deodorant or shampoo.

• Bible covers with any of the following on the front: Bald Eagle, very caucasian looking Jesus, the praying hands.

• Talking loudly on a cellphone, as if you were communicating with someone in space [I think I do this sometimes].

• Air quotes, except in extreme circumstances.

• The phrase “it’s not so much the heat, but the humidity that gets you”.

• Letting Stephen ride a scooter.

• Letting Stephen do these silly lists.

Many more things need to be made illegal. What would you add?

The things I can do on and Facebook and Twitter are incredible.

I can let you know exactly what I’m doing at 2:01 P.M. on Tuesday afternoon (drinking my third cup of coffee). I can post that goofy picture of me and my buddy sporting our sweetest 80’s clothes. I can take a quiz that helps me identify which ‘The Princess Bride’ character I’m most like. I can catch up with my high school friends.

Yet in the midst of all this, something strange can begin to take place. I can feel as though the things I say and post on Facebook and Twitter don’t really matter. As if, somehow, the things I say and do online are separate from the real me. Come on, it’s just Facebook, right?

Wrong. In Matthew 15:19 Jesus said:

For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander.

So what does this mean? It means that our status updates, photo uploads, wall posts, and online chats are a visible display of what is taking place in our hearts.

Posting flirtatious comments on someone’s picture isn’t “just what happens on Facebook”. Uploading an inappropriate photo isn’t just for fun. Relentlessly mocking someone isn’t what happens online. It’s the overflow of the heart. And it’s sin. What we do online is the real us. It doesn’t matter that we’re safely behind a computer screen.

And the sobering thing is, every action that takes place online has effects that last into eternity. Jesus said:

I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak… (Matt. 12:36)

Let’s put that verse into online terms. On the day of judgment people will give an account for every careless Tweet they post. Every inappropriate status update. Every sinful picture. Wall post. Chat.

On the final day, I don’t want to regret the things I said in cyber space. So for now, I need to watch what I Tweet, upload, and wall post. Because I am what I Tweet.

Here are some questions to get us thinking. Parents, Facebook and Twitter provide excellent conversation topics. Use these questions as starting points.

• Do I ever say anything on Facebook or Twitter that is impure or unedifying? (Ephesians 4:29)
• Am I communicating with anyone online that I wouldn’t want my spouse/parents/friends to know about? (1 John 1:6-7)
• What do my pictures, wall posts, status updates, and “friends” show about my heart?

Here’s the bad news: we’ve all sinned in this area. The good news is that Jesus Christ died for Facebook sinners like me. In light of this good news, let’s use Facebook and Twitter for the glory of God.

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Note: This idea of the online me is the real me was first introduced to me by a pastor named Steve Whitacre. Thanks for your wisdom Steve!

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me  (PS 23.4).

In college I watched the movie Wait Until Dark, a spine-tingler about a blind woman terrorized in her home by a murderer.  In one scene, he suddenly lunges at her out of the darkness with a dagger.  It so startled me I shot back in my seat, and smashed my funny bone on the armrest.  Darkness is scary.

A sheep in the desert would dread the darkness.  Predators lurk in the dark.  Pitfalls lie unseen in the inky blackness.

All Christians will trudge through deep valleys of the shadow of death from time to time.  The darkness of depression or the gloom of loneliness.  The overcast days of caring for a sick child or raising a rebellious teen.  Pitch-black places where we can’t see the next step.

But God promises that even in the valley of the shadow of death we will fear no evil.

No matter what kind of darkness you are experiencing, if you’re a believer in Jesus Christ, there’s a reason you need not fear - your Shepherd is with you.  Your Great Shepherd who is stronger than all your enemies.  The One to whom night is as bright as day.  The one who conquered Satan, demons, sin and death itself on the cross.   Because he is with you, you need not fear.

How do we know he is with us?  First of all, because he’s promised never to leave us nor forsake us.

But his rod and his staff also remind us he’s there.

His rod and staff comfort us by reminding us that our Shepherd is with us.  In the darkness he taps us with his rod and nudges us with his staff.  Jesus gently pokes me with his staff when a brother exhorts me.  He says, “Mark, I’m here,” when a friend sends a note of appreciation.  He prods me with his rod when my wife asks heart-searching questions.

Jesus wants to use you to be his “staff” to comfort a brother or sister in the darkness.

“The most subtle use of the staff is to ‘be in touch’ with someone who may just need a word of encouragement or a hug.  These are ways of saying, ‘Everything will be OK’ or ‘I’m right beside you.’  These statements echo two of the most common messages God speaks to people in the Bible: ‘Do not be afraid’ and ‘I am with you.’  The staff represents these messages.  A post-it note on the computer screen.  A treat left in the lunch bag.  A surprise party… A call on the anniversary of a loved one’s death.  A passage of Scripture read at someone’s bedside.” - Timothy S. Laniak, While Shepherds Watch Their Flocks

How does God nudge you with his staff in the darkness?  How does he make you aware he is with you?

photo by Reza Vaziri

Discontentment does funny things to me. Like turn me into a greedy, ungrateful pig.

Point in case: my budget. There are times when money is a teensy bit on the tight side. My bank account starts running thin, and the McDonald’s value menu starts to look like a little bit of heaven. You’ve all been there.

You would think that when things get tight I would become more grateful for the things that I already have. But that’s not what happens. Instead, my discontented heart latches on to the one or two things I can’t buy because of budget restrictions.

I’m living in a wonderful house. I’ve got the best wife, baby girl, mom and dad, brothers and sister, and dogs (okay scratch the dogs) in the world. I have ten Bibles in my house. I have enough money to keep my daughter full of nutritious food. I have clean water. Above anything else, I have the gospel. Salvation. Fellowship with the living God.

But in the heat of discontentment, I don’t give a rip about any of these things. Instead, I become fixated on the one or two things I can’t have. Instead of bursting with gratefulness to God, I’m shriveling up with self-centered discontent.

Thomas Watson put it well when he said:

…our hearts are more discontented at one loss than thankful for a hundred mercies. God has plucked one branch of grapes from you, but how many precious clusters are left behind?

So what’s the solution for my mutinous, discontented heart? I need to spend time pondering the mercies of God. To reflect on the gospel and all the blessings that I’ve received in the gospel. To give thanks for all that I have received.

Discontentment doesn’t grow well in the soil of thankfulness. Let’s cultivate the soil of thankfulness today.

What about you? Can you relate to my discontented frenzy?

+photo by jere-me

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PS 119.71 It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes.

Pain bad.  Comfort good.  I don’t know about you, but when I smash my thumb with a hammer, my first impulse isn’t to jump for joy shouting, “Yes!  That felt great!  I think I’ll smash the other one!”  I don’t like to suffer.  I want an easy life.

Yet the author of Psalm 119 says it was good that he suffered.  Was he some kind of masochist?

He doesn’t say he enjoyed suffering, he says it is good for him that he suffered.

Looking back, he says of his experience, “It is good for me that I was afflicted.”  It is good for me (NOW) that I was afflicted (THEN).  In other words, at the time, I might not have thought the affliction was good, but I can see now that in reality it was good - I didn’t enjoy it, but it’s good that I went through it.  I have something in my life now that I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t suffered then.

Suffering drives us to the Word

He says it is good he was afflicted “that I might learn your statutes.”  Pain has a way of driving us to God’s Word.  A way of impelling us to trust and obey.  Impelling us to trust God’s promises and pray that he’ll fulfill them.  Impelling us to obey God’s commands and walk in his ways.

Affliction tutors us to believe God will provide, protect, revive, comfort and direct us.

Trouble instructs us to obey God’s commands to delight in him, to walk in his ways, to flee evil, and to do all he commands.

In the classroom of adversity we learn to cling to the truth of God’s steadfast and unchanging love and obey his statutes with fear and trembling.

Speak in the present tense

If the Psalmist can say, “It is good that I WAS afflicted” because his pain bore good fruit, then we should say, “It is good that I AM afflicted” - present tense - knowing the great Vine Dresser is pruning us today to produce fruit tomorrow.  Our loving Father is disciplining us as his children to produce the peaceful fruit of righteousness.

We don’t deny the reality of pain.  We can honestly say, “I’m suffering and it hurts a lot but it is good that I’m afflicted.   I’m grieving and oppressed, but it is good that I’m afflicted, because God is good.”

photo by Burwash Calligrapher