I love to take a passage of Scripture that contains general instruction to believers and make it personal. I prefer to study the English Standard Version (ESV), but after studying a passage in the ESV, I will often read the paraphrase in The Message. Then, I personalize the passage, praying the words, challenging my heart, and asking the Holy Spirit to convict me to change. The challenge below comes from Colossians 3:1-17.
Every good story has an emotional black moment where all seems lost. The hero laments in the ashes of his shattered dreams. Betrayal, abandonment, you-fill-in-the-blank, all prevent the desired happily-ever-after. There is no solution in sight. The villain is bigger, stronger, and more powerful than first thought. Evil celebrates certain victory—or so it seems.
This pivotal point in the story resonates with readers because good fiction is patterned after real-life. All our lives lead toward a black moment, a moment when we sit at the crossroads and know our choices, our lifestyle, our sin have separated us from God and there is nothing that we can do to recover and make it right. In that moment we fully recognize the cost of our sin—inevitable death. The black moment may be an exciting crisis point in a novel, but in real life it brings horrifying, soul-crushing, devastation.
In my black moment, the reality of my wretchedness fell heavy over me and I was incapable of taking it away. The weight of my sin devastated my lost soul. The enemy celebrated, whispering lies into my ear, “I have won. There is no hope.”
Us fiction-junkies know better than to close the book at the black-moment. We keep reading, clinging to the hope that somehow good is victorious. We don’t know how, we don’t know when, but we fervently flip the pages desperate to learn how good triumphs.
Good fiction is patterned after reality. In my darkness I longed for that last-minute rescue from my own wretched sin. Deep down, I wanted a hero to swoop in and save the day. I couldn’t fathom how it was possible, yet that hope burned inside refusing to die. In my darkness, God turned the page and I discovered that nothing—and I mean nothing—can derail God’s plans for His children.
Way back in history, a black moment came upon Egypt. The Israelites were demanding their release. Pharaoh refused. Judgement was coming. All the first-born sons were to die.
Years later, on a hill named Golgotha, darkness fell over the disciples. Everything they had believed in breathed His last on the cross. Evil stole Hope. The villain was bigger, stronger, and more powerful than first thought. With no answer in sight, the disciples lamented in the ashes of their shattered dreams. They had lost everything. This horrifying soul-crushing crossroads stole their happily-eve-after—or so it seemed.
If we stop reading here, both historical accounts end tragic. But God turns the page and reveals that nothing—and I mean nothing—can derail His plans for His children.
In Egypt, the people of God were instructed to sacrifice a perfect lamb and then take the blood from that lamb and spread it over their doorposts, marking the inhabitants of their homes as belonging to God. The Spirit of God would “passover” that home and allow the child to live.
Three days after Golgotha, Christ is risen from the dead proving that death has no hold on Him, or on all who believe in His name. That reality gives hope to every black moment. He will rescue all who call on His name. He will reveal the way of escape.
As a black-moment judgement comes to my wretched soul, I can, by God’s mercy, be saved by a passover of sorts. God has provided the perfect lamb, His Son—the Lamb of God. The blood of Christ is spilled once and for all and washes clean those who come to Him in repentance and faith. Christ’s blood marks me as His own when I surrender to God. The blood of Christ protects my soul from deserving judgement.
In that surrender I find, like Israelites and the disciples found, that in the midst of dark and desperate days, Hope is not dead. Whether it has been dark for 3 hours, 3 days, 3 years, or 3 decades, resurrection Sunday gives hope a name – His name is Jesus.
If you’re in a black moment, at a cross-roads, and all seems lost, don’t stop here. Evil doesn’t have to win. The page has been turned and you can surrender to Hope. His name is Jesus.
When the battle rages and exhaustion overwhelms, I devour the only medication that truly heals the soul. I rewrite comforting selections of Scripture and remind myself of my total dependence upon on the Lord. Here are some bits from Psalm 86 and 88. They are medicine for my soul.
O Lord, God of my salvation, I cry out day and night before you. Let my prayer come before you, incline your ear to my cry. My soul is full of troubles. I am a man without strength.
You are perfect in love, you are the answer to every question, to every need. Your word is the medicine that I need.
You, O Lord, are merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness. Turn to me and be gracious to me. Give your strength to your servant.
Teach me your ways so I may walk in the truth. Unite my heart to fear your name.
I give thanks to you Lord with my whole heart. I will glorify your name forever.
This world is not our friend. It does everything to open innocent eyes and awaken inappropriate desires. This sex-saturated society dismisses traditional values as outdated and boring. It portrays God’s morals as restrictive and close-minded, pitting God against racy movies and titillating novels.
Yet, God’s voice—not the voice of culture—needs to be the main influence in my life. How do I remain pure? How do I protect my eyes from things I cannot unsee? How do I protect my ears from things I cannot unhear? How, when sex is everywhere? Television. Music. Magazines. Online. The enemy steadily increases exposure to unholy things effectively decreasing our sensitivity creating a tolerance for things that should shock our souls.
And my whole being just aches for this generation. It is hungry for deep and wild love and is looking everywhere but where God promised it could be found. In Him.
Anything enjoyed outside of God’s established boundaries will never fully satisfy.
How do I stay pure? In Psalm 119:9-16 the Psalmist shows that the way to remain pure requires action on my part. Purity doesn’t just happen. It is pursued, fought for, and treasured.
Psalm 119:9-16 (ESV)
How can a young man keep his way pure? By guarding it according to your word. With my whole heart I seek you; let me not wander from your commandments. I have stored up your word in my heart, that I might not sin against you. Blessed are you, O Lord; teach me your statutes! With my lips I declare all the rules of your mouth. In the way of your testimonies I delight as much as in all riches. I will meditate on your precepts and fix my eyes on your ways. I will delight in your statutes; I will not forget your word.
If you are seeking God with your whole heart, treasuring and delighting in Him, declaring His way and pondering His commands, He will by His grace and power guide you and teach you.
It started in a small group at church. Collecting answers. Gathering reminders. An annual tradition of pouring it empty, giving words to faith, remembering to believe.
Slips of plain paper etched with plain truth. God’s answers are everywhere.
It is a discipline to train my eyes to see His answers. To look for extra in the ordinary. To open my heart and pour out praise everyday.
One a day for one year. It is not too much. One acknowledgement of His goodness, His mercy, His unchanging dependability. Training the eye to see. Choosing to remember. Believing He hears and He answers.
It sits on the windowsill holding truth. Collecting praises waiting to be poured out. Reminders that my God is good. Always good.
365 praises. My pile of stones that give witness to God’s action. A beacon shining from known past into an unknown future. A reminder that I’ve been here before. Waiting. Praying. Listening.
Lord, give me ears that hear, eyes that see, a heart full of praise.
This is more than a pile of paper in a jar, more than a pile of rocks by a river. It is a reference point, a story for the next generation. This is where I met God, where His powerful hand provided. It is a waiting story. A story waiting to be poured out so others may also know and believe.