Foxes Have Holes

One year for my birthday, I asked a dear friend to paint me something with a fox in it. I didn’t have anything particular in mind of what it should look like; I knew I would love whatever she created. At my birthday, she presented me with a carefully wrapped package. I unopened it to find, not one, but three framed paintings. One painting was of a fox peaking out of a hole. The second was of a bird standing guard at its nest of eggs. The third was of a crown of thorns with a trio of crosses in the background. Included in the gift was a letter that explained how Jesus’ encounter with a scribe in Matthew 8 inspired my friend’s work.

“And a scribe came up and said to him, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head” (Matt. 8:19-20).

Not only were the paintings beautiful, but they reflected the fact that my friend and I were reading and studying the Scriptures together, seeking to understand what it means to follow Christ. We often discussed those things we needed to die to in order to obey him. That was over a dozen years ago. Today, the paintings hang on a wall outside my office where I walk by them every day. The irony is not lost on me that they hang in my home, in a place I own, a place of comfort and safety, while my Savior never had a home of his own. These paintings remind me that following Christ is not easy.

John Calvin commented that the scribe in this passage lived an easy life. He was honored by the community. He had every need met. Calvin wrote: “He wishes indeed to follow Christ, but dreams of an easy and agreeable life, and of dwellings filled with every convenience; whereas the disciples of Christ must walk among thorns, and march to the cross amidst uninterrupted afflictions.” What a contrast! Jesus tells the scribe that even the animals have what he doesn’t have—is he really willing to follow in his footsteps? Does he know the cost? Is he willing to pay it?

Far too often in our western Christian culture, the call to follow Christ has been watered down so much that people don’t hear, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” Instead, they hear: “Follow Jesus and he’ll give you the house of your dreams. He’ll make your life smooth and carefree.” In doing so, they believe a false gospel. A gospel that doesn’t save. Yet, Jesus makes it clear that there is a price to following him:

• “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me” (Matt. 16:24).

• “Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account” (Matt. 5:11).

• “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it?…So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:26-28, 33).

Ultimately, it is the price of homelessness, of being aliens and strangers in a world that is not our own (1 Pet. 2:11, Heb. 11:13). But for those who do follow him, the reward far outweighs the cost: being restored in right relationship with our Maker and eternity spent in his presence.

While I’m thankful for the home in which I live (which I affectionately call “The Fox Den”), I never forget that my Savior had no place to lay his head. That’s because he wasn’t rooted to this world. His sojourn here models for me my own. I am to store up treasure in heaven, not on earth. To follow him, I must hold all things loosely, find him alone to be my place of safety, and to live like a pilgrim in this world until he returns to take me home.

Photo by Katerina Bartosova on Unsplash

When Grief Makes You Weary

When the calendar flipped to the new year, I didn’t feel that usual burst of inspiration to do all the “new year” things. You know, like organizing my pantry or making resolutions of improvements I want to make in my life or creating a wish list of books to read in 2023. I didn’t get out my calendar and make plans for the future. In fact, just the thought of setting a goal or making a resolution made me weary.

I know not everyone is into making goals at the start of the new year. And I know not everyone likes to organize their life or plan ahead, but I do. So when I wasn’t motivated to do so, I had to pause and consider why that might be.

Then I remembered. Grief.

The past year for me—actually, the past few years, if I’m honest—was filled with losses, both big and small. Some loss was hard to define, like when I closed the chapter on many years as a homeschooling parent. Other losses felt confusing, like when my son left home for college and I felt a mixture of sadness for me and happiness for him. And then there was the most recent loss of my father back in November, a loss which really began the year before when we first learned he had Alzheimer’s and then had to spend a year watching him fade away.

The truth is, grief, in all its forms, is tiring. It makes even simple, everyday responsibilities challenging. It’s like slogging through squishy mud where your shoes get sucked in with each step. Activities that you usually complete without a thought all of a sudden require significant work. You are physically and emotionally drained. Spent by the smallest efforts.

It was helpful for me to realize this and to acknowledge that I am not super-human. After a series of losses, I can’t expect to just carry on as usual. I need to take time to rest. I need to acknowledge what I have lost and work through them.

One recent morning, I read in Psalm 119: “I am weary from grief, strengthen me through your word” (Psalm 119:28, CSB). The psalmist is a long time companion for me and he often reminds me of what is true. The psalm doesn’t describe the situation which brought the psalmist grief. Was it grief over the loss of a loved one? Grief over personal sin? Over something happening in the nation as a whole? Grief over the hard circumstances of his life? Whatever the reason, the psalmist resonates with my own heart: grief is tiring. But he then reminds me that strength is available; it’s found in the word of God.

Throughout the Bible, God speaks to those who are weary and promises them rest. He doesn’t tell them to get their act together or just “get over” their circumstances. He doesn’t call them to self-rescue. Instead, he invites them to find rest in himself. He promises life and strength through communion with him. He feeds and sustains his people by his word. Even more, the word of God breathes life into the dead spaces of our lives. This is good news for those who are weary from grief.

I can’t help but think of Ezekiel and the Valley of Dry Bones. God brought Ezekiel to a valley scattered with bones. Ezekiel describes the bones as “very many” and “very dry.” There is no life to be found in them. I can only imagine what such a valley looked like. God asks him, “Son of man, can these bones live?” (Ez. 37:3). God then gives him words to speak, to prophecy over the bones and at his words, an amazing thing happens. The bones return to life! Ezekiel watches as the bones come together with great rattling. Then sinew. flesh, and skin come upon them. God then tells him to, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath, Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe on these slain, that they may live” (Ez. 37:9). Just like at creation when God spoke and life began, Ezekiel speaks the words of the Lord and life is resurrected; the bones return to life. From barrenness comes new birth; from emptiness comes fullness; from sadness comes great joy.

This story in Ezekiel points to the way the Spirit breathes life into our dead souls so that we can respond in faith to the call of the gospel. And it’s a reminder of the power of God’s word in all the lifeless spaces of our lives. It’s good news for the weary and faint of heart. It’s good news for those who grieve.

May the psalmist’s prayer be our prayer as well: “I am weary from grief, strengthen me through your word.” Like the psalmist, we can engage with God in our grief and cry out to him in our weariness. We can ask him to renew our strength. We can pray for resurrection in our own valleys of dry bones. And as we encounter him through the Scripture, we can expect great things. For the One who spoke and said “Let there be light” will bring light to rise upon the darkness of our days. He will bring new life. He will strengthen the weary heart.

Photo by Marcus Ganahl on Unsplash

We Are All Sowers

As a child, I spent many a Sunday afternoon at my grandparent’s house. Summertime was my favorite for that was when my grandfather’s watermelons were ripe and ready for picking. He’d take us out back and select one from the garden, take it inside, and slice it up for us to eat. They were so sweet and juicy, no grocery store could ever compare.

It seems the propensity for gardening skipped me. I remember my father planting sunflower seeds and they grew the tallest sunflowers in our side yard. My sister has harvested vegetables of all kinds. But I can barely keep a succulent alive. While I’m not much of a gardener, the Bible tells us that we are all sowers. To sow is to scatter seed with the expectation that it will grow into something. If we are all sowers, what is the seed that we scatter?

To answer that question, it’s helpful to look at the book of Hosea, specifically chapter 8. There we see the prophet speak against Israel’s sin and warn them of judgment to come. Those familiar with the book know that Israel is compared to an unfaithful wife. That’s because God’s people rejected his covenant and broke his law (Hosea 8:1). They put on an outward show of piety and worship but their hearts were far from God. They didn’t seek after God, but sought after idols and worshipped them instead: “With their silver and gold they made idols for their own destruction” (Hosea 8:4) They turned to other kings and other nations for help and rescue and not in the God who made them his own.

God warns them that they will reap what they sow: “For they sow the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind” (Hosea 8:8). Or as Calvin wrote, “they shall receive a harvest suitable to the sowing.” Indeed, Israel reaped the whirlwind when they were later conquered and taken into captivity.

C.H. Spurgeon comments on Hosea 8: “We are all sowing; we cannot help it. No one goes forth in the morning without a seed-basket. As we are all sowing, the great question we have to consider is, “What will the harvest be?” It’s helpful to ask ourselves: Are we sowing seeds of faith or of unbelief? Are we sowing seeds of righteousness or unrighteousness? Are we sowing seeds for this world or the world to come? Are we sowing for our glory or for God’s glory? What we sow, that we will reap. The harvest depends on what is sown. Just as we can’t expect green beans to grow if we’ve sown melon seeds, we can’t expect life to grow from seeds of death.

The Apostle Paul put it this way: “Whoever sows to please their flesh, from the flesh will reap destruction; whoever sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life” (Gal. 6:8 NIV). There is wisdom in thinking through what we are sowing and looking ahead to consider what the potential harvest of that sowing might be. To be aware that we do reap what we sow. That with choices come consequences. But there’s also encouraging news, because when we sow to please the Spirit, we are promised a bountiful harvest. Paul encourages us not to grow weary or give up in our labors: “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up” (Gal. 6:9). Spurgeon encourages us as well: “If we have believed in Christ and received eternal life by faith in him, and if we are trying to labor for him, we are sowing blessed seed; and if it comes not up today, or tomorrow, yet divine grace ensures a crop that we will gather in one of these days. Therefore, we may be encouraged to labor on. The farmer waits for the precious fruits of the earth through the long and dreary winter, through the checkered days of spring, through March winds and April showers he waits until at last the golden harvest rewards him for all his toil. What we sow, we will also reap. Our Lord has told us so.”

As we begin a new year, it’s helpful to ask ourselves: What am I sowing today? And second: What will the harvest be? May we sow that which brings honor to the One who redeemed us for the harvest he promises will last far into eternity.

Photo by Joshua Lanzarini on Unsplash

When the Holidays are Hard

It’s that time of year again. A season filled with parties and twinkling lights and gift giving. A time of concerts and plays and cookie exchanges. A time of fa-la-la-la-la and good cheer. Over these next few weeks, people who would ordinarily not make eye contact with strangers, will wish every passing person a “Merry Christmas.” We’ll mail out dozens of annual photo cards with smiling faces and belt out our favorite version of All I Want for Christmas.

In the midst of all this merriment are those for whom the Christmas season is not filled with cheer. For some, the holidays are downright hard and a month long season of festivity feels like an eternity. This is true for the lonely—those whose family live far away or who don’t have a place to go for Christmas. It’s true for those who’ve just endured a painful loss and can’t imagine Christmas dinner without their loved one seated at the table. The holidays are also hard for those who can’t make ends meet and can’t bear to show up at the annual office party empty-handed.

On the outside it may seem like everyone is holly and jolly, but the truth is, the holidays are hard for many.

Might the gospel have something to say to those who are hurting this holiday season? After all, isn’t that what Christmas is about? Isn’t it a celebration of the Light of the World cutting into the darkness of fallen humanity? Isn’t it about peace consuming the chaos? Isn’t it about hope for the hopeless?

While we tend to soften the harsh edges of the Christmas story, the incarnation is filled with hard circumstances. A poor teen girl learns she is to bear the Messiah by a miraculous conception and her fiancé nearly breaks things off, until an angel intervenes. The young couple travel to Bethlehem for a mandatory census just as she is about to give birth and can’t find a place to stay. With no other option, she delivers her baby among the animals in a stable. God incarnate leaves the glorious throne room of heaven, takes on human flesh, and enters a place filled with the smells of hay and the sounds of donkeys and sheep. Before long, they have to flee to Egypt because a mad-man wants the promised child dead. The sounds of sorrow echo throughout Israel as every child two and under is killed in the hopes of finding and ending the life of the One who would deliver his people.

The prophet Isaiah describes the life of this God-man, one filled with sorrow and suffering:

“For he grew up before him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground; he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed” (Is. 53: 2-5).

This means we have a Savior who knows and understands all our sorrows for he is the Man of Sorrows. He doesn’t just know about it; he came to bear all that we carry—all the loneliness, grief, and painful memories. The fears of not having enough. The shame of what we’ve done and what’s been done to us. And above all, he came to take away the guilt of all our sin. Jesus Christ lived the life we could not live and died the death we deserved. He was pierced, crushed, chastised, and wounded for us.

The gospel tells us that our Savior came for all those reasons that make the holiday season so hard for us. He came to bring peace and healing, redemption and hope. This means that in the midst of all that is hard, we have joy in Jesus Christ. He is our comfort in a world filled with sorrow. “…his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Is. 9:6).

When everyone around us is filled with good cheer and it’s all we can do to keep the tears at bay, the very One whom we celebrate knows each of those tears. He knows what it is to grieve, to endure temptation, to face poverty, to experience rejection. “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Heb. 4:15). Jesus Christ is Immanuel, God with us, which means he is present with us in all our trials and troubles. He is present with us during this holiday season. We can cry out to him and voice all those things we can’t voice anywhere else. He hears and knows and will surround us with his help and grace.

When the holidays are hard this season, let us turn our hearts to the story of the incarnation. Let us remember the story of our Savior who, “though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Phil. 2:6-8). No one understands the depths of our sorrows as the Man of Sorrows himself. And only he has done something about it.

While the Christmas season may be hard, it is not without joy. May our tears mingle with songs of joy as we celebrate the birth of our Savior.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Come Into His Presence With Thanksgiving

“If only ___ happened in my life, then I would be happy and content.”

“If only ____ changed, then I wouldn’t be so dissatisfied all the time.”

“If only ____."

How would you fill in the blanks above? I have multiple things I would place in those blanks, things I look to as THE THING that would make my life better. A change in circumstances. An answered prayer. A dream realized. Healing of something broken. A provision. Whatever the “if only” is, it becomes my one focus and keeps me from remembering the goodness of the Lord and rejoicing in what he has done for me.

In truth, my “if-only’s” nurture my discontent.

Psalm 95: An Invitation to Worship

Psalm 95 is a psalm of praise, inviting worshippers into God’s presence. It expounds on reasons why we worship and praise the Lord. At the same time, it also presents a warning as it contrasts the grateful heart with that of a grumbling heart, reminding us of how easy it is to wander into discontentment. At its heart, this psalm shows us how being in God’s presence and dwelling on who he is fosters gratitude and thanksgiving, rather than discontentment.

The psalmist begins with an invitation to worship: “Oh come, let us sing to the LORD; let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation! Let us come into his presence with thanksgiving; let us make a joyful noise to him with songs of praise! (vv.1-2). This worship is directed to “the rock of our salvation.” When we consider how the Lord has delivered us from sin by his grace, we can’t help but respond in joyful praise. We can’t help but give him the thanks he is due. Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me.

The author goes on to explain why we worship and give thanks:

• for the LORD is a great God (v.3)

• He is a great King above all gods (v. 3)

• He owns the earth (v.4)

• He created all things; he is our Maker (vv.5-6)

• He is our God! (v.7)

• We are his people, his sheep (v.7)

Our God is greater than all. He created and rules over all things. Everything belongs to him. But he is not a God who rules from a distance; he is very near. He is our God. He knows us and we know him. Even more, he shepherds us. We can’t help but think of Psalm 23 and the tender description of God as a shepherd caring for his flock and of Jesus’ description of himself as the Good Shepherd in John 10. “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep…I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me” (John 10:11, 14). What a privilege to worship the God of the universe who knows each of his sheep!

When Hearts Wander

These verses stand in contrast to what comes next in Psalm 95 as the psalmist cautions worshippers to remember their ancestors who wandered from their Good Shepherd. They hardened their hearts at Meribah (v.8). They put God to the test, despite witnessing his wondrous works to deliver them from slavery (v.9). They grumbled and complained and doubted God’s goodness. They did not give him thanks for his faithfulness to them and to his covenant. They were rebellious and hard-hearted. As a result, they did not experience the Lord’s rest (v. 11). They wandered in the desert for forty years and missed out on entering the Promised Land.

Psalm 95 reminds worshippers just how important it is to keep our minds and hearts fixed on the character and works of God and to respond to him with thanksgiving, for we are prone to wander. We so easily forget what the Lord has done for us. Like Israel, we forget the God who rescued and delivered us the moment we hunger. When Israel faced difficult circumstances, they were quick to respond with their own “if-only’s.” “If only the LORD had killed us back in Egypt,” they moaned. “There we sat around pots filled with meat and ate all the bread we wanted. But now you have brought us into this wilderness to starve us all to death.” (Ex. 16:3). They remembered the food they ate in Egypt and longed to return back to slavery rather than trust in the God who owns all the fields of the earth. And we do the same. But praise God for his grace toward those who wander! Our Good Shepherd will never let even one of his sheep go far (Luke 15:3-7). And no one can take his sheep from him: “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand” (John 10:27-28).

When we come into God’s presence, dwelling on who he is and what he has done, our discontented hearts are reshaped into grateful ones. We respond in joy and thanksgiving. For he is our God; he know us and we know him.

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Who Prays For You?

Whenever there is some kind of tragedy, we often hear people say something like, “My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.” I’ve heard newscasters say it in response to a person’s loss of a loved one. I often wonder what they mean when they say that. Do they equate thoughts and prayers as the same thing? Do kind thoughts about someone make an impact in their lives in some way? Or is it just a nice thing to say? Also, do they really mean that they are praying for the hurting person and if so, to whom are they praying?

In recent weeks, I’ve received countless texts, emails, and messages from brothers and sisters in Christ with the same message, “I am praying for you.” In this case, I know why these believers say this to me. I know what they mean when they do. And I know that these words actually do something. Not simply because it is a nice thing to say, which it is. Not simply because I know someone cares about me, though I know they do. But because those words refer to something powerful. When a Christian prays, things happen. God uses the prayers of believers to carry out his will.

I can’t help but think of the story of Peter when Herod put him in prison in Acts 12. “So Peter was kept in prison, but earnest prayer for him was made to God by the church” (v.5). Then we read what happens when the church prayed: an angel came and set him free, breaking his chains and bringing him past sentries guarding the jail. “Now I am sure that the Lord has sent his angel and rescued me from the hand of Herod and from all that the Jewish people were expecting” (v.11). Peter went straight to the house church where everyone was gathered, still praying for his release. James tells us “The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working” (5:16). There are countless examples in Scripture of God’s people praying and the Lord hearing and responding to their prayers.

So, for the Christian, praying for others actually means something. It’s more than words and more than a kind thing to say. It does something. God hears and responds when we pray for one another.

When we pray for one another, we pray to the same Father on behalf of our brother or sister in Christ. It is a very practical way in which we live out our unity with one another. Our Father moves in the life of those for whom we pray. The Apostle Paul knew this and that’s why he asked the Corinthian church to pray for him, “You also must help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many” (2 Cor. 1:11).

The question is, who prays for you? Who do you turn to when you need prayer? Whether you face temptation to sin or a hard trial of life, who will bring your needs before your Father in heaven? My father passed away recently and I immediately reached out to people in my life that I knew would pray for me. And they did. Even more, they called on the phone and prayed aloud with me. They came to my home with meals and prayed for me.

In order to have someone pray for us, we need to be connected to the Body of Christ; we need to be a part of a church community. And in order for people to know we need prayer, they have to know us. We have to be engaged with others in the church, inviting them into our lives, so that they know our sins, sorrows, and needs. We can’t expect people to know us if we slink into the back row right as the sermon starts and exit before the benediction. This means we have to participate in the life of the church—in fellowship, in discipleship and learning, in service to one another. The more we do so, the more we are united to others in the church, and the more we can turn to the church body when we are in need of prayer. And as we pray for one another, we are further deepened in our unity, and glorify God together in thanksgiving for his answered prayer.

The prayers of my brothers and sisters in Christ have carried me through a lot this past year. Do you have people who pray for you?

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