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Resurrection

Sunday, 27 September 2009 14:15 Peter Anderson

Resurrection... the picture that word brings to our minds is one of joy, of triumph, and of power. The uncomfortable truth about resurrection is the fact that it occurs only after death.

Death is a condition that, naturally speaking, is final. One might say that it is a place beyond hope. Death occurs in the body, but during our natural lives, there are other kinds of death occurring as well. In some cases, we feel that our life has been taken from us without our permission.

Another death is the kind that we do consent to. For Jesus, the death He consented to was a physical death. For us, it is often death of the will or the death of a dream. And yet, Christ's death began not at Calvary, but in Gethsemane, if not before. Beneath the olive trees, Jesus said, "Not my will, but thine be done".

For us, this may be the most difficult part of our death: The part where we still have a choice, and where we, in spite of the fact we have an idea of the consequences, choose to say, "Thy will be done." At this time, we are in a battle of the will, flesh against spirit. Echoing the words of Jesus in this case brings our flesh a step closer to death.

Once this choice has been made, if it has been made honestly, a Calvary-like experience becomes inevitable. This becomes a time when we struggle with the results of our decision: A time of pain, thirst, and loneliness. For Christ, His experience on Calvary ended with a sense of abandonment. In our fellowship with Jesus, it is not surprising that we, too, will feel this.

This article is about resurrection, so why am I talking about death and pain? It is because for Christ, our Example, the road to triumph led through places of pain, loss, hopelessness and death. It is only when human hope has failed that the true power of the resurrection can be clear.

Yes, I have experienced these things. The happy news is, though, that as I have "taken up my cross" to follow Him, I have also tasted of His triumph. Where hope and joy had died in my life, they have re-emerged. Not tentatively or shyly, but bursting forth from the tomb, filled with indestructible life, in the same way that Jesus did.

Why was death necessary? Why the pain? I believe it is because there are some things that are left behind in the tomb: things that could be separated from us only through the experience of death. Jesus bore our sins on the cross, but we can be sure He wasn't carrying them on Easter morning!

Our death is not for our atonement: that was already done for us. We have, however, been given the privilege and honor of sharing our Bridegroom's Gethsemane and Calvary in smaller ways in our own lives. Happily, it does not stop there, and we also share in his resurrection, triumphantly throwing off the chains, leaving death behind, and bursting forth to give testimony to the power of God. What a joy!

Peter

Last Updated ( Tuesday, 20 October 2009 09:06 )

Hidden Manna

Friday, 19 September 2008 16:57 Peter

We are given the promise that those who overcome will be given the "Hidden Manna". For most of us, we probably think of the time that we will be in Heaven, and are face to face with the One that called Himself the Bread of Life. I would like to suggest that this promise needn't be relegated just to the distant future. Consider the young nation of Israel for a moment: wandering in the wilderness, they needed food to eat. It is interesting to see how God addressed this need. It was entirely within His power to provide more than one day's worth of food at a time. If He had led them to a huge storehouse of food, they would have come to depend on that, instead of on Him. His method required them to get up each day, and gather only enough for that day. Those who disobeyed and gathered more found that hoarding was unprofitable.

With His promise to give us the hidden manna, God is offering us the opportunity to learn to trust in Him. We awake in the morning with absolutely nothing in our spiritual bank accounts. He credits us with one day's worth of strength, wisdom, endurance, and whatever else we will need. At the end of the day, it is all spent, and our account is zero again.

While it may be easy to think of this arrangement as God having us over a barrel, there is a point to it. He is a God of relationships, and He wants us to walk with Him and talk with Him every day. If everything were given to us, and spelled out a year ahead of time, we would be very likely to forget about Him long before the year is over. As it is, we are forced to go to Him daily for the gifts He gives, and if we allow it, we will soon find that the Giver is much greater than the gifts.

In the case of the manna, what does it mean to be an overcomer? It means accepting the fact that God wants to meet us every morning, trusting that He will never fail us, and refusing to give in to the temptation to try to "stock up" on His blessings. If we do these things, He will fulfill His promise to give us the hidden manna.

Last Updated ( Thursday, 25 June 2009 19:12 )

To Go No More Out

Tuesday, 09 June 2009 20:14 Peter Anderson

Him that overcometh will I make a pillar in the temple of my God, and he shall go no more out: and I will write upon him the name of my God, and the name of the city of my God, which is new Jerusalem, which cometh down out of heaven from my God: and I will write upon him my new name. (Rev 3:12)

To go no more out. This is a thought that carries meaning to one who is a sojourner and an alien on the earth. There is more significance, however, for one who has spent much time away from home. The thought of being away from the ones we love, from the comforts of home, or from the place where we are loved, is one that can make the heart ache.

God promises to the overcomer that he or she will be made a pillar in the temple of God, and that they will go no more out. My heart is pulled to this truth like a thirsty man to a cold mountain stream. Thirst that goes beyond a dry mouth has been experienced. A thirst where one no longer perspires, where food is no longer appealing, and the body or soul cries out in anguish.

To go no more out. To be quenched of my thirst, and to be home.

A pillar is stationary, is part of the building, would be missed if it was gone. A pillar signifies strength, and beauty as well, most certainly.

I am being made into a thing of strength and beauty, a creation of God's hand. Not just a brick in a remote wall in the basement somewhere, but something that God desires to write His name upon.

What does it mean to overcome? This question may not have an easy answer, but God's word says, "This is the work of God, that ye believe". Believing in God, in the word of God, and in the promises of God is something that takes practice and exercise. This particular promise states that we will be made a pillar, and that we will never go out. Is this for the "by and by", or can we abide in God's presence today? Can we state that we are there even when He seems far away? Can I state in faith that I am "at home", even when I am sojourning on this earth? Why not? I believe that exercising faith in this respect is part of what makes me an overcomer, and as an overcomer, I can begin to experience the fulfillment of God's promise to make me a pillar.

Last Updated ( Tuesday, 20 October 2009 09:05 )

Her Knight in Dented Armor?

Sunday, 23 August 2009 15:00 Peter Anderson

As often as I have heard the phrase, "A knight in shining armor", and as much as it paints a beautifully gallant picture, I fear that I have not been fully comfortable with it. Perhaps the idea of shining armor seems a little unrealistic to me. There is the sense that the armor that I am wearing has been to battle with me, and as a result, is no longer shiny. My armor has received scratches and dents, and I have received bruises, because while it has succeeded in protecting my life and my faith, it was never intended to be comfortable, or to prevent pain.

I think it is useful for me to become comfortable with this thought, because as a human, I can be tempted to fear an undertaking that appears to be unattainable. This pretty picture of me sitting tall, with my armor catching the rays of the sun, on a horse that is undoubtedly white, makes me feel that I would be presumptuous to see myself in that role.

The problem with giving in to this fear, or thinking it has to be that pretty picture or nothing, is that it provides an excuse to abdicate the role that God has ordained for me as a husband. What role is that? Ephesians 5:25-27 describes part of what it means:

25 Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself up for it; 26 that he might sanctify it, having cleansed it by the washing of water with the word 27 that he might present the church to himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish. (ASV)

The first few words begin to make an impact, but when verse 26 and 27 comes along, one begins to think of the way that Christ, by sacrificing Himself, made his bride spotless, holy, and without blame. It was loving of Him to do that, wasn't it? The problem is that this is the kind of love that husbands are commanded to give to their wives. I am commanded to lay down my desires, my will, and my pride, for the joy of seeing her as spotless, holy, and without blame. For over a decade, I have set this as a goal, with the sense that it has been my human limitation that kept me from loving as much as Christ loved. More recently, though, I have begun to accept the power of God in me through Christ, and have declared, that I can, in fact, do ALL things through Christ who strengthens me. Because of this, there is no longer any excuse to not love as Christ loved. The battle is no longer whether I can or not, but the uncomfortable fact that somewhere in my flesh, I am not consistent with WANTING to love someone that much. I would prefer to not put the flesh to death sometimes, I am afraid. There are times when I would like to justify myself rather than her.

Now, before anyone rises up in arms in defense of my wife in particular, let me say that my reluctance is not a reflection on my wife, but a reflection of the fact that the battle of flesh against spirit is still being fought within me. It is now no longer the difficulty of the task that makes me uncomfortable, because it is really Jesus loving through me, and not me loving. Instead, the thing that makes me uncomfortable is the fact that now I know I can do it, but still fail to obey.

Rather than punishing myself for this, however, I return to Christ, in whom is all grace, and ask for forgiveness, reaffirming my faith that He can fulfill the law in me, and reaffirming my desire to have Him do so.

So, what does this have to do with dented armor? To me, it means "no excuses". I may not look like my own picture of perfection, and probably not like someone else's picture of perfection, but Christ has chosen to call me blameless. Maybe my armor is shiny after all!