Month: February 2021

“No one ever spoke like this man!” Even his enemies had to admit it.
Jerusalem was teeming with travelers during the Feast of Booths, and Jesus was teaching in the temple. A new excitement was in the air. And controversy. Some said he was a good man; others thought he was leading people astray (John 7:12).
The Pharisees overheard the muttering and conspired with their political rivals, the chief priests, to send officers to arrest Jesus, if he were to misspeak. The officers were there, on the last day of the feast, when Jesus stood up and cried out, like no one else would dare,

If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, “Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.” (John 7:37–38)

The people were first stunned, then divided. Some wondered if this was the Prophet who was to come. Or even the Christ himself. Others argued back that David’s heir would not come from Galilee. The officers, equally stunned, returned with empty hands, and open mouths, to the chief priests and Pharisees who ask, “Why did you not bring him?”
John then reports, as he loves to do, a word on the lips of Jesus’s enemies that is even more true than they know: “No one ever spoke like this man!” (John 7:46).
All Things Well
Indeed, the words and teaching of Jesus are unparalleled, even as a tension runs through his ministry, from start to finish. Time and again, his fame spread because of his miracles. Word spread like wildfire because of his works. People wanted to see what the Gospel of John calls “signs.” Yet Jesus never self-identified as a miracle-worker. He was a teacher whose words amazed his hearers as much as his healings. And more.

“We are stewards and heralds of the message of another.”

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Nicodemus captures it well, even though he still has much to learn, when he comes to Jesus at night in John 3: “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with him” (John 3:2). The signs point. The works that dazzle the eyes are meant to open ears to words from a teacher come from God.
Himself the Word of God, Jesus’s words were like the words of no other man, before him, in his day, or since. He opened his mouth to teach, and soon “all the people were hanging on his words” (Luke 19:48).
Amazed and Astonished
Even at age twelve, two decades before he went public as a teacher, his words amazed and astonished as he sat among the teachers in the temple: “all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers. And when his parents saw him, they were astonished” (Luke 2:47–48).
When Jesus spoke, his words, not just his works, were arresting. Not only did he “amaze” the crowds with miracles (Mark 1:27; 2:12; 5:42), but he “amazed” his disciples with his teaching (Mark 10:24, 32). As the masses were “astonished” at his works (Mark 7:37; Luke 5:9; 9:43; 11:38), so even more, for those with ears to hear, they were “astonished” at his words (Mark 1:22; 6:2; 10:26; 11:18).
Significantly, Matthew reports, at the end of his famous Sermon on the Mount, “when Jesus finished these sayings, the crowds were astonished at his teaching, for he was teaching them as one who had authority, and not as their scribes” (Matthew 7:28–29). And when he taught in his hometown, Nazareth, “they were astonished, and said, ‘Where did this man get this wisdom and these mighty works?’” (Matthew 13:54).
When he moved on to the next town, Capernaum, “they were astonished at his teaching, for his word possessed authority” (Luke 4:32). And when it seemed to matter most, during his passion week, with the chief priests trying to trip him up, he not only answered flawlessly but went on the offensive. “And when the crowd heard it, they were astonished at his teaching” (Matthew 22:33).
They Marveled
Even more than “amazed” and “astonished,” the Gospels report that Jesus’s hearers often marveled. The people, and his own men, “marveled” not only at his displays of power (Luke 8:25; 9:43; 11:14) but also his teaching. They “marveled at the gracious words that were coming from his mouth” (Luke 4:22).
When the Pharisees “plotted how to entangle him in his words” (Matthew 22:15), they did not yet know what a fool’s errand that would be. They thought they might get him with the politically dangerous question, “Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?” (Matthew 22:17). Jesus, aware of their malice, called them on it: “Why put me to the test, you hypocrites?” (Matthew 22:18).
Then he undid them with three succinct words: an object lesson, a leading question, and one of the single greatest lines in the history of the world. Object lesson: “Show me the coin for the tax” (Matthew 22:19). They brought it to him. Then leading question: “Whose likeness and inscription is this?” (Matthew 22:20). All knew the answer: “Caesar’s.” Finally, the word that made even enemies “marvel” (Matthew 22:22; also Mark 12:17): “Therefore render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s” (Matthew 22:21).
Luke reports the upshot: “they were not able . . . to catch him in what he said, but marveling at his answer they became silent” (Luke 20:26). He could open his mouth and make them put their hands over theirs. Which brings us back to John 7 and the clearest teaching from Jesus as to what made his teaching so marvelous.
What Was It About His Words?
In John 7, as Jesus taught during the feast, the establishment “marveled” and asked, “How is it that this man has learning, when he has never studied?” (John 7:15).

“For Christians, ‘for the glory of God’ is not a throwaway phrase.”

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Jesus then answers with the most focused and penetrating words he has to say about his words. Here he pulls back the curtain, as it were, and teaches about his teaching. In doing so, he gives us a profound insight, in three layers, as to what sets his words and teaching apart. His teaching, he says, is not from me, not of me, and not for me.
Not from Me: Teaching Not His Own
First, Jesus’s not operating under his own authority is a pronounced theme in the Gospel of John. “The Son can do nothing of his own accord,” he says (John 5:19). Again, “I can do nothing on my own” (John 5:30). He is not autonomous, as modern people like to pretend. “I do nothing on my own authority,” he says in John 8:28, “but speak just as the Father taught me.” So also in his coming — from above — he does not come “of my own accord” (literally, “from myself,” John 7:28; 8:42). Rather, his words as a teacher are rooted in the mission of the one who sent him.
Jesus does not teach “from himself” — from his own authority, as his own source — but in the authority of another: his Father. And so, here in John 7:17, he makes it clear that he is not “speaking on my own authority.”
Pastors and teachers today do well to take note. If Christ himself speaks not on his own authority, then how much more do we not? The call to Christian teaching — to teach as the God-man did — is not a call to share our opinions or preferences or latest hot take. Christian teaching is increasingly at odds with the pattern of teaching in the world and its penchant for self-expression. God gave us a Book. Like Christ himself, we do not teach “from ourselves.” We are stewards and heralds of the message of another, of Christ, just as he modeled for us in receiving, and teaching, the words of his Father.
Not of Me: Teaching Not Even His
The distinction between “not from me” and “not of me” is subtle but presses the issue to another degree. Jesus opens in John 7:16 with this puzzling statement: “My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me.” How could your teaching not be yours?
The question in verse 16, we might say, is not authority but ownership. It’s one thing to point to a source (or authority) outside oneself; it’s another to then take it a step farther. Not only is my teaching not from me, Jesus says; but my teaching isn’t even mine. A teacher might point to another as the source of his teaching and yet still claim his teaching, once it has come from his mouth, to be his. Jesus does not.
Again, if true for Jesus, how much more so for us today who teach in his name? We might readily admit that our teaching is “not from me” — but from God, from Christ, from the Book — and then feel a good deal of ownership about my teaching, my content, my “intellectual property.”
How prone are we to assume that once we have received God’s words, and studied them, and found our way to teach them, that then in some sense, even admitting they’re not from us, our teaching is ours. But not so for Jesus. Here is a kind of openhandedness about “his teaching” that is unusual, even strange — though it comes into focus once he takes us to the bottom.
Not for Me: Teaching Not for His Own Glory
Finally, in John 7:18, Jesus bring us to the bedrock: “The one who speaks on his own authority seeks his own glory; but the one who seeks the glory of him who sent him is true, and in him there is no falsehood.”
Beneath this enigma of “his teaching” not being “his,” in some sense, is bracing clarity: who gets the glory? Whose honor is it for? Whose glory do I seek with my words, my teaching? In the world, the answer is often painfully plain: the teacher seeks his own. He teaches for his own glory, his own benefit, his own advancement, his own self-expression. Tragically, even among some teachers in the church, the same can be true. Our hearts are prone to wander, pastors included, and gravitate to the pursuit of our own private benefit and selfish interests.
Yet the God-man himself — fully God, yes, and among us as fully man — seeks not his own glory in his teaching but pursues the glory of the one who sent him. And again, if so for Christ, how much more for those today who teach in his name?
The Man Christ Jesus
John 7:18, from the lips of Christ himself, may well be the single most important insight into what made the words and teaching of Christ so powerful. Why were the crowds so often amazed and astounded, why did they marvel, why did they hang on his words, and say, “No one ever spoke like this man”? Because no man ever lived for the name and glory of God like the man named Jesus (John 17:4, 6, 26). And what that consecration of mind and heart brought to his words made a difference everywhere he went, and every time he taught.
At bottom, Jesus, as the ultimate human, did not seek “his own glory” but the glory of him who sent him. On this, then, he professed that even his teaching was not his but his Father’s, even as he did not teach “from himself” but on his Father’s authority.
For Christians, “for the glory of God” is not a throwaway phrase. It is profoundly relevant, and transforming, on a daily and weekly basis in how we live, and how we speak. Jesus’s teaching — even more convincingly than his spectacular works — demonstrated to the world that he was true. His enemies could sense it, and couldn’t help but admit, “You are true and do not care about anyone’s opinion. For you are not swayed by appearances, but truly teach the way of God” (Mark 12:14). “Teacher, we know that you speak and teach rightly, and show no partiality, but truly teach the way of God” (Luke 20:21).
So too for true teachers today. Their words are not from them, not of them, and not for their own glory, which in time may well make God’s people marvel as he gives them ears to hear. […]

The Bible is a blood-earnest book. It’s a book about reality. And reality, as we know all too well, is often brutal and bloody. The Bible doesn’t sugarcoat this fact at all, but describes reality with disturbing forthrightness. Much of Scripture was written during brutal, bloody times by embattled, distressed, weary, even depressed authors. And at the pinnacle of the Bible’s story, at the core of the Bible’s message, is the Son of God dying a bloody death on a brutal Roman cross.
So, when we open our Bibles, rarely are we going to find a little light reading.
Even in the book of Psalms, this collection of inspired spiritual poetry that has brought immeasurable comfort to an incalculable number of saints across the centuries, we are frequently faced with distressing themes. In numerous psalms, we read writers’ wrestlings over what it means to trust the God they treasure as they witness some brutal and bloody reality, a reality that challenges their understanding or expectations of God’s promises and purposes.
These psalms fit into a category we call psalms of lament. In certain lament psalms, like Psalm 10, we’re reading an inspired author’s faith crisis captured in verse.
Can We Say That to God?
We see this immediately in the opening verse:

Why, O Lord, do you stand far away?     Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble? (Psalm 10:1)

That’s a remarkable thing to say to God. Could a Christian Hedonist actually pray this way?
Why would I ask that question that way? We at Desiring God believe that the Bible teaches an approach to life we call Christian Hedonism. We see in Scripture that a Christian is not someone who assents merely intellectually to core Christian propositional truth claims. A Christian loves God with all his heart (Matthew 22:37), values God as his greatest treasure (Matthew 13:44–46; Philippians 3:7–8; Hebrews 11:24–26), and seeks God as the source of his greatest and longest-lasting pleasure (Psalm 16:11). The triune God of the Bible is to be a Christian’s “exceeding joy” (Psalm 43:4). Summarized in a sentence, Christian Hedonists believe Scripture teaches that God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.
We can certainly find lots of Christian Hedonistic prayers in the Psalms, like Psalm 73:25–26,

Whom have I in heaven but you?     And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.My flesh and my heart may fail,     but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

But what about Psalm 10, where the writer laments his agonizing bewilderment over unjust, greedy, violent acts against innocent, helpless people? He’s not only disturbed by the wicked acts he’s witnessed; he’s disturbed that the wicked are prospering from their wickedness. And God, the righteous Judge, appears to be letting it happen. So, in typical biblical candor, he asks God, “Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?” If a person truly loves, trusts, and treasures God above all else, can he pray like that? Can someone who rejoices in God ever lament God’s apparent distance and disregard?

“A faith crisis should not be confused with faith abandonment.”

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In short, yes. In fact, Christian Hedonists pray to God this way at certain times because he is our “exceeding joy,” because we treasure him, because we love him. And because sometimes God’s ways and timing are agonizingly difficult to grasp. We see this sorrowful-yet-rejoicing dynamic in the brutal realities of Psalm 10.
Why Did God Feel Far?
First, we need to understand what was troubling this psalmist. He pours out his distress:
“In arrogance the wicked hotly pursue the poor [because he is] greedy for gain” (Psalm 10:2–3).
He “curses and renounces the Lord” (even denies God’s existence) (Psalm 10:3–4).
“His mouth is filled with cursing and deceit and oppression” (Psalm 10:7).
“In hiding places he murders the innocent” (Psalm 10:8).
“He seizes the poor when he draws him into his net” (Psalm 10:9).
The poor are being exploited and even slaughtered by someone in a position of power (perhaps more than one) for the sake of financial benefit. The victims are in a “helpless” or defenseless position and so “are crushed, sink down, and fall by [the wicked person’s] might” (Psalm 10:10). These would be unspeakable deeds, except that silence would only compound the injustice of it all. Therefore, like Jeremiah, the psalmist “cannot keep silent” (Jeremiah 4:19).
What Faith Sounds Like in Crisis
The psalmist strives to put the wickedness he sees into words. We can sense his righteous anger. Such horrible oppression and injustice should make him (and us) angry.

“Sooner or later, every Christian experiences a faith crisis — some of us numerous ones.”

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But though the psalmist is addressing God with urgent earnestness, I don’t believe his anger is directed toward God. It’s directed toward the wicked who are wreaking such destruction. The psalmist is turning to God with his burning indignation toward evil perpetrators, and his tearful compassion toward victims because his hope is in God to bring justice and deliverance to bear. That’s why he prays.
We too witness, and sometimes are victims of, such wicked injustices. In our day, innocent, defenseless unborn babies are legally murdered, and children as well as vulnerable or entrapped adults are trafficked for sex, all financially profiting those perpetrating the injustices. In the face of such things, we cannot keep silent. First and foremost, before God. Out of compassion for afflicted ones and righteous anger toward perpetrators, we pour out our lamenting hearts to the God in whom we hope (Psalm 43:5) and from whom we receive hope (Psalm 62:5).
Learning to Cry Out in Crisis
But still, those opening lines of the psalm sound like God is the recipient of at least some of the psalmist’s anger:

Why, O Lord, do you stand far away?     Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble? (Psalm 10:1)

If that’s not anger or disillusionment or disappointment, what is it? It’s putting into words the painful perplexity of a crisis of faith.
Now, a faith crisis should not be confused with faith abandonment. Nearly every saint experiences faith crises of different kinds, and typically we must endure faith crises in order for faith to grow and strengthen — more on that in a moment. But the clearest evidence that this psalmist is not forsaking God is the presence of this psalm — the psalmist is praying! And in his prayer, he’s doing with God what all of us do with those we love and cherish deeply who act (or seem not to act) in ways we don’t understand: he’s honestly expressing his confusion and pain.
The psalmist’s soul is troubled that his biblically informed knowledge of God’s character does not seem to match the reality he’s observing. He believes “God is a righteous judge” (Psalm 7:11) who “executes justice” for the helpless and vulnerable (Deuteronomy 10:18). But he’s not seeing justice executed for the helpless and vulnerable. He’s seeing the wicked oppressor of the helpless “prosper at all times” (Psalm 10:5). Why God isn’t immediately stopping this injustice is beyond him. It’s a moment of crisis for him, and he’s telling God so.
I think it wrong, however, to assume that, because the psalmist asks God why he seems distant or hidden, he’s blaming God or scolding God for neglecting his responsibilities. What he’s doing is describing his experience of reality — the way the situation appears to him through his finite senses. And the reason he’s praying this way is precisely because he cares so deeply for God, because he loves and trusts God.
This is a faithful Christian response to a faith crisis. When we are painfully perplexed by the apparent discontinuity between what we know of God from the Scripture and what we observe in the world, when the mystery of God’s providential purposes meets the finiteness of our understanding, and it doesn’t make sense to us, God wants us to cry out to him. He wants us to cry out to him precisely because we love and trust him, even when our experience challenges what we believe.
Forging Christian Hedonists
The fact that the Bible speaks so honestly about reality is part of its self-authenticating quality; unvarnished honesty is one sign of sincerity and truth. And the fact that the Bible features a psalmist’s faith crisis over the problem of evil is part of why the Psalms have comforted so many for so long; we experience such crises too.
Sooner or later, every Christian experiences a faith crisis — some of us numerous ones. But a crisis of faith does not mean a loss of faith. In fact, it is often through faith crises that we learn what faith really is.

“The forging of a Christian Hedonist often occurs in the fires of a faith crisis.”

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Scripture is full of accounts of saints enduring many kinds of faith crises, where the God who governs reality, in all its bloody brutality, does not meet the saints’ understanding and expectations, leading those saints to wrestle deeply. The Hebrews 11 “Hall of Faith” is lined with such saints, who through crises learned what it really means to “walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7).
I mentioned earlier that Christian Hedonists love to pray Psalm 73:25–26:

Whom have I in heaven but you?     And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.My flesh and my heart may fail,     but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

What I didn’t mention is that Psalm 73 is another account of a faith crisis, and this prayer is part of the fruit of that crisis. So, when your own crises come, don’t assume your faith, love, and joy are gone, but that God wants to grow them in the furnace of affliction. Because the forging of a Christian Hedonist often occurs in the fires of a faith crisis. […]

Editor’s note: Bunmi is deeply honest with God. She’s funny and poignant. In these often short and sweet, funny, heart-felt, sometimes sad or angry prayers you’ll feel like you’ve met a friend who gets it.
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Dear God,
I know you do a lot. They say you hold the atmosphere together with your hands and command the sun to rise each morning. You know what I’d trade for all of that? Knowing without a doubt that you care. Drop the atmosphere and hold me.
Me
*
Dear God,
Why did you make spiders? Were you mad? Did you think they were cute with all those legs? I respect you, but I don’t think spiders were your best work. Unless you wanted us to live in fear, in which case, I say, “Mission accomplished.”
Love,
Me
*
Dear God,
This broken, bloody world, my broken, bloody life. Is this your masterpiece? Are our tears and bones your mediums? How can I pretend you care about me in a world where innocents suffer? How can I pretend to matter? You don’t know how badly I crave your attention, or maybe you do. I hate it here.
Love,
Me
*
Dear God,
Why can’t butter be healthy? Are mushrooms really even food? Why didn’t you make seedless pomegranates? You know we’d love that. It’s like a puzzle. Isn’t life hard enough? Why is the mango seed so big? Like, really big? It easily takes up half the mango. Is there a lesson in that?
Like, for every mango in life, is there a big seed? Sorry, I’m hungry.
Love,
Me
*
Dear God,
I decided not to believe in you. I was upset. Devastated, actually. Tired of feeling like I’m speaking into empty air. But that’s not true. I can feel you almost all the time. I was tired of being in pain. You could have rescued me if you wanted to, but you didn’t. That made me so sad. And angry. So I renounced you in my soul and turned my back. For three solid hours.
Did you miss me? I’m still kind of mad.
Me
*
Dear God,
Thank you for
good hugscups of teabonfiresthe sound of rainthe kind of laughter that only gets more intense when youtry to stop brick wallsgood graffitistrangers with kind eyesstrangers who don’t look at you when you’re crying in public quiet, deep peopleloud, animated peopleresponsible peoplemessy people (Hi)my beduntouched snowhoodiesbuttered popcorncrisp applesiced coffeefresh doughnutssocks of all kindsolive oildistressed woodblankets
Me
*
Dear God,
Assuming I get to heaven, I don’t want neighbors.
Me
*
Dear God,
Forgiving someone who isn’t sorry feels like washing a car that isn’t mine. Why should I do it? Because you forgive me over and over? You’re literally God though. I’m a trash human. Please help me forgive. If only because the anger is slowly but surely choking me.
Me
*
Dear God,
Why do you hide? Is it because you want me to seek? I’m tired. And lost. And tired. Come out.
Love,
Me
*
Dear God,
Caterpillars are gross. Butterflies are beautiful. I see what you did there.
Love,
Me
*
Dear God,
You saved me. You’ve saved me more than once, and I don’t know why. I go back and forth between gratitude and sadness. The pain could’ve been over, but it would have just begun — like the worst baton pass of all time — for the ones I love the most. So I’m here. Why me? There have been so many others you didn’t save, whose souls you didn’t give another chance, so why me?
A blanket of thankfulness and nothingness is draped over me. Nothing feels right. You brought me back, but where are you? I’m alone.
Me
*
Dear God,
Thanks for coffee.
That is all.
Love,
Me

*
Dear God,
I can feel your compassion surrounding me. In these moments when I feel your gentle eye on me, I know you’re my father, and I’m not afraid. Stay.
Me
Excerpted with permission from Dear God by Bunmi Laditan, copyright Bunmi Laditan.

Watch Bunmi on Hoda and Jenna

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Your Turn
These prayers are so honest and simple. Sometimes, we make prayer too complicated. We don’t say what we mean, we try to keep secrets from God as if that’s possible. He already knows, so just tell Him about it. Let’s commit today to start speaking to Him about everything we’re thinking about and ask Him for a new nearness, a new sweetness. We need Him! ~ Devotionals Daily […]

Lord, You know the pain I’ve endured at the hands of others.I give myself to You, the Healer.I also submit to Your command to love everyone around me,including my enemies.May I not repay evil for evil.May my heart not wish harmfor those who have hurt me.Instead, I pray for Your blessing on them.Make me generous in grace and compassion,and strong enough to live at peace with everyone. I praise You because justice is in Your nature, and I trust You to carry out justice as You see fit, when You see fit.
You are God, and I am not.You are on the throne, and You say,“It is mine to avenge; I will repay” (Romans 12:19 NIV).
I give You honor, God,and leave room for You to dowhat Your wisdom says is just and right.
~C. M.

God, You’ve shown us what is good:to act justly and to do what is fair to others. You’ve sent Your Son to provide peaceand the bond of true fellowship.Open our eyes to the needs of others —of all the different types of people in this world. Lead us out of our comfort zonesso we can bless and build bondswith people who are different from us.Lead us in respectful service toward one another, treating each other as brothers and sisters.May we be instruments in Your handsas You bring Your kingdom of justice and peace. May we spread Your goodnessand bring many to join usin living close to You in Your glory and love.
~C. M.

O God, the King of righteousness,lead us in the ways of justice and peace,inspire us to break down all tyranny and oppression, to gain for every person what is due to them.May each live for all and all care for each.
~William Temple (1881–1944), adapted

Grant, O God, Your protection;and in Your protection, strength;and in strength, understanding;and in understanding, knowledge;and in knowledge, the knowledge of justice; and in the knowledge of justice, the love of it; and in the love, the love of existence; and in the love of all existence, the love of God and all goodness.
~Ancient Welsh prayer

God of love,You see all the suffering, injustice, and misery in this world.Have pity on what You have created. In Your mercy look upon the poor, the oppressed, the destitute,and all who are heavy-laden.Fill our hearts with deep compassion for those who suffer,and hasten the coming ofYour kingdom of justice and truth.
~Eugène Bersier (1831–1889)
Excerpted with permission from A Prayer for Every Occasion by Carrie Mars, copyright Zondervan.
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Your Turn
If you’ve suffered injustice at the hands of others, these prayers are for you to give to God. If you’re watching this hurting world and aching for the pain you see, these are prayers for you to cry out. Thy Kingdom come! ~ Devotionals Daily […]