Month: March 2021

I HELD MY BREATH.
My boyfriend and I had been talking about it for weeks, but honestly, I had hoped he’d forgotten about it. I slowly sauntered through the aisles of my favorite store, pausing in front of a line of curly haircare products.
“I think we should take that break,” he suggested.I paused and took a deep breath. “Okay,” I hesitantly replied. “We both need some time away to make sure that we’re hearing from God regarding our next steps.” “How long?”
“I’m thinking four weeks of no talking, followed by three weeks of text only. So seven weeks total.”
We set a date and stuck to it: July 11, 2017.
When we had our last conversation just before midnight, I began pacing the streets of Monroe Park in Washington, D.C. And then the clock struck midnight. There I was, alone. My safety net robed in human flesh, now gone.
Little did I know that God would use those seven weeks to orchestrate a radical shift in my life that would allow me to start over. The safety that I had found in my life just twenty-four hours prior would never again exist.
A few days after the beginning of our temporary break, my world began shifting. One bad product launch led to the prospect of either raising more capital for my business or making the difficult decision to sell. I spent weeks oscillating between babbling tears and steady composure. I was failing miserably. And to make matters worse, I couldn’t speak to the one person who knew me best. The most important decision of my life would be made without the person who held my security in his hands. At the end of the four weeks, the decision was final: I was selling the company.
I cried aloud to the Lord, and he answered me from his holy hill. Selah. — Psalm 3:4
Zimism – God will orchestrate circumstances to force your pause.
But would I have really made the decision to sell if I bounced this idea off of him beforehand? Probably not. You see,
God orchestrated this painful season in my life to bring me to a single moment of solitude
— a pivotal decision-making moment. And in that moment, He tested me. I would either run or stand.
The word selah is mentioned roughly seventy-four times in the Bible. Although its exact meaning is unknown, many scholars agree that its meaning necessitates two things: a pause and a praise.
But I didn’t feel like praising.
One by one, the team with whom I had built my successful company began to submit their resignation letters. Their faith in my leadership had all but diminished. My decision to keep our business small meant that we weren’t exploring new channels at a fast-enough pace, and my desire to keep a business centered on Christ wasn’t working either.
I was stubborn. A perfectionist even. My leadership training, despite my best efforts, wasn’t sticking. And as hard as I tried, I felt like no one understood me.
If I truly wanted to build something God-centered, I had to give up what wasn’t.
In a little under sixty days, the papers were signed. The deal was done. I no longer owned the company I started. In the months that followed, everything that my team had worked so hard to build became unrecognizable. I felt isolated and alone, with no one to talk to. I went through one of the greatest transformations of my life during this time, and all I could do was retreat and reflect on my failures and what I could have done differently — or what I might do differently now if given the chance.
I had given up what had been the most important marker of my identity for the past four years. Even though what I did was a sacrifice unto God, the darkest period of my life didn’t feel like an apt reward. I gave up my security. I felt abandoned by industry friends. I felt like less of myself than ever. And as much as I wanted out of the struggle, I stayed.
DON’T GUT THE FISH
The book of Jonah chronicles a man of the same name who rebelled against the instructions of God and fled from Nineveh. He was tossed into a tumultuous sea, only to be swallowed by a giant fish that God had appointed. Inside the fish’s belly, Jonah was faced with a decision: he could either force his way out of the fish — gutting it from the inside out — or he could embrace the stillness.
The situation couldn’t have been comfortable for Jonah. It was probably terrifying. He probably felt stranded, trapped on all sides even. But as he prayed to God, he didn’t pray for deliverance, like many would have.
It was only while being still, inside the fish, that he received revelation. There he was, trapped in the belly of this creature for three days and three nights. Instead of trying to escape, he made a declaration. He acknowledged his own shortcomings and thanked God, offering up a sacrifice of praise and proclaiming that God had the final say. Salvation belonged to Him.
Instead of trying to escape, he made a declaration.
In times like these, it’s important that we don’t find ourselves desiring deliverance more than revelation. Sometimes, when we don’t understand what’s happening around us, we just want the pain to stop. We want to press fast-forward on the season we’re currently in. We want to jump to the place where we already have the success, the money, and the prestige. We also want it without the pain, discomfort, or effort. Without the tears. Without the loneliness and isolation. But wanting out too early simply evades the process that God wants us to go through. It eliminates the growth we’ll experience if we stay the course.
Jonah fled God’s instruction because he knew that He was compassionate. He knew that God would forgive a nation that was wicked against Him. But it was that same compassion that led to his sympathetic prayer inside the belly of the fish.
Joseph, a man of God sold into slavery by his brothers, could interpret dreams. It was this same gift that allowed him to rise to power in the land of his affliction.
God has given each of us traits that we can use during hard times. There are countless examples of men and women of God being put to the test. But what is most noble and notable about their stories isn’t of their escape; it’s what happened when they endured. God has proven over and over that He will bless our endurance. He sees exactly what we’re going through and will respond at just the right time.
Zimism – The work that God wants to do in us requires both our pause and our praise.
And as much as we desire the rescue, we have to find comfort in the discord. The Bible tells us in Isaiah 66:9 that God will not cause pain without something new being born.
It is in the stillness of the storm that we will find peace.
It’s in the early mornings alone.It’s in our quiet time with the Lord.It’s in the silent sobs.
Refusing to gut the fish means that we’re committed to the assignment God has for us. It’s saying to God, “I know You brought me to this new place; I refuse to move back home.” It’s declaring that the goodness God has for us is just on the other side of the mission.
It is in the stillness of the storm that we will find peace.
When Jonah was delivered from the belly of the fish, he wasn’t regurgitated into the ocean to fend for himself. He didn’t have to swim miles back to shore. Even though he was tossed into the ocean in the middle of a storm, Jonah was delivered onto the safety of the shore. Jonah was delivered on firm ground with a fresh revelation of his assignment. “Then the word of the Lord came to Jonah the second time, saying, ‘Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and call out against it the message that I tell you’ ” (Jonah 3:1-2).
THE DARKEST HOURS
Even in our darkest hours, we are still under the protection of the Lord. We will never understand our purpose if we always gut the fish. Even Jesus retreated into solitude. And when He was tempted by the devil, He didn’t run. He stayed, eventually fulfilling His purpose.
What would have happened if I had gone running back to my boyfriend during our break? As godly a man as he was, God didn’t need someone else clouding my judgment or testing my obedience. He needed me to stay put and trust in His sovereignty.
If I hadn’t obeyed God and made that tough decision to sell, I wouldn’t be writing this book. I wouldn’t have had the crisis of faith that led me to a deeper relationship with Him. I wouldn’t be free from the opinions of other people. I wouldn’t have stayed in Chicago. And I wouldn’t have the depth and meaning in my marriage that I do now.
All that the Lord blessed me with was a direct result of my commitment to staying in the belly of the fish — not begging for deliverance but thanking God for the blessings to come. I thank Him — not for the hardship but for the assignment.
Choosing not to gut the fish is perhaps the most grueling part of it all. We know that God sees what’s happening, and sometimes it seems like cruel and unusual punishment. But how else will God grow us? Certainly not by laying out His entire plan in front of our eyes.
Zimism – Your God-given gifts will make room for unexpected pockets of grace for when you need it most.
Excerpted with permission from Dare to Bloom by Zim Flores, copyright Zimuzor Flores.
* * *
Your Turn
Are you going through a trial? Don’t gut the fish to try to escape your situation! Ask the Lord to develop you and hone you instead as you praise Him. Pause. Shift your perspective. Focus on Jesus! ~ Devotionals Daily […]

His eyes became bright. Jonathan put his sugar-coated hand to his mouth and displayed the power of one of God’s good gifts in his created world. It’s a power we all have known, indeed tasted, and yet many of us have grown so accustomed to it as to hardly recognize it anymore.

At that moment, what the weary, hungry army of Israel needed was fast energy. They “had been hard pressed that day” as they pursued the fleeing enemy, but their king, Saul, Jonathan’s father, made a rash vow: “Cursed be the man who eats food until it is evening and I am avenged on my enemies” (1 Samuel 14:24). In hot pursuit of their foe, the men entered a forest and found themselves surrounded by God’s provision: “behold, there was honey on the ground” (1 Samuel 14:25). Golden, viscous, liquid sugar — like the manna, which tasted of honey, that covered the ground for God’s people each morning in the wilderness (Exodus 16:14). God had provided. But Saul had made his foolish oath.

Jonathan, however, had not heard his father’s words. So he walked into the forest, received the divine gift, and “his eyes became bright” (1 Samuel 14:27). Just the quick energy he needed to finish off the foe. Just what the whole army needed.

Saul’s army did catch the enemy, and overcome them, but because of Saul’s rash vow not to eat, “the people were very faint.” In victory, they lost self-control, and “pounced on the spoil and took sheep and oxen and calves and slaughtered them on the ground. And the people ate them with the blood” (1 Samuel 14:31–32). What pain and misery they would have been spared if only, like Jonathan, they had “tasted a little honey” (1 Samuel 14:29, 43) to brighten their eyes and revive their strength.

In the end, their victory is not without grave and unnecessary difficulties. The people do redeem Jonathan from falling victim to the vow, and he declares his father’s folly:

My father has troubled the land. See how my eyes have become bright because I tasted a little of this honey. How much better if the people had eaten freely today of the spoil of their enemies that they found. For now the defeat among the Philistines has not been great. (1 Samuel 14:29–30)

“Honey is good — so good that it’s not good to eat much of it.”

Twice Jonathan says “a little honey.” Just a little did the trick. Too much would have made him all the worse for war. Yet, here, in this seemingly minor episode in the history of Israel, we have what might be an unnerving peek into our modern world, where we are surrounded by honey and have great difficulty limiting ourselves to just a little.

Spoonfuls of Sugar

From a historical perspective, it is stunning how much sugar we consume today. What came in a golden, sticky ooze in biblical times comes to us today as refined, white, granulated table sugar, already baked and boiled in excessive proportions into many of the foods and drinks we commonly consume. According to Jay Richards, “In 1700, Westerners ate very little sugar — say, four pounds per year. Even in 1850, we averaged only a few pounds per person per year. Now, each of us, on average, eats well over one hundred pounds of sugar per year . . . much of it in processed foods that don’t even taste sweet to us” (Eat, Fast, Feast, 42–43).

Estimates do vary. “Americans consume as much as 77.1 pounds of sugar and related sweeteners per person per year, according to the United States Department of Agriculture data” — but still — “That’s nearly twice the limit the department recommends, based on a 2,000-calorie diet” (“The Barbaric History of Sugar in America”). But what no one questions is that objectively, demonstrably, and almost without exception, we consume far more sugar today than humans have throughout history, barring only the last century.

Obesity among Americans has grown nearly 30 percent in just the last three decades, while the rate of diabetes has almost tripled. It would be naïve to consider sugar the only cause. And perhaps just as naïve to not consider the overconsumption of sugar to have played a significant, if not the major, part. And of course, none of us wants to hear that, because it just tastes so good.

Heavier, Slower, More Unhealthy

For many readers, this is not news. For more than a generation, a growing chorus of voices has been suspecting that “we are consuming way more sugar than our bodies are equipped to handle” (“What’s Wrong with the Modern Diet?”). “Equipped” — don’t miss that. By whom?

When dealing with the human body, it’s difficult for even the most ardent of evolutionists to avoid words like “equipped,” “built,” and “designed.” The human body and brain, with its abilities to move and adapt, is the most impressive masterpiece in all of physical creation, the crowning jewel, and culminating creation, of those first six days (Genesis 1:26–31).

God’s good design comes equipped to handle sugar — both the slow-release of glucose as digestion breaks down complex carbohydrates and its fast release from simple carbohydrates (none faster, and more difficult to handle, than when we drink sugar-water — soft drinks and juices).

Glucose, from sugar, can be a source of needed energy to the muscles, but it is toxic in the bloodstream. Our brains summon insulin to the rescue to remove it from our blood, and when muscles, which have little storage, are already well supplied, the sugar is converted to fat and stored in a nice central location — the waste and hips. Despite the popular myth that eating fat makes our bodies fat, it is the overconsumption of sugar, for most of us on the modern diet, that contributes far more to our undesired fat stores.

Tragically, generation by generation, those commissioned to image God in his created world are becoming heavier, slower, lazier, and more unhealthy, while a growing train of maladies like obesity, heart disease, high blood pressure, type 2 diabetes, stroke, and cancer shorten and encumber this vapor’s breath of our lives even more than they already are.

Little Theology of Honey

Many today might be surprised to find that the Scriptures have timeless truths to speak into our modern malaise about sugar.

Sugarcane was rare in the Middle East in biblical times, and may receive an obscure reference in one or two texts (“sweet cane” in Isaiah 43:24; Jeremiah 6:20). But what was not obscure, and is one of the great concentrated sources of glucose still, with the same essential sweetness as table sugar, is honey. There is “a little theology of honey” in the pages of Scripture — and those of us confused today about what to do, and not do, for ourselves and for our children, might get some fresh help and orientation from the biblical principles.

Good: Eat Honey

The Proverbs give us two key orienting words. The first is Proverbs 24:13:

My son, eat honey, for it is good, and the drippings of the honeycomb are sweet to your taste.

Sugar, and its being “sweet to your taste,” is God’s idea and good design. Not only do we have the story of Jonathan’s eyes becoming bright — characterized as a good thing — but again and again, beginning at the burning bush (Exodus 3:8), God promises to give his people a land, he says, “flowing with milk and honey” — which is emphatically and manifestly a good gift.

Honey is identified with sweetness, pleasantness to the taste (Ezekiel 3:3; Revelation 10:9, 10), as a lion with strength (Judges 14:18). God provided not only nourishment for his people in the wilderness, but manna tasted good — “like wafers made with honey” (Exodus 16:31).

God’s first-covenant people treated honey as a valuable product and resource: among the “choice fruits of the land” (Genesis 43:11), fit to give a king (2 Samuel 17:29) or prophet (1 Kings 14:3), or God himself as firstfruits in worship (2 Chronicles 31:5). Honey could be a mark of prosperity and abundance (Isaiah 7:15, 22), even royalty (Ezekiel 16:13). “Honey” even became an endearing name a husband and wife might co-opt for each other, as did the lovers in the Song of Songs (4:11; 5:1), and still today.

Not Good: Much Honey

However, honey is powerful enough to come with user warnings. This should be no surprise to Christians who have learned elsewhere — with marital intimacy, for instance — that God’s most precious, and sweetest, of gifts can be prime targets of our sinful world and flesh and the devil. Again, Proverbs sounds the orienting word:

It is not good to eat much honey, nor is it glorious to seek one’s own glory. A man without self-control is like a city broken into and left without walls. (Proverbs 25:27–28)

Not good to eat much honey. The pronounced good of honey calls for the virtue of self-control, the absence of which will soon destroy the benefit. So also, another warning proceeds it, earlier in the same chapter: “If you have found honey, eat only enough for you, lest you have your fill of it and vomit it” (Proverbs 25:16).

Professor Slughorn’s warning to his Hogwarts students about “Liquid Luck” potion might just as well be applied to sugar: “Too much of a good thing, you know . . . highly toxic in large quantities. But when taken sparingly, and very occasionally . . .”

Sugar-Coated, Growing Fat

Just as Jonathan did well in the forest to have “a little honey,” and not much, so do we today, surrounded as we are by the forest of sugar that is modern life. As with sex and alcohol, we learn to take some of the greatest care with God’s greatest of gifts because they are so potent. Honey is good — so good that it’s not good to eat much of it.

“Unlike honey and sugar, you cannot have too much of the sweetness of God.”

Consider what that momentary sweetness in the mouth, whether honey or sugar, has come to represent in common speech. “Sugar-coated” is no compliment; sugar has become symbolic for “empty calories,” for a momentary pleasure with a “crash” soon to follow. Proverbs 5:3 even warns that “the lips of a forbidden woman drip honey.” There is a paradigm here: feeling good in the moment, with great regret and disgust to follow (Proverbs 9:17; 20:17; Job 20:12).

Even before God brought his people into that “land flowing with milk and honey,” he warned of what such luxuries would produce in them because of their sin — warnings we too should take seriously today. Over time, they would forget to handle his gifts with care:

When I have brought them into the land flowing with milk and honey, which I swore to give to their fathers, and they have eaten and are full and grown fat, they will turn to other gods and serve them, and despise me and break my covenant. (Deuteronomy 31:20)

In sin, God’s people came to presume his gifts and eventually forsake him. Even the “honey out of the rock” he provided to keep them alive in the wilderness (Deuteronomy 32:13; Psalm 81:16) they came to take lightly: “But Jeshurun grew fat, and kicked; you grew fat, stout, and sleek; then he forsook God who made him and scoffed at the Rock of his salvation” (Deuteronomy 32:15).

What We Learn from Sugar

Honey is indeed a divine creation and gift. Sugar is a good to handle with care. A gift from God to delight our tastes — and teach us of himself. Taste honey, he says. See how good it is, and ponder how the one who made it is every bit that good, and far better.

Not only is our God one who provides honey for his people in the wilderness, sweetness in the midst of our grueling times, but his words are “sweeter also than honey and drippings of the honeycomb” (Psalm 19:10). “How sweet are your words to my taste,” celebrates Psalm 119:103, “sweeter than honey to my mouth!”

And unlike honey and sugar, you cannot have too much of the sweetness of God. And our desire for more of him just might help with our penchant today to swing from overconsumption to overreaction and back.

A biblical theology of honey speaks a chastening word to both sides of today’s sugar divide. Apart from the guidance from God’s word, we are prone to gravitate to extremes: misusing God’s good gift through presumption and overconsumption, or misguided avoidance and overreaction, treating as evil, or simply toxic, what he has given as good.

Enjoy “a little honey” — it is good — so good that it’s not good to eat too much. […]

Jesus spoke many profound and important words to his disciples the night before his crucifixion. But there’s one statement we might easily pass over, because of the context in which he made it. Yet it is loaded with personal meaning for each of us who follows him:

What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand. (John 13:7)

In that one sentence, Jesus captures a profound reality that is our frequent, and to some extent continual, experience as Christians: not understanding what God is doing (or not doing) and why. It’s crucial that we grasp the wider implications of what Jesus said here, for if we do, it will help each of us immensely during the times we wonder why our Good Shepherd is leading us down such confusing and painful paths.

We often do not know what God is doing now. And the crucial truth is, we don’t need to know what God is doing now to follow him in faith.

You Do Not Understand Now

During that Last Supper, Jesus did something strange. He removed his outer garments, tied a towel around his waist, grabbed a basin of water, and proceeded to wash each disciple’s feet. I doubt this hits any of us with the force it did the disciples since the cultural mores of that region and time are so distant and foreign to us. But to the disciples, it felt more than strange; it felt disorientingly inappropriate.

“We are never on more dangerous ground than when we believe we understand better than God.”

It sure did to Peter. All his life, he had understood that washing someone else’s feet was about as demeaning a task as anyone could perform — a task fit only for slaves, or, if lacking those, for children. It would have been disgraceful for men of honor. So, as he watched Jesus, the most honored Person in the world, humbling himself by taking the form of a common slave, washing off with his own holy hands God only knew what uncleanness clung to those feet, he felt indignant. This was completely backward! If anything, Peter should be on his knees washing his Lord’s feet.

When Jesus got to Peter, the earnest disciple pulled his feet back and asked, “Lord, do you wash my feet?” Jesus looked at Peter and with patient kindness replied, “What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand” (John 13:7).

And there it is: a massive principle for every Christian’s life of faith, indeed a summary of a motif woven throughout Scripture from beginning to end, captured in a simple reply to a confused disciple’s question.

Legacy of Little Understanding

Peter, in not understanding why Jesus was doing what he was doing at that moment, was in very good company. Redemptive history recounts story after story of saints finding themselves in this perplexing position, being forced to trust God to make sense of it later. Think of:

Abraham, having waited so long for Isaac, only to be instructed by God to offer the boy as a sacrifice (Genesis 22);
Jacob wrestling with God, and being lamed in the hip, just before he was to meet Esau (Genesis 32);
Joseph wondering what God was doing as his young adulthood wasted away in an Egyptian prison (Genesis 37–41);
Moses not understanding why God would choose him to lead Israel out of Egypt (Exodus 3–4);
Gideon being given far more than he could possibly handle (Judges 7);
Jehoshaphat being instructed to send a choir as his military vanguard against an overwhelming foe (2 Chronicles 20);
Nehemiah having to deal with so many seemingly unnecessary adversities, obstacles, and inefficiencies that slowed down the work in rebuilding Jerusalem’s walls (Nehemiah 4);
Joseph trying to navigate so many unforeseen, confusing detours in the first few years of Jesus’s life (Matthew 1–2);
The man born blind, who didn’t know until midlife what purposes God could possibly have in his suffering (John 9);
And Martha’s and Mary’s grief-laced bewilderment over why Jesus didn’t come to heal Lazarus (John 11).

Of course, that’s just a small sample. Not understanding what God is doing now (and having to wait till later to understand) is the experience, to greater or lesser degrees, of every saint in every age — whether “later” means within a few minutes, as it did for Peter during the Last Supper, or in the age to come, as it did for his fellow disciple James, who wasn’t delivered from execution (Acts 12:1–2). It is a necessary, humbling part of what it means for us to “walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7).

You Must Trust Me

Being content to not understand now doesn’t come naturally to us. It surely didn’t for Peter. He found Jesus’s reply perplexing. And patience not being one of his strong suits, he didn’t wish to wait till later to understand. So, he declared, “You shall never wash my feet” (John 13:8).

It seems to me that Peter simply didn’t want to dishonor his Lord. This may have been well-intended, but it was wrongheaded. In responding this way, Peter actually became guilty of what he was trying to avoid: dishonoring Jesus. For the great dishonor wasn’t Peter allowing Jesus to wash his feet; it was Peter’s not trusting what Jesus said. And this is a crucial point for us to note: We are never on more dangerous ground than when we believe we understand better than God.

“We don’t need to understand God’s purposes now; what we need to do is trust God’s purposes now.”

I think Jesus fully discerned Peter’s well-intended motive. But he also discerned the danger of Peter’s wrongheaded, overly self-confident tendency to trust his own understanding. Which is why Jesus’s response was so serious. It shocked Peter to his core. “If I do not wash you, you have no share with me” (John 13:8). No share with me. Distrust in this meant exclusion. Peter got the point immediately and repented by exclaiming, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” (John 13:9).

And what was Jesus’s point? Peter, you must trust me. You must live by the ancient proverb, and trust what I say with all your heart, and not lean on your own understanding (Proverbs 3:5). The only way you as a branch will abide and be fruitful in this Vine is if you believe my word (John 15:1–5, 7). If you insist that you must understand now before you will trust me, you will be like a branch broken off, and you will spiritually wither and die (John 15:6).

You Don’t Need to Understand Now

Many of the experiences that confound us as we follow Jesus feel far more painful and confusing than foot-washing. Peter would sympathize; most of his confounding experiences were far more painful and confusing than that too. Just think of what desolation was approaching for Peter in the hours following this brief mealtime interchange. Sometimes it’s lessons we learn in less extreme moments that stand in clearest relief and help steady us during more extreme ones.

The plain fact is, we often do not know what God is doing now. And the crucial truth is, we don’t need to know what God is doing now to follow him in faith. God has his reasons for concealing his purposes. Sometimes it has to do with his timing, as it did for Peter. And sometimes, because God’s ways and thoughts are so beyond ours (Isaiah 55:8–9), it’s simply God’s mercy toward us to withhold knowledge too heavy for us to bear.

We don’t need to understand God’s purposes now; what we need to do is trust God’s purposes now. For it is through our trust, not our own understanding, that God will direct us along our confusing paths (Proverbs 3:6). And we can trust him that later, when the time is right in the near or distant future, he will give us all the understanding we need. […]

If I could choose one fundamental hope Christians center our faith around, it would be Jesus’ proof that even death can be overcome. He is risen indeed, and lives! We have a Bible full of historical facts and promises as evidence.
Yes, we’re born with a finite earthly life, into what feels like a world of unknowns, but God knew the purpose from the very beginning. He offered his immeasurable power and inconceivable grace—in flesh and Spirit—to reconcile us to him eternally.
The fact that our Savior rose from the perceived grips of rejection, humiliation, abuse, and even death equips us to believe he will indeed make all things new (Revelations 21:5).
Christians celebrate the truth of the resurrection all year, but it comes sharply into focus each Easter. The empty cross takes on fresh significance as we revisit Jesus’ sacrifice during Holy Week.
And truly, a miracle so mind-blowing as resurrection from the grave bears repeating as we rejoice on Easter Sunday. As we proclaim “He is risen!” you may hear others doubly confirm, “He is risen indeed!”

But why is it worded this way? Let’s look at the history and heart of this phrase.
Photo Credit: © Unsplash/Yannick Pulver

The Meaning behind ‘He Is Risen Indeed’
The phrase “He is risen indeed” is actually a response that is part of a paschal greeting exchanged on Easter Sunday, primarily in Orthodox churches. And although divisions in denominations developed over history, Christians agree Christ is risen. It’s a gift we celebrate, regardless of how various churches plan Resurrection Sunday service, or over what weeks the occasion is honored.
The phrase as a paschal greeting is an Easter custom among Eastern Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox, Eastern Catholic, Latin Catholic, and Anglican Christians. Paschal is derived from the Greek word pascha, which is a transliteration of the Hebrew word pesach meaning Passover.
Pascha is the feast of the Resurrection of the Lord, during which fasting, processions, and chants are customary over a period of 12 weeks. Its timeframe doesn’t always precisely coincide with when the Western church celebrates Easter, but it commemorates the same divine resurrection.

During the feast of Pascha and throughout Ascension (a time known as Paschal season), the paschal greeting is exchanged around the world in over 50 languages. It’s heard informally during this time, and also recited during liturgical services in churches. Instead of greeting one another with typical hellos, the greeting begins with “Christ is risen!” And the given response is “He is risen, indeed!” or “Truly, he is risen!”
Some cultures (Russians, for example), also exchange a “triple kiss of peace” after the greeting. The kiss of peace is an ancient traditional Christian greeting, sometimes called a “holy kiss.” It signifies a blessing of “peace be with you.”
This greeting of “Christ is risen,” met with “He is risen indeed,” is an act of unity around the belief in Christ’s resurrection.
Is ‘Risen Indeed’ in the Bible?
It’s interesting to note that the Eastern Orthodox Church suggests Mary Magdalene initiated this now-popular saying when she announced Jesus’ miraculous resurrection to Emperor Tiberius in Rome, saying, “Christ is risen.”
Stories are told, though not confirmed, of an egg that turned red in Mary’s hands as she addressed the Emperor, which so impressed him, he had Pilate removed.
Whether or not a red egg factored into Mary’s announcement of “Christ is risen,” it was compelled by the witnessed (and since recorded) fact that Jesus was buried, rose, and appeared again before ascending into heaven.
All four Gospel accounts record the true story of Jesus’ followers discovering that he was risen, indeed. And although the narrative may not read word-for-word as a call-and-response greeting, two sections of Scripture in the New Revised Standard version point to its likely inspiration:
He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you. – Matthew 28:6-7
They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” – Luke 24:34
Why Christians Say ‘He Is Risen Indeed’
I believe Christians (no matter their timing, festivals, or denomination), express ‘joy of the Lord’ by sharing this beautiful phrase. It’s often shared in the Paschal season, or Easter, because this is a time set aside to remember that Jesus is truth, he offers life, and he is the way.
His prophesied arrival to call us to eternal life confirmed that God is with us, and death cannot keep us from him. Beyond whatever religious or pagan traditions we may enjoy, there was a stone rolled away and a Savior rose.
It’s worth mentioning that the word “indeed” originates from the the Middle English term “in dede” which means, “in truth, or in fact.”
Saying “indeed” either underscores that something is true, or it is used to segue into your next statement—that’s even more worth emphasizing. This is why when we recall that he is risen, we want to follow it with a resounding, “truth!” or “can’t top that!”
Best of all, Christianity.com explains that not only is Jesus risen, but by his resurrection, he raises us. Scripture is clear:
For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. – Romans 6:23
Because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. – Romans 10:9
Jesus didn’t only rise to show us. He rose to save us.
A Prayer to Celebrate That Jesus Is Risen Indeed
Dear Jesus,
Thank you for showing us what is true. Thank you for being our bridge, our Savior, and the way to eternal life in a world you will renew. This Easter, and all year, will you keep the flame of my joy for you burning? Will you remind me when things look bleak that you raise what may seem dead? Help me to not just hear that you are risen, but let me believe it in my bones, that because you are risen, indeed, we have a hope and a future worth celebrating.
Amen.
Sources: Gotquestions.org Wikipedia.org
Wikipedia.org Orthodoxwiki.org Vocabulary.com
Photo Credit: © Getty Images/Boonyachoat
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Lia Martin loves to inspire others to lean into the Lord daily. She’s a writer, editor, marketer, former Crosswalk.com Faith Editor, and author of Wisdom at Wit’s End: Abandoning Supermom Myths in Search of Supernatural Peace. When she’s not cultivating words, she loves walking in nature, reading, exploring the latest health trends, and laughing with her two wonderful kids. She blogs at liamartinwriting.com. […]

“…the joy of the LORD is your strength.” – Nehemiah 8:10 ESV
The world is full of calamity and heartbreak. Everyday, we bump up against sorrow, tragedy, and sickness. It can seem as though our world spins out of control. Yet, we do not have to lose hope, nor sight of the many blessings and beauty filling our lives each day. In the verse above, Nehemiah repeats three times for the people of Israel not to mourn and grieve, but to rejoice!
“They had just understood the words that were declared to them,” verse 12 reads. When we understand and know God’s word, we are able to see life through the filter of who God is. “God not only leads but protects, accepting responsibly for His people,” Candice Lucey writes. When truth reigns and rules in our lives, we take solace and hope that God is in sovereign control over every area of our lives and our world. “Sometimes we need to hear specific statements from God himself about his own authority,” Pastor John Piper explains, “We need God’s own words. It is the very words of God that have unusual power to settle our nerves, and make us stable, wise, and courageous.”
What a Christian Needs to Know about God’s Control
God so loved us, He sent His one and only Son to earth to die for us (John 3:16). It was God’s plan all along. Paul wrote to the Romans, “So then it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God, who has mercy.” (Romans 9:16) Mercy is part of God’s character. Just as he is faithful, holy, just, and sovereign, He is merciful. “Mercy, like grace, stands over against human worth and effort whenever salvation is concerned,” the Expositor’s Bible Commentary explains. “It is free, because God is not bound to show mercy to any.”
God forms us in the womb. He knows us and His purpose for us. Everything He does and allows is meant to draw us to Him. He wants a relationship with us, and made a way, through Christ, for that to happen, despite our sinful curse. “Salvation depends not on human will or exertion, but on God,” Pastor John Piper explains, “who has mercy.”

Timothy wrote that all Scripture was God-breathed. His Word is alive and active in our lives. When we open up the pages of our Bibles, we open access to the very wisdom and instruction of God. We do not exist out of coincidence but for the purpose in which God put in us to bring glory to Him. The prophecies of Jesus’ birth, life, death, and resurrection fulfilled were detailed! John wrote of Jesus’ crucifixion, “For these things took place that the Scripture might be fulfilled – ‘Not one of his bones will be broken’” (John 19:36 NIV). God is in control. Our joy is in the Lord. “The joy of the LORD would sustain them,” the Expositor’s Bible Commentary explains of Nehemiah 8:10.
Photo Credit: © Getty Images/ipopba

40 Verses about God being in Control
Deuteronomy 31:8 – The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you or forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.
Joshua 1:9 – Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD you God will be with you wherever you go.
1 Samuel 2:6-7 – The LORD brings death and makes alive; he brings down to the grave and raises up. The LORD sends poverty and wealth; he humbles and he exalts.

Job 34:18-19 – Is he not the One who says to kings, ‘You are worthless,’ and to nobles, ‘You are wicked,’ who shows no partiality to princes and does not favor the rich over the poor, for they are all the work of his hands?
Job 34:24 – Without inquiry he shatters the mighty and sets up others in their place.
Job 42:2 – “I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted.”
Psalm 2:8 – Ask me, and I will make the nations your inheritance, the ends of the earth your possession.
Psalm 23:2-3 – He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake.
Psalm 31:15 – My times are in your hands; deliver me from the hands of my enemies, from those who pursue me.
Psalm 33:10 – The LORD foils the plans of the nations; he thwarts the purposes of the peoples.
Psalm 73:26 – My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
Psalm 125:2 – As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the LORD surrounds his people both now and forevermore.
Psalm 135:6 – The LORD does whatever pleases him, in the heavens and on the earth, in the seas and all their depths.
Proverbs 16:33 – The lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the LORD.
Proverbs 21:1 – In the LORD’s hand the king’s heart is a stream of water that he channels toward all who please him.
Proverbs 21:30 – There is no wisdom, no insight, no plan that can succeed against the LORD.
Isaiah 14:24-25 – The LORD Almighty has sworn, “Surely, as I have planned, so it will be, and as I have purposed, so it will happen. I will crush the Assyrian in my land; on my mountains I will trample him down. His yoke will be taken from people, and his burden removed from their shoulders.”
Isaiah 43:13 – Yes, and from ancient days I am he. No one can deliver out of my hand. When I act, who can reverse it?
Isaiah 45:3 – I will give you hidden treasures, riches stored in secret places, so that you may know that I am the LORD, the God of Israel, who summons you by name.
Isaiah 46:9-10 – Remember the former things, those of long ago; I am God, another is no other; I am God, and there is none like me. I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say, ‘My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.’
Jeremiah 29:11 – For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
Jeremiah 31:33 – “This is the covenant I will make with the people of Israel after that time,” declares the LORD. “I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts. I will be there God, and they will be my people.”
Daniel 2:20-21 – “Praise be to the name of God for ever and ever; wisdom and power are his. He changes times and seasons; he deposes kings and raises up others. He gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to the discerning.
Matthew 28:18 – Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.”
Luke 1:33 – and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end.
Luke 1:51-52 – He has performed mighty deeds with his arm; he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts. He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble.
John 14:27 – Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
John 17:2 – For you granted him authority over all people that he might give eternal life to all those you have given to him.
John 19:11 – Jesus answered, “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.”
Romans 13:1 – Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God.
1 Corinthians 15:27 – For he “has put everything under his feet.” Now when it says “everything” has been put under him, it is clear that this does not include God himself, who put everything under Christ.
Ephesians 1:11 – In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works everything in conformity with the purpose of his will,
Ephesians 1:19-22 – That power is the same might strength he exerted when he raised Christ form the dead and seated him at his right hand in the  heavenly realms, far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is invoked, not only in the present age but also in the one to come. And God placed all things under his feet and appointed him to be head over everything for the church,
Philippians 2:13 – for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.
Philippians 4:6-7 – Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
2 Thessalonians 2:6 – And now you know what is holding him back, so that he may be revealed at the proper time.
1 Timothy 2:4 – who wants all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth.
Hebrews 2:10 – In bringing many sons and daughters to glory, it was fitting that God, for whom and through whom everything exists, should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through what he suffered.
1 Peter 3:22 – who has gone into heaven and is at God’s right hand- with angels, authorities and powers in submission to him.
2 Peter 3:8-9 – But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.
Sources:
Expositor’s Bible Commentary (Abridged Edition) – New Testament. Copyright 2004.
Plunge Your Mind into the Ocean of God’s Sovereignty
The Absolute Sovereignty of God
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Meg, freelance writer and blogger at Sunny&80, is the author of “Friends with Everyone, Friendship within the Love of Christ,” and “Surface, Unlocking the Gift of Sensitivity,” She writes about everyday life within the love of Christ. Meg earned a Marketing/PR degree from Ashland University, but stepped out of the business world to stay at home and raise her two daughters, which led her to pursue her passion to write. She has led a Bible Study for Women and serves as a Youth Ministry leader in her community. Meg, a Cleveland native and lifelong Browns fan, lives by the shore of Lake Erie in Northern Ohio with her husband, two daughters and golden doodle.
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Forgiveness. Even the word can make us bristle. Past wounds instinctively spring to mind, making forgiveness feel impossible (or at least unnatural). What feels natural is dwelling on the horrible things that others have done to us, rehearsing their wrongs and plotting our retaliation, if only in our imagination.
I know. I have nursed my anger as I have lingered over the ways people have hurt me. A close friend who ended our long-standing relationship over a misunderstanding. A woman whom I mentored for years who slandered me to others. My husband who unexpectedly left me for someone else. The doctor whose careless mistake ended my son’s life.

“We cannot hold on to bitterness and hold on to God.”

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I remember sitting in a counselor’s office, talking about a deep betrayal. When the counselor mentioned forgiveness, I was furious. It felt like he was suggesting I offer that person a “get out of jail free” card, which was unthinkable after all I had suffered. Just hearing the word made me angry. Why should I forgive? Especially when the person didn’t even seem sorry.
But as my counselor unpacked the biblical principles of forgiveness, I couldn’t ignore his words. I realized I had not fully understood what forgiveness was — and what it was not.
What Forgiveness Is and Is Not
There are many definitions of forgiveness, but a simple one is to surrender the right to hurt others in response to the way they’ve hurt us. Forgiveness means refusing to retaliate or hold bitterness against people for the ways they have wounded us. It is a unilateral act — not conditional on the person being repentant or even willing to acknowledge what they’ve done.
Forgiveness is not saying that sin doesn’t matter. It is not approving of what the other person has done, minimizing the offense, or denying we’ve been wronged. Forgiveness is acknowledging that the other person has sinned against us and may never be able to make it right. The apostle Paul writes, “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you” (Ephesians 4:32). If God in Christ forgave us, then forgiving someone cannot mean diminishing the wrong they’ve done. God could never do that with sin and remain just.
Forgiveness doesn’t always mean reconciliation or restoration. And it does not require restoring trust or inviting the people who hurt us back into a relationship. Forgiveness is unconditional, but meaningful reconciliation and restoration are conditional (in the gospel and in human relationships) on the offender’s genuine repentance, humble willingness to accept the consequences of his actions, and a desire by both parties to work on the relationship.
Forgiving people also doesn’t mean they won’t experience consequences for their sin. When we forgive them, however, we leave those consequences to God, who says, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay” (Romans 12:19). This doesn’t mean we may not pursue legal action, if warranted, against someone who has hurt us. In certain circumstances, that may be vital for the rehabilitation of the offender or for protecting other potential victims.
Forgiveness is costly. In the Bible, it involves shedding blood (Hebrews 9:22). Sacrifice. Death. Honestly, the first step of forgiveness still often feels like death. I want to cling to my right to be angry and often resent being asked to give that up. It all seems so unfair. My flesh still demands some type of retribution.
My resistance shows me I need God’s help to understand forgiveness and to truly forgive.
Where Do We Begin?
I have often had to say, Lord, I don’t want to forgive now, but could you make me willing to forgive? You have forgiven all my sins and I know anything I forgive others is small by comparison (Matthew 18:21–35). But I cannot do this without you. Please help me.
Often, I have to repeat this prayer until God changes my heart. When he does, he usually helps me see the wounds of the person who has hurt me — wounds that do not diminish, justify, or excuse the offense, but that do soften my attitude toward the person.
Once I am engaged in wanting to forgive, I begin the process of forgiveness by naming what has happened and all the negative repercussions from the person’s actions and words. I include everything. What I’ve lost. What’s been hard. How it’s made me feel. I want to know what I’m letting go of before I forgive so I can move forward, knowing I have counted the cost.
For most offenses, forgiveness is both an initial decision to let go of bitterness as well as a long, ongoing process. When offenses come to mind and painful memories resurface, I must intentionally stop rehearsing them and ask the Lord to help me release those thoughts and practice forgiveness.
Why Forgiveness Is Vital to Joy
For years I didn’t realize the importance of forgiveness and somehow assumed it was optional; now I see it as a command. “As the Lord has forgiven you,” Colossians 3:13 says, “so you also must forgive.”
So to truly forgive those who have wronged us, we must first receive God’s forgiveness, acknowledging our need before him, which empowers us to forgive others. Christian forgiveness is vertical before it is horizontal. Throughout Scripture, our Lord intertwines his forgiveness of us with our forgiveness of others (Matthew 6:14–15). And like all of his commands, it is always for our good.

“Joy and sorrow often coexist, but joy and bitterness cannot.”

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Forgiving those who have hurt us sets us free. It keeps bitterness from taking root, bitterness that would defile us and everyone around us (Ephesians 4:31). When we cling to resentment, we unknowingly give our offender ongoing power over our hearts, which keeps us enslaved to our anger. This prison we have created pulls us away from our Lord because we cannot hold on to bitterness and hold on to God.
Correspondingly, forgiving those who have wronged us releases the hold of bitterness on us. God, who has forgiven our enormous debt, gives us the power to forgive others. It is his power, not ours. This is the miracle of Christian forgiveness: when we forgive, Christ does something profound in us and for us. Those wounds inflicted by others firmly graft us into Christ, the vine, and his life flows all the more powerfully through us. The process unleashes God’s power in our lives in an unparalleled way, making forgiveness one of the most life-changing steps we ever take.
Forgiveness, Freedom, and Peace
Joy and sorrow often coexist, but joy and bitterness cannot. Bitterness and unforgiveness rob our lives of vitality, peace, and the refreshing joy of God’s presence.
We see the power of forgiveness and grace in the lives of Joseph (Genesis 50:15–21) and Job (Job 42:7–10), who both forgave those who wronged them. And we see the hold of unforgiveness and rage on others like Joash, who murdered the priest who disagreed with him (2 Chronicles 24:20–22), and even on Jonah, who was angry at God’s compassion (Jonah 4:1–3). Being able to forgive not only changes our present; it changes our future. When we forgive, we can begin walking in freedom and joy.
I don’t know where you are in your journey of forgiveness. Perhaps the wound for you is still fresh, and you need time to process all that’s happened. Maybe you’ve been holding on to bitterness for a long time, and God is asking you to let go. If that’s you, I encourage you to pray. To trust God. To forgive your offender. You won’t regret it.
And after you have forgiven, after you’ve been released from the prison of bitterness, you may be amazed at how quickly God begins to flood your life with the joy and peace you lost. […]

ABSTRACT: The language of righteousness in the Psalms often surprises Christians, especially in light of the doctrine of justification by faith. Some interpreters have even suggested that the psalmists claim a form of self-righteousness similar to what the later Pharisees would display. A portrait of the righteous in the Psalms tells the true story: they find their refuge in God and, as a result, receive a righteousness from him that increasingly characterizes their lives. They also anticipate the coming of the Righteous One, in whose mouth the psalmists’ words find their ultimate fulfillment.
For our ongoing series of feature articles for pastors, leaders, and teachers, we asked Christopher Ash, writer-in-residence at Tyndale House, to describe who “the righteous” are in the Psalms.
We meet “the congregation of the righteous” and are promised that “the Lord knows the way of the righteous” right at the start of the Psalter (Psalm 1:5–6). But who are the righteous? We shall never make friends with the Psalms, let alone begin to enjoy and appropriate them in our devotions, until we know. They appear again and again, especially in book 1 (Psalms 1–41), often in contrast to “the wicked.”
So many promises are attached to these people. Not only does the covenant Lord know (watch over) their way and guide their steps (Psalm 1:6), but he blesses and protects them (Psalm 5:12), he is with them and terrifies their enemies (Psalm 14:5), he surrounds them with steadfast love (Psalm 32:10–11), he watches them with his eyes and listens for their cry with his ears (Psalm 34:15, 17), he upholds them (Psalm 37:17), and he gives them the new creation, which is the fulfillment of the Promised Land (Psalm 37:29), so that they will flourish in his presence for ever (Psalm 92:12–13). These people — and it is important to remember that, in the Old Testament, these were real flesh-and-blood people — are showered with blessing.
It matters deeply to know who they are, not least so that you and I can make sure we belong among them, inherit their promises, and sing their psalms.1
Who Are the Righteous?
Two large and closely related problems raise their heads. First, we struggle to know what to make of it when psalmists claim to be righteous, sometimes in quite strong terms. For example, the prayer “judge me, O Lord, according to my righteousness and according to the integrity that is in me” (Psalm 7:8) rather alarms us. If I were to pray that, what if the Lord did judge me according to my righteousness and found it severely wanting, as he surely must — must he not? Dare I pray this?

“Who are the righteous? We shall never make friends with the Psalms until we know.”

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Second, we have to grapple with the apparent contradiction that the psalmists who claim to possess righteousness also admit that it is not possible to be righteous before God (e.g., Psalm 143:2). How can both be true at the same time? How can I possess righteousness if I have no righteousness?
There is a simple, superficially attractive, and yet deeply problematic “solution.” This is to conclude that claims to righteousness in the Psalms are actually professions of self-righteousness that anticipate the later self-righteousness of the Pharisees so roundly condemned by the Lord Jesus (e.g., Luke 18:9–14).2 This is unsatisfactory, first, because it supposes that some of the words of the psalmists are flawed expressions of merely human convictions. Many do hold this opinion, but we have no warrant to suppose that the Psalms contain a mixture of truth and error (unlike the speeches of Job’s three comforters, whose words God explicitly tells us are not entirely trustworthy, Job 42:7).
It is also unsatisfactory because it does not reflect the portrayal of the righteous in the Psalms themselves, to which we turn. While it would be possible to read back New Testament expositions of righteousness, especially in the apostle Paul, we shall focus on building up a picture from the Psalms themselves. I shall do this under seven heads, before considering how these people compare with those accounted righteous by grace under the new covenant.
These headlines are based on a fairly comprehensive study of the words righteous and righteousness in the Psalms. There are more than 120 verses in which one or more of these occur, in about 60 different psalms. A full study would consider each of these in context.
Who are these people? What do they look like, not in terms of their outward appearance, of course, but in their heart, their spirit? What gets them out of bed in the morning — what are their longings, their pleasures, their hopes, their fears?
As we consider them, it is worth remembering that a word study of righteous or righteousness3 will miss the parallel descriptions, in which these people are often referred to as “upright” or “upright of heart,” meaning straightforwardly moral in their lives (e.g., Psalm 11:7; 32:11; 33:1; 36:10; 37:37; 94:15; 97:11); as “blameless,” having integrity, the opposite of hypocrisy (e.g., Psalm 15:2; 18:25; 37:18, 37; 64:4; 101:2, 6; 119:1); and on one occasion as “the living” (Psalm 69:28) since they live in the sight of God. These are all the same people, whose prayers and praises are expressed in the Psalms and whose contours are there delineated.
1. Their Delight
At the heart of the question lies the heart of the righteous. In what, or in whom, do they most deeply delight? Had they been incipient Pharisees, the answer would have been, for each, “I delight in myself. I thank God that I am who I am. I praise myself, and I want others to praise me.”
That the praise and delight of the righteous is focused intensely on the covenant Lord gives perhaps the clearest indication that they belong to this covenant Lord by grace. Repeatedly, we are told that their joy and exultation is found in the Lord (e.g., Psalm 33:1; 64:10; 68:3; 97:12). It is — to put it in colloquial terms — the covenant Lord who puts a spring in their step, who gets them out of bed in the morning, who energizes them and delights their hearts.
2. Their Desire
Closely tied to the delight of the righteous is the question of their desire, their hope, their longing, their aspiration. For what do they hope? The answer, which follows necessarily, logically, and experientially from their delight, is that they desire to see the face of the covenant Lord God. Nothing is more precious to them than to have the face (the personal, beneficent presence) of the Lord turned toward them, both in this life (in part) and in eternity (in full). This is a most precious promise (e.g., Psalm 11:7). Not to have it is the most painful experience on earth (e.g., Psalm 13:1–2; 88:14). Him they seek (Psalm 24:6; 27:8–9), and for him they thirst (e.g., Psalm 42:1–2; 143:6–7). Far from being satisfied in themselves and with themselves, their desire is passionately and intensely directed upward to the Lord.
3. Their Repentance
The third facet of the righteous is of a rather different kind: their penitence. Far from being self-confident, the truly righteous person knows deeply his own sinfulness and urgent need of repentance. We see this most clearly in Psalm 32, in which David celebrates, and tells the story of, his rediscovery of the blessing of confession of sin, repentance, and forgiveness. At the end of the psalm, he exhorts all who walk this way of repentance, “Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice, O righteous” (Psalm 32:11). This congregation of the righteous (cf. Psalm 1:5) consists of men and women who have learned, and continue to learn, the necessity and the blessing of confession and repentance. Here in anticipation we see the tax collector, rather than the Pharisee, of Jesus’s parable (Luke 18:9–14).
We see this spirit again at the start of Psalm 143, in which David leads those who have no natural righteousness (v. 2) in pleading for covenant mercy (v. 1), that God in his righteousness will answer him, and them, with steadfast love (v. 8).
4. Their Refuge
The fourth facet is perhaps the one that most clearly indicates the presence of faith or trust. It asks and answers the question, Whither or to whom do the righteous flee when under pressure or threat?
Again and again, we hear and see the righteous fleeing to the covenant Lord as their refuge, the only safe place in the face of the assaults of their enemies and ultimately in the face of the righteous judgment of God. To him they cry for help in troubles, and he delivers them (Psalm 34:15, 17, 19, 21). They commit their way to him, trust in him, confident that he will bring into the open the righteousness (or vindication) that he will give them (Psalm 37:5–6). For him they wait and hope (e.g., Psalm 37:7), for “he is their stronghold in the time of trouble” (Psalm 37:39). They cast their burden upon him, trusting that “he will never permit the righteous to be moved” (Psalm 55:22). Repeatedly, they take refuge in him (e.g., Psalm 64:10). One of the psalms where we see this most intensely is Psalm 71 (e.g., vv. 2, 3, 15, 16, 19, 24).
5. Their Assurance and Covenant Head
We come now to consider the occasions when the psalmists speak about their own righteousness (e.g., Psalm 4:1; 7:8; 18:20–24). What do they mean by this? This is arguably the most significant part of our study, and most needful of careful thought. Two observations need to be made before we can make progress.

“No human being has righteousness by nature; this is the preserve of the covenant Lord.”

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First, it is abundantly clear in the Psalms that the source of all righteousness is the God who is righteous in himself (e.g., Psalm 11:7), whose law is righteous (e.g., Psalm 19:9), who does, or works, righteousness as the expression of his covenant faithfulness and love (e.g., Psalm 22:31; 36:6; 48:10; 103:6, 17), and who will judge the world in righteousness (Psalm 9:8; 96:13; 98:9). No human being has righteousness by nature; this is the preserve of the covenant Lord.
Second, the king in David’s line holds a unique position in the Psalms. When studying the Psalms, it is striking how often there is an interplay between a singular leading character (most often the king) and a plurality or congregation of the righteous. Because the Lord saves the king, the king’s people experience blessing in him (e.g., Psalm 3:8).
David calls the Lord the “God of my righteousness” (Psalm 4:1), which appears to mean the God from whom my righteousness, and my hope of vindication, proceeds. In both Psalms 17 and 18, the king professes a righteousness on which his hope is built. In the drama of Psalm 18, he is rescued because of this righteousness (see vv. 20–24). For David himself, this poses a problem, for we find ourselves asking about Bathsheba and Uriah the Hittite (2 Samuel 11); how can the David who sinned (or would later sin) so grievously claim such righteousness? The answer, hinted at in the Psalms and blazing forth with the full light of day in the New Testament, is that his righteousness is given to him, ultimately because of the flawless righteousness of “great David’s greater Son” (cf. Romans 5:12–21). The Lord in his righteousness leads David, and all the little anticipatory “messiahs” in David’s line, “in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake” (Psalm 23:3), because there will be a true Messiah who will walk those paths without slipping or sliding into moral failure of any kind. Having said this, there is a real visible measure of actual lived righteousness of life evident in the life of any old-covenant believer who is truly justified by faith (see section 6 below).
The interplay between the righteousness of the covenant Lord and the righteousness of the king is clearly seen in Psalm 35:24–28. In verse 24, David the king pleads for God to vindicate him “according to your righteousness” (that is, in fulfillment of his covenant promises). In verse 27, there is reference to the assembly or congregation of the king’s people, “who delight in my [that is, the king’s] righteousness,” a righteousness given to the king and possessed by the king on behalf of his people. These people will be glad because their king is righteous and therefore they are blessed. And then in verse 28, the king’s tongue tells “of your [that is, God’s] righteousness.”
We see the movement from the righteousness of the king to the righteousness received by the people in Psalm 72. In verses 1–3, God is petitioned to give righteousness to his king. When this happens, the king’s people (ultimately all who are “in Christ”) will be called “righteous” and will “flourish” under the rule of their king (v. 7).
In the light of the New Testament, this focus on the righteousness possessed by the king may be understood to be fulfilled in the righteousness of Christ the King. When David (like Abraham or any Old Testament saint) spoke of his righteousness, he meant, first and foremost, a righteousness given to him by God. When old-covenant believers who were neither patriarchs nor Davidic kings echoed this language, their righteousness likewise was found ultimately in the king, their covenant head. This federal headship of the king is fulfilled when Christ lives a righteous life and dies a sin-bearing death as the representative head and substitute propitiatory sacrifice for his people.
6. Their Life
A pen portrait of the righteous in the Psalms would be woefully incomplete if it did not include a mention of their visible life. I have deliberately held over discussion of this until now, because their life is the fruit, and not the root, of their existence as believers in the covenant God. It would be a mistake to begin with a consideration of their lives of right living. Nevertheless, their lives are inseparable from their identity and closely tied to their blessing and assurance. The covenant Lord does not give to his king and people a righteousness of status simply that they may enjoy it while continuing to live evil lives, for he “is righteous” and “loves righteous deeds” (Psalm 11:7; cf. Psalm 33:5). It is very clear (e.g., in Psalms 15 and 24) that authentic righteousness of life is the necessary marker of the genuine Messiah and of his people. Jesus is the fulfillment of Psalms 15 and 24, as he is of all the descriptions of human righteousness in the Psalms.
Sometimes the righteousness claimed by a psalmist may focus particularly on innocence with respect to a particular accusation (e.g., Psalm 7:8). Under these circumstances, he not infrequently pleads with God for vindication. Often, however, this particular righteousness overflows into a broader whole-life righteousness that, albeit partial, is nevertheless real.
Those who are truly righteous, by virtue of their membership of the covenant people under the king, their covenant head, and who are genuinely righteous because they trust the covenant promises (fulfilled in Christ), will live upright, blameless, and righteous lives. Perhaps the clearest exposition of this in the Psalms is in Psalm 111 followed by Psalm 112. Psalm 111 celebrates the righteousness of the covenant Lord. Then Psalm 112 (with close echoes) declares a blessing on those who exhibit those same qualities in the generosity (cf. Psalm 37:21) and righteousness of their lives. These people act and speak (cf. Psalm 37:30) in ways that demonstrate the fruit of their hearts of faith. Paul will later call this “the obedience of faith” (Romans 1:5; 16:26), and the letter of James will expound it forcefully.
7. Their Enemies
The final facet is of a very different kind. The enemies of the righteous, by their polar contrast to the righteous, shine a paradoxical light on the identity of the righteous. Here is a brief pen portrait of who the righteous are not. Most often described as “the wicked” (but also, for example, as “evildoers”), I want to mention just two characteristics that are thematic of their portrait in the Psalms.
The first is their consistent, bitter, implacable hostility toward the righteous (e.g., Psalm 94:21). Here is the fruit of Cain’s unbelieving hatred of Abel, who was righteous by faith. We see this as a consistent theme in, for example, Psalm 37, and also in Psalms 9, 10, and 11.
The second facet of their portrait is that, in polar contrast to those who are righteous by faith, the wicked naturally trust in themselves and their own resources. We see this clearly in the portrait of Doeg, the Edomite, in Psalm 52:1–7. Especially in verse 7, he will not make God his refuge but trusts in his own riches and resources.
Nothing is more obnoxious to the hardened wicked, who trust in themselves, than the presence on earth of the Righteous One, who trusts his Father, and the people of the Righteous One, who share his faith.
Psalms and New-Covenant Righteousness
If we ask, “Are the righteous in the Psalms the same as those who are righteous by grace alone through faith alone under the new covenant?” the answer must be “yes and no.” Overwhelmingly, the answer is yes. We who are new-covenant believers, who belong to Christ, share with them their delight in God, their desire to see the face of God, their penitence, their fleeing to God for refuge from both troubles and judgment, their assurance of forgiveness because of their covenant head, the outworking of their faith in righteousness of life, and the presence in our world, as in theirs, of hostility to Christ and his people (cf. John 15:18–16:4).

“When we come across the righteous in the Psalms, we recognize in them people who trusted in the Christ to come.”

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But there is, I think, one significant difference between these righteous old-covenant believers and believers in Christ under the new covenant: under the new covenant, we enjoy a deeper assurance and the riches of a definitively cleansed conscience, and this is a blessing known only in anticipation and shadow under the old covenant (see Hebrews 8–10).4
So, when we come across the righteous in the Psalms, as we do in about 40 percent of the Psalms, we recognize in them people who trusted in the Christ to come. By believing and living in the obedience of faith in the covenant promises, they believed implicitly in the Christ who would fulfill those promises. They did not know as clearly as we do the fullness of that magnificent Christ nor the grandeur of those gospel promises. But that apart, we recognize in them people very like us today in Christ. This transforms the way we read the Psalms. […]

Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?” He answered, “I heard You in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.”— Genesis 3:8-10
The first symptom of this “sin” thing is a warped view of God. Previously in Genesis, walking in the garden in the cool of the day is part of the normal routine for Adam and Eve. To them, God wasn’t a riddle to be solved or an existential question. God was a Being to know and be known by, a Being as real as any of the creatures of his own creation, and a Being altogether good, sheltering them while also looking them in the eye and listening — the protection of a father and the intimacy of a friend. Then suddenly, God is feared, resisted, misunderstood, hidden from. That wasn’t a momentary misconception; that was a new normal. It’s all we’ve ever known.
 In her book Leaving Church, Barbara Brown Taylor, herself a former Episcopalian priest with years of personal experience behind her thoughts, writes soberingly:
One thing that had always troubled me was the way people disappeared from the church when their lives were breaking down. Separation and divorce were the most common explanations for long absences, but so were depression, alcoholism, job loss, and mortal illness. One new widow told me that she could not come to church because she started crying the moment she sat down in a pew. A young man freshly diagnosed with AIDS said that he stayed away because he was too frightened to answer questions and too angry to sing hymns. I understood their reasoning, but I was sorry that church did not strike these wounded souls as a place they could bring the dark fruits of their equally dark nights.1
Sadly, I have watched a similar pattern as a pastor. It’s a theme that can be traced all the way back to the very beginning:
Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden.— Genesis 3:8
There was a time when God could be trusted, when the Creator was Father, Mother, Protector, Comforter, and Friend. But to our ears, that sounds like a fairy tale. A long, long time ago, that image of God got traded in for the God you’re more familiar with — distant, unknowable, untrustable. A God whose company many welcome in their best moments, but equally a God we instinctively keep a distance from in our worst.
ABBA
Jesus of Nazareth. He was a Jewish peasant from a rural family in a nothing town occupied by Roman soldiers who had long ago proved their domination and were just waiting for a reason to refresh everyone’s memory. He showed up at the temple, the one place the Romans didn’t touch, the one place the Jewish people could ask for help from a God who, although he seemed distant most of the time, had supposedly come through on a national scale in past dire circumstances. So the Pharisees, the priests of Jesus’ day, added rules to an absurdly long list of rules — 613 to be exact. Their plan was simple. Maybe we can live holy enough lives to get God’s attention again, because the God of our ancestors seems to be apathetic or uncaring or distracted or some combination of the three. Maybe we can follow his rules precisely enough to convince him to stretch out that strong right hand we’ve heard so much about. Jesus shows up to their temple and starts praying.
When Jesus prayed, He called God “Abba,” and that was a showstopper. It was scandalous. It was the sort of thing that didn’t belong anywhere in the temple, much less out of the mouth of a rabbi. You see, Israel already knew God’s name — it was Yahweh. That’s how it looks in English, at least. In Hebrew, a written language made up of only consonants, it’s YHWH. The way they arrived at that name shows the incomparable reverence they had for God.
When God identified Himself to Abraham (the man whom Christianity, Judaism, and Islam all trace their roots back to), He said, “I am El-Shaddai.”2 In a Canaanite world that believed in many gods over many nations, El meant “king of the gods.” El-Shaddai was the Canaanite way of saying, “I’m the king of all the gods, but I’m also so much more than what you conceive of when you hear that name.”
Later, God introduces himself to Moses (the guy who led Israel out of Egyptian slavery). In that famous burning-bush moment that changed Moses from a meek shepherd to a meek abolitionist, God called Himself, “I am who I am,” meaning, “I am the unchanging One, the one who has always been, the one who will always be.” Through a bunch of ancient language technicalities you’ll thank me not to go into detail about, YHWH is Hebrew shorthand for “I am who I am.” It’s a way of saying God is incomprehensibly constant. He is completely “other” from our humanness in all the best ways.3
Still, over time, for the serious Jew, even that name wasn’t reverent enough. After all, the Ten Commandments do include, “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord [YHWH] thy God in vain.” If Old English is confusing, an updated translation reads, “You shall not misuse the name of the Lord [YHWH] your God.”4 Attempting to be sure God’s people didn’t even get close to violating that command, they stopped calling God by His own name altogether, replacing His name with titles like Adonai, meaning, “Lord.” It’s the ancient equivalent of calling someone “sir.” Respectful, formal, and keeping the proper distance.
All that reverence, multiplied over many generations and hundreds of years, and then Jesus walked into their temple and called God Abba. But why is using a different name so scandalous?
The New Testament was written in ancient Greek, but Abba is an Aramaic term. The elite spoke Greek. The educated spoke Greek. Books were written in Greek. History was recorded in Greek, the language of the distinguished. Aramaic was the language that still stuck to Israel from seventy years exiled in Babylon, their previous conqueror. It was the language of the common peasants, the blue-collar, minimum-wage day laborers. It was also the language of Jesus, according to the majority of first-century scholarship.
The earliest manuscripts of the Gospels — Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, the four biographical accounts of Jesus’ life — are written in Greek, with only a few exceptions, including Abba, the name Jesus gave God. Abba went untranslated because there is no direct translation. There is no equivalent Greek term. In Aramaic, Abba was the most intimate term one could possibly call a father. The closest thing we have in English is a toddler using the name “Dada,” but that doesn’t quite do it because Abba wasn’t a cheesy name you used as a kid and then grew out of with age. It wasn’t a name you’d be embarrassed to be caught saying to your father as a twentysomething. It was a term of endearment from a son to a father that was lost in translation because it was so rarely used, or maybe so rarely needed. The Greeks didn’t have a term like Abba because no one would address their father with that much intimacy. Jesus spoke to Yahweh with such familiarity we can’t even translate it.
German theologian Joachim Jeremias writes, “There is not a single example of the use of Abba… as an address to God in the whole of Jewish literature.”5 A new way of praying was born. No one else talked to God like that because that’s not how you speak to an authority whose name you can’t stomach saying out loud and whose favor you’re trying to coax through moral perfection. So where did Jesus get the idea He could talk to God like a kid whose dad had just come back from a business trip with souvenirs and presents? From God Himself.
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Jesus’ prayers showed us who He really believed God to be —  Abba. Your prayers do the same. It doesn’t matter if your prayers come out in communal liturgy, read aloud together in a sacred building or in the back of your head, never audible, and only after you’ve exhausted every other option. If you want to know what you really think of God, just pay attention to your prayers. Perhaps Nancy Mairs said it best, or at least most directly: “Who one believes God to be is most accurately revealed not in any credo but in the way one speaks to God when no one else is listening.”6
So here’s what Jesus’ prayers tell us He believes about God: “I am His Son, whom He loves; with me He is well pleased.”
We are wandering around the stage, not recognizing the voice of the director anymore, so God inserted Himself into the story and recovered the plot. That’s what Jesus’ prayers were all about.
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Barbara Brown Taylor, Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2006), 147–48.
Genesis 17:1. The NIV text reads, “God Almighty”; the NIV text note reads, “El-Shaddai.”
See Exodus 3:1–22.
Exodus 20:7 KJV and NIV.
Joachim Jeremias, The Prayers of Jesus (London: SCM, 1967), 57.
Nancy Mairs, Ordinary Time: Cycles in Marriage, Faith, and Renewal (Boston: Beacon, 1993), 54.
Excerpted with permission from Searching for Enough: The High-Wire Walk Between Doubt and Faith by Tyler Staton, copyright Tyler Staton.
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Your Turn
How does Jesus’ perception of God alter the way you think about your own views & your own prayers? How can you move away from a performance-based faith? We’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments! […]