Today, I read this:

“The will of God prevails. In great contests, each party claims to act in accordance with the will of God. Both may be, and one must be, wrong. God cannot be for and against the same thing at the same time. In the present civil war it is quite possible that God’s purpose is something different from the purpose of either party; and yet the human instrumentalities, working just as they do, are the best adaptation to effect his purpose…

… God wills the contest, and wills that is shall not end yet. By his mere great power on the minds of the new contestants, he could have either saved or destroyed the Union without a human contest. Yet the contest began. And having begun, he could give the final victory to either side any day. Yet the contest proceeds.”

A friend was mentioning Sunday that God really doesn’t care a wit about things like government other than the point to which it serves His ultimate will. This quote was a fantastic reminder of that.

In college I remember using wars, and this one in particular because both sides were for the most part Christian, as a reason for the non-existence of God. My intelligent friends and I would cite examples where both sides said God was on their side, or they were fighting in the name of God, etc. Then we would ridicule them and ask which side God was cheering for…

Anyway, time goes by, and luckily it’s become clear that God’s will may involve something a little bigger and we are only little tiny instruments.

I love the visualization of a couple of tiny Indian churches arguing over Federal Vision.

“We don’t get anything productive done anymore it seems” said Cinjam. “Every time we get together for Bible study an argument starts about paedo-communion or the efficacy of the sacraments. Just the other day two of our brothers Narendra and Parmeet spent two hours arguing about the inner-trinitarian covenant and the visible and invisible church. When it was all over Narendra was accusing Parmeet of being a sacerdotalist! It really got ugly.”

I know that Grace and Peace are multiplied through the knowledge of God (2 Peter 1:2), but this is where I often become troubled. How much knowledge? How much doctrine?   Sacer-what??

I do know what I believe and unfortunately part of what I believe is that I am going to be hanging out in heaven with some Arminians, probably some Catholics… maybe even an Episcopalian or two.

“In Essentials, Unity. In Non-essentials, Liberty. In all things, love” has become cliche, but I still like it.

There was the fact that I didn’t like the way he ate.

Take breakfast.

He wouldn’t just eat Cap’n Crunch. He was repugnant. He would take a big spoonful of cereal, put it in his revolting 14 year old mouth and first, suck all the milk out (”Sllluuurp… slurp…”), then he would mush the remaining sugar bombs in his mouth (”Smack… smack”). Finally, he would swallow it, but even that wasn’t quiet (”GULP… gurgle… ” <small burp>). One bite down, only about 20 to go. But even then, when I thought my torment was ending, he would pick up the box and pour another bowl. All this while I quietly sat eating my very quiet Cream of Wheat.

Normally, I could make it through breakfast, but this time I flew across the table… “STOP IT!!!” Bowls, spoons, the Cap’n, and Cream of Wheat all flew through the air–ever notice that dried Cream of Wheat is much like concrete? I knew he was eating like that just to bug me and I couldn’t take it anymore. He just sort of laughed, looked at me, asked “WHAT is wrong with you?” and walked off to change clothes.

Some other ways that he demonstrated his awful, sick and unholy ways were:

• Having the TV volume too high.
• Having the TV volume too low
• Beating me at video games
• Condescendingly letting me beat him at video games when I got angry

The list could go on for pages.

Throughout my 7th grade year, I picked fights with him about four days a week (many times it was five). Generally I would have a friend or two over at the time. My friend(s) would simply step aside and watch while my brother and I went at it, knowing this was just part of the afterschool routine at my house (did I mention I was a latch-key child?).

Usually, we both ended up bleeding; sometimes a lot. We tore brand new clothes. We broke dishes and shelves and walls. I threw books and bats and shoes. I would always come very close to beating the hell out of him, but never quite got there. Sometimes we would stop on our own, or my friends would step in and break us up, but more often than not my brother just turned and walked away.

This went on for months.

I knew the day was going to come, though, when victory was mine. I would leave him laying in a bloody pool of teeth and flesh while I played the video games and always won, ate the food (quietly) that I wanted and pirated all the good parts off of his bike and put them on my own.

Late in the Spring the day came. He either had a real bad day. Someone must have stolen or scratched his new Journey album… I’m not sure. Or maybe it was just time.

The whole thing took about 2 minutes.

In one of my, then patented, insane little brother attacks, I charged at him full speed, drool flying out of my mouth, small tick in my left eye. When I was almost to him, he simply stuck up his leg and kicked. I dropped instantly. No air in my body… and none to be found. I gasped for air, all the while planning my counter-attack… broken ribs or not. As he leaned over me, making sure I was humbled but alive, my moment came. I grabbed him by the hair and scratched and head butted and kicked as wildly as I could. In about 10 seconds he had me on my back and had landed about 10 direct punches to my poor little 7th grade face.

I was a crying, bruised, swollen, bloody and humbled mess. After toying with me for months, his time had come. There was a certain amount of order that was to be maintained in our home (or at least between the two of us). I had been in denial for months. I figured I could whoop him… if not today, then tomorrow. My illusions came to a grinding halt that afternoon.

Okay, I apologize. That was a long trip to get here… where am I going with this?

While reading The Cross He Bore (buy this book and read it, it will be the best 4 dollars you may ever spend), by Frederick S. Leahy I read the following regarding “Satan’s Hour” while Christ was praying in the garden.

In this dread hour Satan had free rein. In the case of Job God set a limit to Satan’s activity. In the experience of Christ there were no limits to Satan’s onlaught. He was free to do his worst and he did.

Gethsemane and Calvary marked high noon in the world’s long day, and God’s permission was absolute as Satan mustered his legions for the decisive encounter. The first Adam had been easy prey. How would he fare with this Adam? As Satan entered the battlefield he did so fully conscious of the Word of God: “He shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.” Did he recall his cynical contempt for God’s Word earlier when he asked, “Yea, hath God said?” (Gen. 3:1). Or did he fear the sentence passed in Eden? Doubtless he did. But the hour was fixed. It was decreed by God. When tempting Christ in the wilderness, Satan had done his utmost to deflect him from this hour, to take some other road than the way of the cross, but all in vain. Now the battle had commenced in earnest. Nothing could stop it (my emphasis).

Okay, I know the analogy is very, very weak, horrible even. Christ more than likely did not eat noisily or listen to Journey. And my brother was certainly no Jesus, nor did he believe anyone would be saved by him beating me to a pulp.

It was however, Springtime when he finally kicked my butt (there may have even been Easter Lilies in one of the vases I threw at him). More importantly, I was a little 12 year old Satan and as I read this passage, me and my brother came to mind. So two parallels are enough.

Anyway… my brother could have killed me anytime he wanted, but he just waited for the right time, and he took a lot of beatings while he bided his time.

Again from Leahy:

The struggle in Gethsemane had been fierce. Soon the struggle would be fiercer still. “That old serpent, called the Devil and Satan” had uncoiled and had bared his fangs, poised to strike again and again with all the venom of which he was capable. Trampling on serpents is a most painful experience, especially for the heel.”

Yes, this was Satan’s Hour, but it was at the same time, Christ’s Hour. “Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son that your Son may glorify you… ” (John 17:1).

And the battle would soon be over.

My wife and I were blessed enough to abandon our children for a couple days last weekend and attend our church’s Young Couples Retreat at Horn Creek Ranch outside of Westcliffe, Colorado.

The speaker, Mark Bates, was fantastic and it was a very, very, very good weekend. Of all the ‘couple-y’ things he spoke on, one small part proved to be my ‘aha’ moment of the weekend. While speaking on Extending God’s Mercy, in the context of our marriages, he spoke of the Cost of the Forgiveness. What is probably a simple concept to many others is something to which I had never given much thought–Primarily, the fact that forgiveness is never free. It has a cost.

In short, when we forgive someone, we willingly choose to accept the pain of the offense and any cost incurred. We foot the bill. We endure the hurt. We suffer the sorrows.

Mark used the simple illustration of an uninsured driver damaging your vehicle in a fender bender. If we choose to let the incident go, our automobile must still be fixed, but we are the ones picking up the tab. The uninsured loser, scumbag walks away free because of our mercy. Basic, but again… I’ve never given it much thought.

Of course you know where this led? I am the uninsured loser scumbag and Jesus’ shed blood is the payment for my scumbagginess.

When we can forgive others, we do, in fact, discover the cost is worth it. Of course, this is easier said than done… and of course, we will receive strength from God and the Holy Spirit to enable us to carry out the actual forgiving. In the process, God’s love heals us, renews our relationships and lets us (as I tell my 6 year old when we talk of forgiveness) flush our bitterness, bile and bad, bad feelings down the toilet (if you are trying to get across to 6 year olds, any illustration with poop or a toilet will go a long way).

The best thing about being able to successfully forgive is that while we struggle to do it, we identify all the more with God’s ultimate sacrificial act for us.

For this shall every one that is godly pray unto thee (Ps. 32:6)

Holy David at the beginning of this psalm, shows us wherein true happiness consists; not in beauty, honor, riches (the world’s trinity)—but in the forgiveness of sin.
…
This is an incomprehensible blessing, and such as lays a foundation for all other mercies. p.9.

He who is pardoned, is all bestrewn with mercy. When the Lord pardons a sinner, he does not only pay a debt—but gives an inheritance! p.9.

Before sin is forgiven, it must be repented of.

Therefore repentance and remission are linked together: “that repentance and forgiveness of sins should be preached in his name” (Luke 24:47). Not that repentance in a popish sense merits forgiveness. Christ’s blood must wash our tears away—but repentance is a qualification, though not a cause of forgiveness. p.10.

How sad it is to lack pardon!
Caesar wondered at one of his soldiers, who was so merry when he was in debt. Can that sinner be merry who is heir to all God’s curses—and does not know how soon he may take up his lodgings among the damned!
How sweet it is to have pardon!
The pardoned soul may go to God with boldness in prayer. Guilt clips the wings of prayer, so that it cannot fly to the throne of grace—but forgiveness breeds confidence.

This great mercy of pardon David had obtained, as appears in verse 5: “You forgave me”. And because he had found God “a God of pardons” (Neh. 9:17), he therefore encouraged others to seek God in the words of the text: “For this cause shall everyone who is godly pray unto thee.” p.10.

So the weekend left me rejuvenated and eagerly anticipating being wronged in many, many ways so I can practice all I learned

I spent all of my youth and a lot of my adult years lying to prevent conflict, so this article hit home.

Mohler writes:

Honesty can (and often does) produce conflict. For children, it can bring punishment when bad behavior is admitted. For parents, it can mean the necessity of confronting the child about disobedience. Thus, parents and children conspire to lower the risk of confrontation by accepting something other than the truth.

In my home, confrontation is simply loud and tense and it’s frightening how far we are tempted to go to avoid it.

He continues:

Do we, along with other parents, effectively teach our children to lie? Have we traded off permissiveness for getting teenagers to tell the truth? Would we rather not know, if knowing means putting children and teens into situations in which they might lie?

The Christian worldview does not honor truth as a matter of mere politeness, but as a moral necessity. We deserve the truth from each other, and we owe the truth to each other. As Christian parents, we should ask ourselves whether we are teaching our children to lie — and whether we really expect our children and teens to tell us the truth.

My children are far from being teens, but I pray my wife and I will take the tough road when the time comes… or I guess that time is already here.