Speaking the Truth in Love

This is a good word that I came across today, from Tim Chester's book You Can Change (here), on how we can point others to Christ when they've sinned (of course, it's true for us too):

“What should you do if others confess their sin to you? Speak the truth
in love. Don’t tell them their sin is understandable or
insignificant. That offers no comfort because it’s a lie. But we can
speak words of comfort because we can speak words of grace. Call them to
repent of their sin and to accept by faith the forgiveness that God
offers. ‘You are guilty, but Christ has borne your guilt. You deserve
God’s judgment, but Christ has borne your judgment.’ This is true
comfort. Embody that forgiveness in your ongoing acceptance and
love. But accept people with God’s agenda for change. Explore, if
you can, the lies and desires that lead to their sinful behavior. Together
you may be able to discern the truth they need to turn to and the idolatrous
desires they need to turn from. Be proactive about offering
accountability. That means asking the right question! Ask them how
they’re getting on; ask them whether they’ve sinned again. Be specific –
ask when, where, why, how often. Above all, point them to the grace and
glory of Christ.”

A lesson in trusting God

God taught me a striking lesson earlier this afternoon. I had just come home from work, and Kristen and the boys were not home yet from running an errand (to the park). Sitting in a chair upstairs in our room, I felt overwhelmed by all the things I had on my plate at work (you know the feeling, the unpleasant snowball effect of contemplating many tasks at once while forgetting that they don't all need to be done at once and that God actually does exist). I was mentally and emotionally exhausted, and I just thought to myself, "I can't do this, I don't have it in me right now" (which is a vague way of saying that I was thoroughly spent and did not have the emotional supply I thought was necessary to fulfill my calling as a husband and father to the occupants of the minivan that had just pulled into the driveway).

I called out to God in prayer for help, but I realized something. In asking God for help, I don't think I was actually trusting in Him or leaning upon Him, but rather was trusting in and leaning on the change in emotional status I was anticipating as a result of His helping me. I did not want God, I wanted a particular emotional condition, one that would enable me to be self-sufficient for the rest of the evening. But God's design in that moment, it seems, was for me to realize that He is all-sufficient. My trust is to be ultimately in Him, not in His help. Though it is not biblically improper to strongly desire His help, or a change in emotional condition, or a change of circumstance, etc., if a stronger desire for God Himself is not behind it, then it can be idolatry, and using God as a means of exalting self. This was a good lesson learned, and I am grateful to the Lord for it.

Thunder and the Sovereignty of God

Owen and thunder don't get along too well. In fact, I don't believe there is anything in this universe that he is more scared of. Tonight there was thunder at the Purdy house.

It took quite a bit of praying and comforting and story-reading and window-checking, but he finally went down ok. As I sat down on the couch to a good book (Suffering and the Sovereignty of God, John Currid), I realized something about the whole situation. Owen was calm mainly because the thunder had stopped, but at any moment it could start again. In an instant, our whole night could change. This was especially striking to me because in sitting down to a good book, I was subconsciously (then consciously) finding my hope and satisfaction in the absence of thunder and the presence of a good book. How would I respond if suddenly the thunder returned, and I needed to help my son for another 30 minutes? Every single clap of thunder falls under the sovereign rule and plan of almighty God (i.e., whenever it thunders, it is God who has made it thunder, Job 38, Psalm 104). Would I respond with self-centered discontentment, since my will is being crossed? Or would I respond with prayerful and trusting contentment, knowing that God's will (that it thunder and that I put my book down and help my sweet son) is infinitely wiser and better than mine. "Not my will, but yours be done" (Luke 22:42) was Jesus' prayer in the garden of Gethsamane, and I realized that I should have the same posture of heart.

I did not have to fear what the next moment would bring (or, what God would bring in the next moment). Though it did not thunder and Owen went calmly and quickly to sleep, it was a steadying and peace-giving comfort to know that I live under the sovereign hand of God. This God "does according to his will among the host of heaven and among the inhabitants of the earth; and none can stay his hand or say to him, 'What have you done?'" (Daniel 4:35). He also "causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28). Even thunder claps.

Right and wrong exhaustion

It's just me and the boys this weekend. Kristen is away on a weekend trip with the girls she lived with in college, and we are grateful that she can be there. However, it hasn't been easy. I've been pretty sick, along with Baxter, and Owen says he is sick, though he hasn't shown any symptoms (though when asked, he does give a staggering list of symptoms which would foil the most capable diagnostician, such as "I'm sick in my mouth, but it comes in my throat and goes out my mouth when I cough..."). Needless to say, I'm exhausted tonight. (By the way, these trips are great for a number of reasons, including the chance to get some quality "boy play time," as Owen calls it, as well as the chance to experience what it's like every day for Kristen...motherhood is indeed a high and valuable and thoroughly-exhausting calling!)

But is it wrong to be exhausted after a long day of taking care of children? Kristen and I talked about this recently. I think there is a right exhaustion and a wrong exhaustion. There is a kind of godly, biblically-faithful, and God-honoring exhaustion, and there is a kind of ungodly, unbiblical, and self-exalting exhaustion. The difference centers mainly around where we have been drawing our strength from in our labors. If our source of strength throughout the day has been ourselves, then we will often end up exhausted with the kind of exhaustion that leaves a bad taste in our mouth. It's the kind of exhaustion that is hopeless and unsatisfying. But if our source of strength throughout the day has been the Lord, then we will close the day with a sweet, peaceful, fulfilling kind of exhaustion. That is a hope-filled and satisfying exhaustion, stemming from the honest and humble realization that the day's energies have been fully spent for the glory of God.

If we are fulfilling our God-given callings with all diligence, faithfulness, and humble dependence on God and "the strength that He supplies" (1 Peter 4:11, Ephesians 6:10), then it is right for us to be exhausted. In a very real sense, we should be exhausted in this way.

When we are exhausted, I think we should be asking ourselves, "Am I exhausted because I've been living my day as if God didn't exist, self-sufficient and relying on the wisdom of man? Or am I exhausted because I've been vigorously carrying out the roles and responsibilities God has given to me, looking to Him continually for supplies of grace and strength, spending myself for the advancement of His kingdom, and living with all my might while I do live?" (Jonathan Edwards, Resolution #6). Next time you sigh that big sigh, or speak about how exhausted you are to your spouse or friend, take a moment to consider these things, asking the Holy Spirit to convict you of the sin of self-sufficiency and to enable you to live out Colossians 3:23-24: "Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ."