It occurred to me today what an amazingly beautiful verse is Luke 16:31. The context is that this rich man has died and gone to hell, and he’s begging Abraham to resurrect a poor man named Lazarus (who was in heaven) so that the rich man’s family might see the resurrection and believe and avoid hell. Abraham responds, “If they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead.”

That is such amazing evidence of God’s sovereignty over our souls! How many lost people have we had say to us, “if only I could see with my own eyes,” or “I’ll believe if I see a real miracle,” or “I’d believe if science couldn’t explain everything”? And the right response to that–the response we should have in our heads if not in our mouths–is you still wouldn’t believe. All of the “evidence” any of us needs is painted all around us: creation, our consciences, and, most importantly, the Word of God. These are all miraculous things, and as believers we can pause in awe as we witness the supernaturalness. In creation, we see marvelous complexity and irrefutable evidence of design. In our conscience, we see that there is plainly a law written on our hearts that is without explanation apart from God. And in the Word, we see the power of God (1 Corinthians 1:18) itself. But all of these things are non-obvious to the lost person. They see evolution, they see societal impressions; they see an old book.

It is God and God alone who opens our eyes. We could parade the most miraculous of all miracles in front of our depraved minds, and in our sin we would still fail to see a Miracle-Maker. It isn’t “proof” that changes our mind, it’s grace. Grace unmeasured.

My soul delights in the Lord! Apart from Him I am as blind and dead as one can possibly imagine; apart from Him, truth could have no impact on me.

Tags: faith the sovereignty of God theology verses wretchedness

I was thinking today: I’ve been married for about three years. I’m twenty-three years old. But here I am, writing a series on submission.

Is that arrogant? Because I’ve got a confession to make: I’m not very good at it!

I suppose I should have been clearer on that point at the beginning. I’m writing this series because I need to hear it. Not because I’ve got the market cornered. Just ask my husband! He reads my drafts (often, not always), and I can tell you what he’s thinking: she can say it, but can she live it?

To a certain extent, this whole journal is full of me writing about subjects I’m not so good at living. But submission is particularly humbling for me, because there are all kinds of godly women out there (probably including some of the ones I criticized in this post) who really don’t struggle with submission–the way some women don’t struggle with discussing intricacies of theology. We have strengths and we have weaknesses, by God’s grace, and for some women, submission is a strength!

But not for me. I struggle. I’m stubborn. I’m independent. I usually tell people when I think they’re wrong. I’m opinionated.

Please keep that in mind if you’re reading here. You’re reading the story of my struggle to understand and internalize the command of God for me to be submissive to my husband. I’m writing what I learn from Scripture, yes, and I’ll write with conviction, but I’m studying first and foremost to convict my own heart. These words spring out of frailty, not accomplishment.

Tags: biblical wifehood wretchedness

This is part of a series. You can read the introduction first or view all the posts together.

One of the bigger duh moments in my life came when I stumbled upon [bible]Galatians 6:9[/bible]: “And let us not grow weary of doing good…” Growing weary in well-doing is an easy thing here. It’s heart-wrenching when we pour our lives into a person in evangelism, only to have that person walk away and never come to Christ, and discouraging when we put time and money into a mercy ministry only to have someone tear it down. Yes, even here on earth, we are commanded not to grow weary, because we know what’s to come, but still–weariness tempts us. We’re not where we belong, and a lost world can be very unconducive to our joy if we get caught up in it.

So there’s a sense in which world-weariness comes easily, especially when we’re engrossed in “doing good” and the fallen things we deal with here keep getting in the way. But there’s another kind of world-weariness that seems to come not so easily.[bibleblock]1 John 2:15-17[/bibleblock]Desires of the flesh, desires of the eyes; pride in possessions: all will be gone. If those are the things we’re setting our sights on, even temporarily, we will be horrified at the prospect of heaven, because heaven means that the worldly things are passed away. Part of cultivating heavenwardness, then, is examining my heart closely and, with God’s grace, eliminating the parts that want bits and pieces of this world to keep.

Another aspect of world-weariness that heaven will free us from is witnessing the rebellion of the unrighteous.[bibleblock]Romans 1:28-32[/bibleblock]Is it possible to read that passage without cringing? That’s the reality of life without God, and that’s what we witness all around us every day, knowing all the while how utterly offensive sin is to God. But in heaven, we won’t have to witness that anymore. Everyone and everything will acknowledge and worship God in spirit and in truth!

As we grow more and more consumed with awareness of how repugnant fallenness really is, then the delight of heaven will become that much more dear, because there is no world to grow weary of there!

Tags: cultivating heavenwardness ten reasons why I want to go to heaven theology verses wretchedness