“For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” 1 Corinthians 1:18

God has saved us through the foolishness that is the message of the cross. Did you notice in the passage above, in contrast to the world’s evaluation of the message of the cross as “foolishness,” Paul does not describe it as “wisdom,” which we might consider the natural opposite. He calls it “power.” That’s because this message is not just information that educates us. These words have power that change us. It penetrates our hearts and souls and clashes with what it finds there, and in the end it makes us different people.

But it does so not in a harsh and forced way. The miracle of this power of the cross is that it works through love. Long before evangelical Christians in our country began to make so much use of the term “born again,” they described themselves as people who had been “seized by the power of a great affection” (See Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel). And it is the cross, that sign of weakness and failure, that brutal, gory, scary event that shows us the worst mankind has to offer, that opens up to us the full depth of that affection and love of God. It is hard to look at, this is true. It is hard to see the good. But only at the cross can we see that God’s love for us knows no bounds. No price is too much for God if only he can make us his own again. He would suffer death for our sins himself before he would let our sins kill us. He would suffer hell in our place before he would let us suffer hell ourselves. He would pay everything, do everything, give everything necessary to save us before he would let us pay even a fraction of a penny, before he would let us take even the smallest part or make even the smallest sacrifice to set ourselves free from guilt and the punishment our sins deserved.

Maybe that doesn’t make sense. Maybe it seems unjust for an innocent man to die for the guilty. Maybe it seems foolish that one man could die for the sins of a whole world, including those who lived thousands of years before him, and those who lived thousands of years after him. So who’s complaining? God doesn’t ask us to make that message palatable for a world of do-it-yourselfers. He doesn’t ask us to make it reasonable for world that thinks it knows more than it does. Let the message sound as foolish as it does. But know that God loved you so much anyway.

And know that the power of that message still works on the hearts of you and countless others to save us today.

Generally God calls himself our Father. But from time to time he compares the way he cares for us to the tender, motherly care our mothers extended to us each day. “You will nurse and be carried on her arm and dandled on her knees. As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem” (Isaiah 66:13).

Are you at the very end of your strength? Do you find yourself at a place where you don’t know what to do, where you can’t get through the challenge, where it is simply too big for you to get over? The idea behind that “Footprints in the Sand” poem that’s so popular isn’t some new revelation. Isaiah promises you will be “carried on her (in this case, God’s) arm.”

Do you simply need someone to love you and pay attention to you?  You will be “dandled on the knee.” You see, God didn’t bring you into a relationship with himself just to press you into work and get some cheap volunteer labor out of you. He actually takes an interest in you. He enjoys just having you. Like a mother who is happy just to hold her child and play with it and bounce it on her knees, the Lord is happy just to have you, and talk to you, and see you enjoy his blessings.

So it is that he comforts us over the sins of which we are guilty and the threats that we perceive to the people of God on earth. Don’t despair when it appears that the church is in decline, whether in numbers or in strength, because God promises to care for us like a doting mother and give his people  unending peace.

(Photo by Christopher Michel – A mothers love, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=37115846)

You and I can wring our hands about the unraveling of the church’s moral fabric, but if we’re honest, we have to admit that we have done our own share of thread pulling: sexual indiscretions when we are young and cowardly looking the other way when we are old; lying to avoid taking responsibility for mistakes and letting someone else take the rap; laughing at jokes and entertainment and using language that ought to fill us with shame; and all the while dutifully going about our public lives as Christians. Yes, we have pulled our own threads out of the moral fabric of our people. We may lament having to live with the consequences of our current moral crisis, but we know that we don’t deserve any better. What we deserve is far worse, and God has something far worse prepared for those who will not repent.

It has always been this way. Over two thousand seven hundred years ago the LORD warned his people through Isaiah, “They have chosen their own ways, and they delight in their abominations; so I also will choose harsh treatment for them and will bring on them what they dread” (Isaiah 66:3-4).

But warning and judgment are never the last word for the God of Scripture. He never goes long without holding out a promise of Grace. Now he offers us something far better. “For this is what the Lord says: I will extend peace to her like a river…” (Isaiah 66:12). What the Lord offers us is peace. This is not a truce, in which neither side wins, but both sides agree to give up the fight. No, our Lord has won the war. He has destroyed everything in us that was offensive by the death of his Son on the cross. He has put down our rebellion by the forgiveness of our sins. He has overcome our resistance by the onslaught of his love. He has overwhelmed our defenses as he sent in wave after wave of his grace, pouring in over our lines, disarming our wills, and conquering our hearts. God has extended spiritual peace to us through the work of his Son and the preaching of his gospel.

And that peace keeps flowing to us in an unending supply. He extends peace to us like a river. This is not a little creek that might disappear in a dry year. The word river here is the word that is used to describe the Nile, the Tigris, or the Euphrates. This is like the mighty Mississippi, swiftly, relentlessly pushing great volumes of water along on its way to the ocean. If you live in New Orleans, you might run the risk of being overwhelmed and flooded by the Mississippi, but it’s not going to shrink up and leave you dry. God’s peace in the forgiveness of sins and the giving of his love relentlessly, generously flows to us in an overflowing supply.

The ancient Jews recognized that peace with God meant more than an end to the fight. When one is at peace with God, then everything else in life is affected. We gain a sense of serenity and wholeness in knowing that things are the way they are supposed to be. That doesn’t mean everything is pleasant or easy, but God is in control, and God loves me, so everything must be serving both him and me.

(Photo by Walter Siegmund – Own work, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1446381)

I am usually the one bringing a good word from God to someone in distress. But I have been on the other side of the transaction, too. Twenty years ago we rushed my little boy to the hospital as he struggled to get a breath. His gasps for air were coming at more than one per second. He cried, but there were no tears. The staff at the first hospital were unable to get an IV started. An ambulance rushed him to the Children’s Hospital where they have more experience with infants. The next morning his condition was stable, and his parents had not had a wink of sleep.

My pastor found us in a room that morning, my son in a crib, my wife in a chair, and me sitting on the floor–all of us exhausted. His visit was short, perhaps no more than 10 minutes. He spoke about Joshua 1:9, “Be strong and courageous…the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” He prayed. He left us to rest.

Those words that morning were like food. We devoured them like people on the edge of starvation. I felt like King David’s dear friend, Saul’s son, Jonathan discovering honey after an exhausting battle. “He reached out the end of the staff that was in his hand and dipped it into the honeycomb. He raised his hand to his mouth and his eyes brightened” (1 Samuel 14:27). Our souls brightened to hear God’s promise of presence after a night of battling for our child’s life.

“Hunger is the best cook,” they say. Guilt, regret, illness, heartache, rejection, danger, loss–these create the hunger that whets our appetite for just a taste, just a bite, from God’s promises. “My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life,” the psalmist observes in Psalm 119 (vs. 50). I pray that the words and promises on this page, even if just little bits of bread for the soul, will brighten your eyes.

There is a scene toward the end of the first Toy Story movie in which Woody and Buzz are stuck in the evil next-door-neighbor-boy’s bedroom. Buzz is depressed because he has learned that he isn’t a real action hero. He’s just a toy. Woody is trying to help him to snap out of it by telling him what a cool thing it is to be a toy, and what a cool toy Buzz is with all his features, and how great it is to belong to their owner, Andy. Buzz looks at Andy’s name written in marker on the bottom of his foot, claiming him as his own, and suddenly overcomes his identity crisis.

The scene in the movie is a poignant one, but the idea of being owned by someone else generally doesn’t appeal to us. By nature, we want to be free and independent. For most people, being someone else’s piece of property, a slave, is as low as it gets.

But by faith we do belong to Jesus, and we are his treasured possession. “My sheep,” he calls us. In our human relationships, perhaps the closest we get to wanting to belong to someone else, to being possessed by someone else, is in romance and marriage. And God uses that picture for his relationship with us, too. But more than that, he owns us as his property– not just property for him to use, but property on which he lavishes his care.

An old next door neighbor of mine used to own a classic car, and every free moment he was in the driveway washing that car, and waxing that car, and under the hood fine tuning something or other. If that car were a woman, she would have been the happiest woman in the world!

There is not a single moment in which Jesus is not giving us his full attention, making us beautiful and fine tuning us spiritually. And we all know he doesn’t have very good material to work with here! He has created us, redeemed us with his blood,  sought us with his word, and now sanctifies us by his Spirit.

I become his sheep when I hear his voice in his word. The word gives us faith. But it is also true that I love to listen to his voice because he has made me his sheep. If he hadn’t done this– made me his own, claimed me for himself– I wouldn’t listen. The fact that you and I listen to his voice is itself a gift of his grace.

And when we listen to his voice, he tells us such wonderful things! He whispers in our ears, “I forgive you all your sins.” He comforts us, “I am always with you.” He is constantly courting us with promises of a home with him, and strength for the day, and help with our burdens, and relief from our guilt. When we hear his voice, then we know what a blessed thing it is that when he sees us, he says, “That one’s mine!”