2 Kings 9:30–10:36; Galatians 1:1–2:21; Proverbs 7:1–9
We’re fine with the idea of God being our savior, but we’re not always keen on the notion of letting Him transform every area of our lives. We often emphasize sharing the gospel, but do we consider the reality of the outcome?
It’s a question Paul poses to the church in Galatia. Typically, when Paul opens a letter to a church, he follows his greeting with a prayer of thanksgiving for the members of the community. But in his correspondence with the Galatians, he skips the niceties and opts for a biting remark, signaling that something is drastically wrong.
“I am astonished that you are turning away so quickly from the one who called you by the grace of Christ to a different gospel, not that there is a different gospel, except there are some who are disturbing you and wanting to distort the gospel of Christ” (Gal 1:6–9).
Paul’s message is especially cutting because the Galatians knew better. Paul himself had preached the gospel to them. After he left and false teachers infiltrated the community, the Galatians veered off course. Instead of holding to the true teaching or even testing these teachers’ claims against the gospel message, the Galatians adopted a new, counterfeit gospel.
Paul interrogates the Galatians, who may have been affected by the teaching of people who wanted them to adopt Jewish legal requirements, asking, “Did you receive the Spirit by works of the law or by hearing with faith? Are you so foolish? Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh?” (Gal 3:2–3). The simple gospel had been cluttered by attempts to remain obedient to the law. The believers were no longer living in the Spirit.
We are prone to push aside the lesson in this passage by claiming that it’s specific to that context, but we might be guilty of this very fault. Do we think of becoming a Christian—getting saved—as the end of the journey? The reality of the gospel should affect all areas of our lives, which can now be used to give God the glory. Our entire lives—our thought processes, our ideals and theologies, our relationships—should reflect Christ and be shaped by the Spirit. The gospel isn’t for one moment. It’s going to transform everything.
Have you, without realizing it, turned from the gospel? What area of your life needs to be transformed?
REBECCA VAN NOORD
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Tuesday, November 22, 2016
Wednesday, November 16, 2016
I (Don't) Want To Hear It
1 Kings 22:1–53; Mark 12:35–13:23; Proverbs 5:11–23
My attempts to find guidance are often flawed. I long for honest appraisal of my actions, but I can sometimes be sneaky about choosing my appraiser. When those who know me present a real, raw look at my life and offer hard, helping words, I can become defensive and angry. I might pick a fresh voice instead—someone who doesn’t know my weaknesses and tendencies. “They’re not biased,” I tell myself.
When Ahab and Jehoshaphat combine forces to recapture Ramoth-gilead from the Syrians, they want divine assurance. However, they aren’t necessarily willing to receive divine direction. Ahab, king of Israel, inquires of his 400 prophets, and they assure him of victory. Jehoshaphat isn’t convinced, so he asks for “a prophet of Yahweh.”
Ahab’s response isn’t so far from my own: “Then the king of Israel said to Jehoshaphat, ‘There is still one man to inquire from Yahweh, but I despise him, for he never prophesies anything good concerning me, but only bad: Micaiah the son of Imlah’ ” (1 Kgs 22:8).
Micaiah can’t really win when it comes to Ahab. When he responds sarcastically to Ahab’s request—telling him he’ll conquer and win—Ahab demands he tell the truth. When Micaiah reveals what Ahab doesn’t want to hear—imminent defeat—Ahab complains that Micaiah never prophesies anything good about him.
When we hear hard words, we often take out our aggression out on the messenger. We regard them as the one at fault. “You always respond this way,” we’ll say. “You don’t really understand me.” Soon, we avoid these truth-tellers because their words of truth expose our sin. And if our sin remains concealed, we won’t have to admit it exists. If we don’t admit it, we won’t have to confess it. And if we don’t confess it, we won’t have to turn from it.
It’s all too easy to avoid necessary reform. But if we truly seek to follow God, we can’t avoid the hard truth. When we truly need guidance, we must be willing to face the truth-tellers—even when it hurts.
Who are the people you go to for guidance? Why? Whose guidance are you really rebelling against?
REBECCA VAN NOORD
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
My attempts to find guidance are often flawed. I long for honest appraisal of my actions, but I can sometimes be sneaky about choosing my appraiser. When those who know me present a real, raw look at my life and offer hard, helping words, I can become defensive and angry. I might pick a fresh voice instead—someone who doesn’t know my weaknesses and tendencies. “They’re not biased,” I tell myself.
When Ahab and Jehoshaphat combine forces to recapture Ramoth-gilead from the Syrians, they want divine assurance. However, they aren’t necessarily willing to receive divine direction. Ahab, king of Israel, inquires of his 400 prophets, and they assure him of victory. Jehoshaphat isn’t convinced, so he asks for “a prophet of Yahweh.”
Ahab’s response isn’t so far from my own: “Then the king of Israel said to Jehoshaphat, ‘There is still one man to inquire from Yahweh, but I despise him, for he never prophesies anything good concerning me, but only bad: Micaiah the son of Imlah’ ” (1 Kgs 22:8).
Micaiah can’t really win when it comes to Ahab. When he responds sarcastically to Ahab’s request—telling him he’ll conquer and win—Ahab demands he tell the truth. When Micaiah reveals what Ahab doesn’t want to hear—imminent defeat—Ahab complains that Micaiah never prophesies anything good about him.
When we hear hard words, we often take out our aggression out on the messenger. We regard them as the one at fault. “You always respond this way,” we’ll say. “You don’t really understand me.” Soon, we avoid these truth-tellers because their words of truth expose our sin. And if our sin remains concealed, we won’t have to admit it exists. If we don’t admit it, we won’t have to confess it. And if we don’t confess it, we won’t have to turn from it.
It’s all too easy to avoid necessary reform. But if we truly seek to follow God, we can’t avoid the hard truth. When we truly need guidance, we must be willing to face the truth-tellers—even when it hurts.
Who are the people you go to for guidance? Why? Whose guidance are you really rebelling against?
REBECCA VAN NOORD
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Tuesday, November 15, 2016
ECONOMICS, CURRENCY, AND CAESAR
1 Kings 20:26–21:29; Mark 12:1–34; Proverbs 5:1–10
Jesus’ command to pay taxes is one of the trickier passages in the NT. The actual line isn’t tricky—“Give to Caesar the things of Caesar, and to God the things of God” (Mark 12:17)—but its origins and Jesus’ exact reasoning aren’t as clear.
People have taken this passage to suggest that Jesus was in favor of government or taxes. But this interpretation misses the point. We’re meant to learn from Jesus here, not take away some regulation. Certainly Jesus condones paying taxes and charity work, but those points touch only on the basics of His statement.
First, Jesus is annoyed. The Pharisees and Herodians are testing Him with this question, and He doesn’t approve. His reaction suggests that simply taking away a “law” here would sadden Him, for that’s all the Pharisees and Herodians cared about (Mark 12:15). The “law” would address only the political question.
Jesus goes on to ask for a denarius, signaling that He doesn’t have one—He is poor (Mark 12:15–16). This coin had Caesar’s image on it and claimed divinity for Caesar. Jesus’ remark acknowledges the claim: “Give to Caesar the currency of his kingdom’s economy.” He also addresses the larger issue of the “image of God” (Gen 1:27): “Give to God the things of God” (Mark 12:17). What belongs to God? The entire world and everything in it—our very selves. We are meant, as members of God’s work, to act as people who operate within His currency of sacrificial living.
The Pharisees and Herodians’ question and Jesus’ answer are political, but the politics are eternal. The economics have ramifications for all people, for all time. They change the way we as Christians act and operate. They change what we value. The economic shift is an “image-bearing” shift.
Whom do you serve? Give to God what He deserves. Give to the kingdoms of this world what they have created (their currency). Give to God what is God’s—your very life. Operate under God’s currency as one who bears His image.
What is God asking you to give?
JOHN D. BARRY
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Jesus’ command to pay taxes is one of the trickier passages in the NT. The actual line isn’t tricky—“Give to Caesar the things of Caesar, and to God the things of God” (Mark 12:17)—but its origins and Jesus’ exact reasoning aren’t as clear.
People have taken this passage to suggest that Jesus was in favor of government or taxes. But this interpretation misses the point. We’re meant to learn from Jesus here, not take away some regulation. Certainly Jesus condones paying taxes and charity work, but those points touch only on the basics of His statement.
First, Jesus is annoyed. The Pharisees and Herodians are testing Him with this question, and He doesn’t approve. His reaction suggests that simply taking away a “law” here would sadden Him, for that’s all the Pharisees and Herodians cared about (Mark 12:15). The “law” would address only the political question.
Jesus goes on to ask for a denarius, signaling that He doesn’t have one—He is poor (Mark 12:15–16). This coin had Caesar’s image on it and claimed divinity for Caesar. Jesus’ remark acknowledges the claim: “Give to Caesar the currency of his kingdom’s economy.” He also addresses the larger issue of the “image of God” (Gen 1:27): “Give to God the things of God” (Mark 12:17). What belongs to God? The entire world and everything in it—our very selves. We are meant, as members of God’s work, to act as people who operate within His currency of sacrificial living.
The Pharisees and Herodians’ question and Jesus’ answer are political, but the politics are eternal. The economics have ramifications for all people, for all time. They change the way we as Christians act and operate. They change what we value. The economic shift is an “image-bearing” shift.
Whom do you serve? Give to God what He deserves. Give to the kingdoms of this world what they have created (their currency). Give to God what is God’s—your very life. Operate under God’s currency as one who bears His image.
What is God asking you to give?
JOHN D. BARRY
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Monday, November 14, 2016
STAYING THE COURSE
1 Kings 19:1–20:25; Mark 11:1–33; Proverbs 4:18–27
“May your eyes look forward and your gaze be straight before you. May the path of your foot be balanced and all your ways be sure. Do not swerve right or left; remove your foot from evil” (Prov 4:25–27).
These verses reflect someone who has incredible purpose. I imagine an acrobat walking a tightrope—knees bent, one foot carefully placed in front of the other, and nothing but a slender rope keeping him from plummeting to the ground. Such efforts would require incredible calm, effort, and focus—especially focus. The body naturally follows the path of our eyes, which is detrimental if we’re focused on the wrong thing.
The idea of staying the course illustrates God’s path and purpose for us. When we act, speak, and follow that path, we are carrying out His will for our lives. But there’s a problem: We can’t. All of our efforts are tainted. Our knees are bound to buckle, we’re sure to misstep, and it’s just a matter of time before we swerve to our own disadvantage.
Before we lose hope, though, we can remember God’s sacrifice. Jesus’ work of redeeming us has reversed our fate. The threat is gone—and that changes everything. Our lives are infused with the incredible purpose of His costly death. We have a renewed sense of hope because of His resurrection.
The cross puts everything in perspective. It is the new focus of our gaze. From His sacrifice to the time when redemption is complete, we are meant to live intentional lives that reflect His purpose. Keeping our eyes on Him helps us to stay on the path.
How are you staying the course?
REBECCA VAN NOORD
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
“May your eyes look forward and your gaze be straight before you. May the path of your foot be balanced and all your ways be sure. Do not swerve right or left; remove your foot from evil” (Prov 4:25–27).
These verses reflect someone who has incredible purpose. I imagine an acrobat walking a tightrope—knees bent, one foot carefully placed in front of the other, and nothing but a slender rope keeping him from plummeting to the ground. Such efforts would require incredible calm, effort, and focus—especially focus. The body naturally follows the path of our eyes, which is detrimental if we’re focused on the wrong thing.
The idea of staying the course illustrates God’s path and purpose for us. When we act, speak, and follow that path, we are carrying out His will for our lives. But there’s a problem: We can’t. All of our efforts are tainted. Our knees are bound to buckle, we’re sure to misstep, and it’s just a matter of time before we swerve to our own disadvantage.
Before we lose hope, though, we can remember God’s sacrifice. Jesus’ work of redeeming us has reversed our fate. The threat is gone—and that changes everything. Our lives are infused with the incredible purpose of His costly death. We have a renewed sense of hope because of His resurrection.
The cross puts everything in perspective. It is the new focus of our gaze. From His sacrifice to the time when redemption is complete, we are meant to live intentional lives that reflect His purpose. Keeping our eyes on Him helps us to stay on the path.
How are you staying the course?
REBECCA VAN NOORD
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Saturday, November 12, 2016
EXCLUSIVITY
1 Kings 15:25–17:24; Mark 9:38–10:16; Proverbs 4:1–7
We often think that God needs us—that we are His arms rather than His agents. When we see our work as integral to God’s kingdom, thinking that God needs us, our vision, our doctrines, or our ideas in order to further His kingdom, we might be guilty of something else entirely. These feelings are often motivated by our own feelings of inadequacy. We can sometimes be more concerned with proving ourselves than honoring God.
When the disciples learned that others were casting out demons in Jesus’ name, they tried to prevent them. “We saw … and we tried to prevent him because he was not following us,” they told Jesus (Mark 9:38). But Jesus only rebuked them: “There is no one who does a miracle in my name and will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. For whoever is not against us is for us. For whoever gives you a cup of water to drink in my name because you are Christ’s, truly I say to you that he will never lose his reward” (Mark 9:38–41).
The disciples needed to be reminded that they had been chosen, but they were not exclusive agents. Having had difficulty casting out demons themselves, the disciples may have been jealous of this man’s ability. But Jesus reminded them that even the smallest task completed in His name—even giving someone a drink of water—is work done for His kingdom that will be rewarded.
Although He doesn’t need our help, Jesus invites each of us to be part of His plan. He desires our involvement if we do so obediently and willingly, with no thought to how great our actions will be weighed. When we accept that offer and join in His work, we are following Him and making much of Him. We won’t be distracted by ourselves.
How open are you to the idea that God can work in ways that don’t depend on us?
REBECCA VAN NOORD
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
We often think that God needs us—that we are His arms rather than His agents. When we see our work as integral to God’s kingdom, thinking that God needs us, our vision, our doctrines, or our ideas in order to further His kingdom, we might be guilty of something else entirely. These feelings are often motivated by our own feelings of inadequacy. We can sometimes be more concerned with proving ourselves than honoring God.
When the disciples learned that others were casting out demons in Jesus’ name, they tried to prevent them. “We saw … and we tried to prevent him because he was not following us,” they told Jesus (Mark 9:38). But Jesus only rebuked them: “There is no one who does a miracle in my name and will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. For whoever is not against us is for us. For whoever gives you a cup of water to drink in my name because you are Christ’s, truly I say to you that he will never lose his reward” (Mark 9:38–41).
The disciples needed to be reminded that they had been chosen, but they were not exclusive agents. Having had difficulty casting out demons themselves, the disciples may have been jealous of this man’s ability. But Jesus reminded them that even the smallest task completed in His name—even giving someone a drink of water—is work done for His kingdom that will be rewarded.
Although He doesn’t need our help, Jesus invites each of us to be part of His plan. He desires our involvement if we do so obediently and willingly, with no thought to how great our actions will be weighed. When we accept that offer and join in His work, we are following Him and making much of Him. We won’t be distracted by ourselves.
How open are you to the idea that God can work in ways that don’t depend on us?
REBECCA VAN NOORD
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Friday, November 11, 2016
TRADITIONS AND MIRACLES
1 Kings 14:1–15:24; Mark 9:2–37; Proverbs 3:23–35
In the face of perplexing situations, we naturally respond with what we know and understand—we even take refuge in familiar traditions. This is precisely how Jesus’ disciples respond when Jesus is transfigured before them.
After Jesus is transformed and Moses and Elijah appear, Peter says, “Rabbi, it is good that we are here! And let us make three shelters, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah” (Mark 9:5). Peter is drawing on the Festival of Tabernacles (or Booths), which celebrated God’s dwelling among His people (Lev 23:42–43). Peter isn’t certain how to respond, so he evokes a tradition. At least Peter understands that this confusing event shows God at work among His people.
But is Peter’s response the correct one? Mark gives us a hint in an aside: “For [Peter] did not know what he should answer, because they [Peter, James, and John] were terrified” (Mark 9:6). It’s not surprising that Peter has trouble understanding this situation—who could? But his response, underscored by the editorial aside in Mark, suggests something larger about how we, as the audience of this Gospel, should understand Jesus.
When Jesus reveals Himself to us—really inaugurates His reign in our lives—it may be terrifying, but we do not need to resort to our traditions to understand it. By going back to our old ways, we might lose sight of the point of God’s work altogether. Instead, we must be ready to accept what is new. We must realize that when God acts, the results will be unexpected and perhaps unexplainable. When God intercedes in our lives, when He lets us experience Him, our lives—our very view of the world—will change.
What traditions is Jesus radically altering in your life?
JOHN D. BARRY
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
In the face of perplexing situations, we naturally respond with what we know and understand—we even take refuge in familiar traditions. This is precisely how Jesus’ disciples respond when Jesus is transfigured before them.
After Jesus is transformed and Moses and Elijah appear, Peter says, “Rabbi, it is good that we are here! And let us make three shelters, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah” (Mark 9:5). Peter is drawing on the Festival of Tabernacles (or Booths), which celebrated God’s dwelling among His people (Lev 23:42–43). Peter isn’t certain how to respond, so he evokes a tradition. At least Peter understands that this confusing event shows God at work among His people.
But is Peter’s response the correct one? Mark gives us a hint in an aside: “For [Peter] did not know what he should answer, because they [Peter, James, and John] were terrified” (Mark 9:6). It’s not surprising that Peter has trouble understanding this situation—who could? But his response, underscored by the editorial aside in Mark, suggests something larger about how we, as the audience of this Gospel, should understand Jesus.
When Jesus reveals Himself to us—really inaugurates His reign in our lives—it may be terrifying, but we do not need to resort to our traditions to understand it. By going back to our old ways, we might lose sight of the point of God’s work altogether. Instead, we must be ready to accept what is new. We must realize that when God acts, the results will be unexpected and perhaps unexplainable. When God intercedes in our lives, when He lets us experience Him, our lives—our very view of the world—will change.
What traditions is Jesus radically altering in your life?
JOHN D. BARRY
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Thursday, November 10, 2016
TAKE UP YOUR CROSS
1 Kings 13:1–34; Mark 8:11–9:1; Proverbs 3:13–22
The way we respond to desperate circumstances often clarifies what gives us hope. Jesus’ followers faced the very real threat of death by choosing to follow Him—something He warns them about: “And summoning the crowd together with his disciples, he said to them, ‘If anyone wants to come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life on account of me and of the gospel will save it’ ” (Mark 8:34–35).
In Jesus’ time, “taking up the cross” would have been associated with a shameful death at the hands of the ruling Roman powers. To risk suffering this type of shameful death required more than lukewarm commitment.
Jesus doesn’t limit this calling to His disciples; anyone who “wants to come after” faces this uncertainty and must hold a faith that displays this loyalty. For some Christians today, following Jesus means opposition and death. For most of us, it doesn’t. Yet Jesus goes on to show that this type of devotion is still relevant today: “For whoever is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will also be ashamed of him when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels” (Mark 8:36–38).
Many of our lives reflect a lax neutrality—a purposeless ease that avoids conflict and commitment. We might shy away from bold claims. We might fade into the wallpaper in an attempt to fit in. We might show reluctance to declare Christ’s name.
What does commitment look like for you? Are you following Jesus with this type of devotion? Or do you hesitate to share the good news?
How are you taking up your cross?
REBECCA VAN NOORD
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
The way we respond to desperate circumstances often clarifies what gives us hope. Jesus’ followers faced the very real threat of death by choosing to follow Him—something He warns them about: “And summoning the crowd together with his disciples, he said to them, ‘If anyone wants to come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life on account of me and of the gospel will save it’ ” (Mark 8:34–35).
In Jesus’ time, “taking up the cross” would have been associated with a shameful death at the hands of the ruling Roman powers. To risk suffering this type of shameful death required more than lukewarm commitment.
Jesus doesn’t limit this calling to His disciples; anyone who “wants to come after” faces this uncertainty and must hold a faith that displays this loyalty. For some Christians today, following Jesus means opposition and death. For most of us, it doesn’t. Yet Jesus goes on to show that this type of devotion is still relevant today: “For whoever is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will also be ashamed of him when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels” (Mark 8:36–38).
Many of our lives reflect a lax neutrality—a purposeless ease that avoids conflict and commitment. We might shy away from bold claims. We might fade into the wallpaper in an attempt to fit in. We might show reluctance to declare Christ’s name.
What does commitment look like for you? Are you following Jesus with this type of devotion? Or do you hesitate to share the good news?
How are you taking up your cross?
REBECCA VAN NOORD
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
FEAR NOT WHAT'S OUTSIDE, BUT INSIDE
1 Kings 11:9–12:33; Mark 7:14–8:10; Proverbs 3:6–3:12
How should we respond to a miraculous experience? Worshiping God for His goodness is the right place to start, but our ongoing response is every bit as important as our initial reaction. We see this play out in Solomon’s life.
“Yahweh was angry with Solomon, for he had turned his heart from Yahweh, the God of Israel who had appeared to him twice. And [Yahweh] commanded [Solomon] concerning this matter not to go after other gods, but he did not keep that which Yahweh commanded” (1 Kgs 11:9–10).
Despite Solomon’s experience with Yahweh, he chose to deny Him. This angered Yahweh—not just because of the general disobedience, but also because, after Solomon’s miraculous experience, he had more reason than anyone to stay devoted. Solomon’s refusal of the opportunity to turn back to Yahweh only aggravated the situation.
We don’t know exactly what led Solomon to disobey, although selfish desire, lust, and power seem to dominate his poor decisions. We can be certain that his inner thoughts drove him to act in the way he did. Solomon’s situation is reminiscent of Jesus’ remark about what defiles a person: “For from within, from the heart of people, come evil plans, sexual immoralities, thefts, murders, adulteries, acts of greed, malicious deeds, deceit, licentiousness, envy, abusive speech, pride, foolishness. All these evil things come from within and defile a person” (Mark 7:21–23).
How many of us have at some point walked off God’s path and excused our actions in the name of grace? Solomon had ample opportunity to return to God, yet he continued to aggravate Him. How many of us react the same way to the goodness God has offered us?
What is happening “in” you that leads to the evil in your life? How can you allow the Spirit to resolve that?
JOHN D. BARRY
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
How should we respond to a miraculous experience? Worshiping God for His goodness is the right place to start, but our ongoing response is every bit as important as our initial reaction. We see this play out in Solomon’s life.
“Yahweh was angry with Solomon, for he had turned his heart from Yahweh, the God of Israel who had appeared to him twice. And [Yahweh] commanded [Solomon] concerning this matter not to go after other gods, but he did not keep that which Yahweh commanded” (1 Kgs 11:9–10).
Despite Solomon’s experience with Yahweh, he chose to deny Him. This angered Yahweh—not just because of the general disobedience, but also because, after Solomon’s miraculous experience, he had more reason than anyone to stay devoted. Solomon’s refusal of the opportunity to turn back to Yahweh only aggravated the situation.
We don’t know exactly what led Solomon to disobey, although selfish desire, lust, and power seem to dominate his poor decisions. We can be certain that his inner thoughts drove him to act in the way he did. Solomon’s situation is reminiscent of Jesus’ remark about what defiles a person: “For from within, from the heart of people, come evil plans, sexual immoralities, thefts, murders, adulteries, acts of greed, malicious deeds, deceit, licentiousness, envy, abusive speech, pride, foolishness. All these evil things come from within and defile a person” (Mark 7:21–23).
How many of us have at some point walked off God’s path and excused our actions in the name of grace? Solomon had ample opportunity to return to God, yet he continued to aggravate Him. How many of us react the same way to the goodness God has offered us?
What is happening “in” you that leads to the evil in your life? How can you allow the Spirit to resolve that?
JOHN D. BARRY
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Tuesday, November 8, 2016
TRADITIONS AND A PRIORITY PROBLEM
1 Kings 10:1–11:8; Mark 6:45–7:13; Proverbs 3:1–5
Traditions make us feel secure. They give us a sense of camaraderie with those who came before us, and they can build a sense of community with those around us. But traditions handed down unexamined can be dangerous. We can apply them in contexts that differ from those in which they were born—often leading to disastrous results, offenses, and misunderstanding. More dangerously, we might consider these human traditions to be the commands of God—or above His commands. In doing so, we hold the opinions of people to be higher than God’s. We commit the same type of idolatry we find rampant in the OT.
In many communities, traditions can carry the heavy weight of religiosity, as if God were the very author of the tradition. Many of the Pharisees in Jesus’ time were known to “tie up heavy burdens and put them on people’s shoulders” (Matt 23:4). When the Pharisees confront Jesus because His disciples did not wash before eating, Jesus quotes from Isaiah: “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines the commandments of men” (Mark 7:6–7).
To us, hand-washing seems like a smart, valuable tradition. For these Pharisees, it is a cleansing ritual meant to protect against defilement. Jesus shows how the practice sharply conflicts with the state of their hearts, which are far from God. The Pharisees often excuse some of God’s commands if it means following their traditions—like offering sacrifices while neglecting to provide for the material needs of parents (Mark 7:11–13).
Are there areas in your life in which you hold others’ opinions above those of God? Do you have nagging guilt because you’re not living up to others’ expectations? Why? Examine your life, seek biblical wisdom, and ask God to show you how best to serve Him.
How are you holding the values of people higher than those of God?
REBECCA VAN NOORD
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Traditions make us feel secure. They give us a sense of camaraderie with those who came before us, and they can build a sense of community with those around us. But traditions handed down unexamined can be dangerous. We can apply them in contexts that differ from those in which they were born—often leading to disastrous results, offenses, and misunderstanding. More dangerously, we might consider these human traditions to be the commands of God—or above His commands. In doing so, we hold the opinions of people to be higher than God’s. We commit the same type of idolatry we find rampant in the OT.
In many communities, traditions can carry the heavy weight of religiosity, as if God were the very author of the tradition. Many of the Pharisees in Jesus’ time were known to “tie up heavy burdens and put them on people’s shoulders” (Matt 23:4). When the Pharisees confront Jesus because His disciples did not wash before eating, Jesus quotes from Isaiah: “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines the commandments of men” (Mark 7:6–7).
To us, hand-washing seems like a smart, valuable tradition. For these Pharisees, it is a cleansing ritual meant to protect against defilement. Jesus shows how the practice sharply conflicts with the state of their hearts, which are far from God. The Pharisees often excuse some of God’s commands if it means following their traditions—like offering sacrifices while neglecting to provide for the material needs of parents (Mark 7:11–13).
Are there areas in your life in which you hold others’ opinions above those of God? Do you have nagging guilt because you’re not living up to others’ expectations? Why? Examine your life, seek biblical wisdom, and ask God to show you how best to serve Him.
How are you holding the values of people higher than those of God?
REBECCA VAN NOORD
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Saturday, November 5, 2016
OF FIELDS AND TEMPLES
1 Kings 7:1–51; Mark 4:26–5:20; Proverbs 1:28–33
The building of Solomon’s temple and the growth of the kingdom of God are similar: Both require extensive labor. Both bring miraculous results. And in both efforts, the dredging and toil can proceed for weeks, months, or years before the fruits of the labor become apparent.
When the Bible describes the building of God’s temple, it mentions features and materials that would have been incredible at the time: “He built the House of the Forest of Lebanon … It was covered with cedar above … There were three rows of specially designed windows … All of the doorways and the doorframes had four-sided casings” (1 Kgs 7:2–5). Consider the logistical, expediting, and procurement hurdles that Solomon must have faced. How could one leader build a project that required the finest materials and the most highly skilled craftsmen from all over the known world, all in his lifetime? That it was completed is nearly miraculous. Even today, major architectural feats often take longer than a lifetime (e.g., Gaudi’s cathedral in Barcelona).
Like the construction of Solomon’s temple, what we as Christians build into other people’s lives is meant to happen miraculously. We labor for it, but the fruits are not ours—they are often unexplainable. Jesus once remarked, “The kingdom of God is like this: like a man scatters seed on the ground. And he sleeps and gets up, night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows—he does not know how. By itself the soil produces a crop: first the grass, then the head of grain, then the full grain in the head. But when the crop permits, he sends in the sickle [a tool for harvesting crops] right away, because the harvest has come” (Mark 4:26–29). We must continue to labor, knowing all the while that the results will be different than what we expect. We must rely on the Spirit for the real work.
What are you laboring at today? How may the results be different than what you expect?
JOHN D. BARRY
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
The building of Solomon’s temple and the growth of the kingdom of God are similar: Both require extensive labor. Both bring miraculous results. And in both efforts, the dredging and toil can proceed for weeks, months, or years before the fruits of the labor become apparent.
When the Bible describes the building of God’s temple, it mentions features and materials that would have been incredible at the time: “He built the House of the Forest of Lebanon … It was covered with cedar above … There were three rows of specially designed windows … All of the doorways and the doorframes had four-sided casings” (1 Kgs 7:2–5). Consider the logistical, expediting, and procurement hurdles that Solomon must have faced. How could one leader build a project that required the finest materials and the most highly skilled craftsmen from all over the known world, all in his lifetime? That it was completed is nearly miraculous. Even today, major architectural feats often take longer than a lifetime (e.g., Gaudi’s cathedral in Barcelona).
Like the construction of Solomon’s temple, what we as Christians build into other people’s lives is meant to happen miraculously. We labor for it, but the fruits are not ours—they are often unexplainable. Jesus once remarked, “The kingdom of God is like this: like a man scatters seed on the ground. And he sleeps and gets up, night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows—he does not know how. By itself the soil produces a crop: first the grass, then the head of grain, then the full grain in the head. But when the crop permits, he sends in the sickle [a tool for harvesting crops] right away, because the harvest has come” (Mark 4:26–29). We must continue to labor, knowing all the while that the results will be different than what we expect. We must rely on the Spirit for the real work.
What are you laboring at today? How may the results be different than what you expect?
JOHN D. BARRY
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Friday, November 4, 2016
CUTTING A DEAL WITH GOD
1 Kings 5:1–6:38; Mark 4:1–24; Proverbs 1:20–27
Sometimes we think we can make deals with God. We hear His commands, but we plan on being faithful later. Or we make light of our rebellious thoughts and actions, thinking they’re only minor offenses in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps we think God will overlook them just as easily as we’ve rationalized them.
Jesus put special emphasis on “having ears to hear” in the Gospel of Mark. He expected much more than a captive audience, though: “ ‘If anyone has ears to hear, let him hear!’ And he said to them, ‘Take care what you hear! With the measure by which you measure out, it will be measured out to you, and will be added to you’ ” (Mark 4:23–24).
Jesus issued this command shortly after giving His disciples special insight into the parable of the Sower and the Seed. The rocky soil, the thorns, the road, the good soil—these represented various responses to the good news. The good soil was receptive to the seeds. But more than that, such soils “receive it and bear fruit—one thirty and one sixty and one a hundred times as much” (Mark 4:20).
Jesus revealed the secret of the kingdom to His disciples, to the surrounding crowd, and to us. Now that we hear, we must take care that we respond. Bear fruit befitting His work in you (Mark 4:20), and let others know why you bear fruit (Mark 4:21–22). Because He has given to you with such abundance, He expects you to live abundantly for Him—right now.
How are you rationalizing your response to God’s work? Are you delaying responding to God?
REBECCA VAN NOORD
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Sometimes we think we can make deals with God. We hear His commands, but we plan on being faithful later. Or we make light of our rebellious thoughts and actions, thinking they’re only minor offenses in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps we think God will overlook them just as easily as we’ve rationalized them.
Jesus put special emphasis on “having ears to hear” in the Gospel of Mark. He expected much more than a captive audience, though: “ ‘If anyone has ears to hear, let him hear!’ And he said to them, ‘Take care what you hear! With the measure by which you measure out, it will be measured out to you, and will be added to you’ ” (Mark 4:23–24).
Jesus issued this command shortly after giving His disciples special insight into the parable of the Sower and the Seed. The rocky soil, the thorns, the road, the good soil—these represented various responses to the good news. The good soil was receptive to the seeds. But more than that, such soils “receive it and bear fruit—one thirty and one sixty and one a hundred times as much” (Mark 4:20).
Jesus revealed the secret of the kingdom to His disciples, to the surrounding crowd, and to us. Now that we hear, we must take care that we respond. Bear fruit befitting His work in you (Mark 4:20), and let others know why you bear fruit (Mark 4:21–22). Because He has given to you with such abundance, He expects you to live abundantly for Him—right now.
How are you rationalizing your response to God’s work? Are you delaying responding to God?
REBECCA VAN NOORD
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Thursday, November 3, 2016
LOVE AND COMMITMENT: NOT ALWAYS SYNONYMOUS
1 Kings 3:1–4:34; Mark 3:1–3:35; Proverbs 1:13–19
Loving God and living fully for Him are not necessarily synonymous. If I love someone, does that mean I always show untainted respect and unfailing loyalty? Love should command complete devotion and commitment—but our lives are rarely as pure as they should be.
Like his father, David, Solomon acted out of passion and love, but his commitment and respect for Yahweh faltered at the same time: “Solomon intermarried with … the daughter of Pharaoh and brought her to the city of David … Solomon loved Yahweh, by walking in the statutes of David his father; only he was sacrificing and offering incense on the high places” (1 Kgs 3:1, 3).
Solomon didn’t marry Pharaoh’s daughter because he needed Egypt’s protection. Egypt, Israel’s ancient enemy, had enslaved God’s people once before, but it was not an imminent threat. Worse, Solomon committed himself to Pharaoh, an ally who viewed himself as a deity. This alliance introduced the worship of foreign gods into the chambers of the king who was supposed to steward God’s kingdom.
Solomon’s behavior is particularly ironic in light of his own words: “My child, do not walk in their way. Keep your foot from their paths, for their feet run to evil, and they hurry to shed blood” (Prov 1:15–16). Solomon may have avoided the wars and violence of his father’s generation, but he walked into a spiritually enslaving sin. Solomon’s problems epitomize Jesus’ words: “And if a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom is not able to stand” (Mark 3:24). By bringing Pharaoh’s daughter into his household, Solomon divided Yahweh’s kingdom against itself.
Was it lust that drove Solomon to make this decision, or a lack of faith, or a desire for peace? We cannot know for certain, but no matter the reason, this episode shows us something about ourselves. When we ally ourselves with God’s opponents or when we lust after what God has condemned, we do more harm than we realize. We divide what God is building in us and through us against itself by tainting His pure plan.
What are you wrongly allying with or lusting after? What are the long-term effects of doing so, and how can this perspective help you change course?
JOHN D. BARRY
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Loving God and living fully for Him are not necessarily synonymous. If I love someone, does that mean I always show untainted respect and unfailing loyalty? Love should command complete devotion and commitment—but our lives are rarely as pure as they should be.
Like his father, David, Solomon acted out of passion and love, but his commitment and respect for Yahweh faltered at the same time: “Solomon intermarried with … the daughter of Pharaoh and brought her to the city of David … Solomon loved Yahweh, by walking in the statutes of David his father; only he was sacrificing and offering incense on the high places” (1 Kgs 3:1, 3).
Solomon didn’t marry Pharaoh’s daughter because he needed Egypt’s protection. Egypt, Israel’s ancient enemy, had enslaved God’s people once before, but it was not an imminent threat. Worse, Solomon committed himself to Pharaoh, an ally who viewed himself as a deity. This alliance introduced the worship of foreign gods into the chambers of the king who was supposed to steward God’s kingdom.
Solomon’s behavior is particularly ironic in light of his own words: “My child, do not walk in their way. Keep your foot from their paths, for their feet run to evil, and they hurry to shed blood” (Prov 1:15–16). Solomon may have avoided the wars and violence of his father’s generation, but he walked into a spiritually enslaving sin. Solomon’s problems epitomize Jesus’ words: “And if a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom is not able to stand” (Mark 3:24). By bringing Pharaoh’s daughter into his household, Solomon divided Yahweh’s kingdom against itself.
Was it lust that drove Solomon to make this decision, or a lack of faith, or a desire for peace? We cannot know for certain, but no matter the reason, this episode shows us something about ourselves. When we ally ourselves with God’s opponents or when we lust after what God has condemned, we do more harm than we realize. We divide what God is building in us and through us against itself by tainting His pure plan.
What are you wrongly allying with or lusting after? What are the long-term effects of doing so, and how can this perspective help you change course?
JOHN D. BARRY
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Wednesday, November 2, 2016
WILL WE FOLLOW
1 Kings 2:1–46; Mark 1:35–2:28; Proverbs 1:8–12
The Gospel of Mark opens without fanfare—certainly nothing befitting literary greatness. There is no lofty imagery like the Gospel of John, no impressive genealogies like the Gospel of Matthew, and no historical narrative like the Gospel of Luke. Instead, Mark flashes rapidly through events that build on one another. John the Baptist’s prophecy is followed by short summaries of Jesus’ baptism and His temptation by Satan. After calling His first disciples, Jesus begins healing and preaching both near and far—all within the first chapter. The unadorned, clipped prose communicates something urgent.
Mark’s narrative captures the coming kingdom that will erupt with a power only some can see. It imparts a sense of urgency to those who know they are needy.
Mark portrays the advancing kingdom through the person and work of Jesus, who draws people. The crowds at Capernaum seek Him out (Mark 2:2), as do those marginalized by society (Mark 1:40; 2:3). Although Jesus seeks to keep His movements hidden and warns the leper to conceal the miracle of his healing, the exact opposite occurs. The leper opts to “proclaim it freely and to spread abroad the account” (Mark 1:45). When Jesus secludes Himself in deserted places because of His fame, the crowds come at Him “from all directions” (Mark 1:45). Even roofs are removed to gain access to Him (Mark 2:4).
While some question His authority, others respond with radical allegiance. Jesus’ simple, direct call to Levi the tax collector, “Follow me!” requires nothing less. Jesus came for lepers and paralytics, to sinners and tax collectors—those who are sick and in need of a physician (Mark 2:16). He came for us—those who know our desperate need—and reversed our fate. With unfettered truth, Mark presents us with the opportunity for the only healing response: Will we follow?
Are you following Jesus with total allegiance? What is holding you back?
REBECCA VAN NOORD
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
The Gospel of Mark opens without fanfare—certainly nothing befitting literary greatness. There is no lofty imagery like the Gospel of John, no impressive genealogies like the Gospel of Matthew, and no historical narrative like the Gospel of Luke. Instead, Mark flashes rapidly through events that build on one another. John the Baptist’s prophecy is followed by short summaries of Jesus’ baptism and His temptation by Satan. After calling His first disciples, Jesus begins healing and preaching both near and far—all within the first chapter. The unadorned, clipped prose communicates something urgent.
Mark’s narrative captures the coming kingdom that will erupt with a power only some can see. It imparts a sense of urgency to those who know they are needy.
Mark portrays the advancing kingdom through the person and work of Jesus, who draws people. The crowds at Capernaum seek Him out (Mark 2:2), as do those marginalized by society (Mark 1:40; 2:3). Although Jesus seeks to keep His movements hidden and warns the leper to conceal the miracle of his healing, the exact opposite occurs. The leper opts to “proclaim it freely and to spread abroad the account” (Mark 1:45). When Jesus secludes Himself in deserted places because of His fame, the crowds come at Him “from all directions” (Mark 1:45). Even roofs are removed to gain access to Him (Mark 2:4).
While some question His authority, others respond with radical allegiance. Jesus’ simple, direct call to Levi the tax collector, “Follow me!” requires nothing less. Jesus came for lepers and paralytics, to sinners and tax collectors—those who are sick and in need of a physician (Mark 2:16). He came for us—those who know our desperate need—and reversed our fate. With unfettered truth, Mark presents us with the opportunity for the only healing response: Will we follow?
Are you following Jesus with total allegiance? What is holding you back?
REBECCA VAN NOORD
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
Tuesday, November 1, 2016
THE DANGER OF UNWARRANTED FAVOR
1 Kings 1:1–53; Mark 1:1–34; Proverbs 1:1–7
No sooner had David assumed the throne of Israel than he began to lose sight of God’s way. As a young “warrior in the wilderness,” he had provided a beacon of hope and an ethical example for God’s people. But King David allowed emotion, rather than spiritual or even rational principles, to drive him. And David’s children made the situation even worse. Although we often look to David as an example to emulate, we can also learn from the mistakes that he made, including the disaster recorded in 1 Kgs 1:5–53.
As king, David was charged with protecting God’s people against all outside enemies. What David didn’t see coming—or so it appears from the text—was the threat from within his own family. When David’s sons began to compete for power, David should have put his love for God’s people and the calling God gave him above his love for his sons. The moment that Adonijah showed signs of laying claim to the throne (1 Kgs 1:5–10), David should have rebuked him—or perhaps even imprisoned or executed him, according to law of the time. Instead, David let it go.
Appointing Solomon as king was a wise political rebuttal, but David still failed to deal with the core problem—Adonijah. David may have been old and sick by this point, but he could have made better provisions for his kingdom, especially with so many loyal military leaders on his side. David’s position as king made his leniency even worse: He should have treated Adonijah like any other traitor.
Why did David ignore Adonijah’s rebellion? Maybe he loved his son. Maybe he was too tired or too frail to take on big problems at the end of his reign. We may never know the reason, but we do know the results. David’s weakness nearly ruined all he had built for God; his mistakes nearly tore the kingdom in two.
Parents often love their children so deeply that they overlook their failings. Righteousness should maintain its proper authority over wishful thinking and ungoverned emotions—in both kingdoms and households.
Who are you unreasonably favoring?
JOHN D. BARRY
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
No sooner had David assumed the throne of Israel than he began to lose sight of God’s way. As a young “warrior in the wilderness,” he had provided a beacon of hope and an ethical example for God’s people. But King David allowed emotion, rather than spiritual or even rational principles, to drive him. And David’s children made the situation even worse. Although we often look to David as an example to emulate, we can also learn from the mistakes that he made, including the disaster recorded in 1 Kgs 1:5–53.
As king, David was charged with protecting God’s people against all outside enemies. What David didn’t see coming—or so it appears from the text—was the threat from within his own family. When David’s sons began to compete for power, David should have put his love for God’s people and the calling God gave him above his love for his sons. The moment that Adonijah showed signs of laying claim to the throne (1 Kgs 1:5–10), David should have rebuked him—or perhaps even imprisoned or executed him, according to law of the time. Instead, David let it go.
Appointing Solomon as king was a wise political rebuttal, but David still failed to deal with the core problem—Adonijah. David may have been old and sick by this point, but he could have made better provisions for his kingdom, especially with so many loyal military leaders on his side. David’s position as king made his leniency even worse: He should have treated Adonijah like any other traitor.
Why did David ignore Adonijah’s rebellion? Maybe he loved his son. Maybe he was too tired or too frail to take on big problems at the end of his reign. We may never know the reason, but we do know the results. David’s weakness nearly ruined all he had built for God; his mistakes nearly tore the kingdom in two.
Parents often love their children so deeply that they overlook their failings. Righteousness should maintain its proper authority over wishful thinking and ungoverned emotions—in both kingdoms and households.
Who are you unreasonably favoring?
JOHN D. BARRY
John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).
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