Charles R. Swindoll's Blog, page 10

Before you preach again on the birth of Jesus, it might be best for you to lay it aside and start from scratch.

The Christmas story has been so sanitized and romanticized over the centuries that even Hollywood—as jaded a culture as can be found anywhere—fails to capture the gritty pathos that surrounded Jesus’s arrival. Truth be told, even some churches annually idealize the birth of our Savior. Yet it was anything but ideal.

Without question, 6 BC was a lousy time to live in Judea. Herod the Great had seized the throne of Israel through bloody intrigue and with political support from Rome. Then, once in power, he guarded his stolen title, “King of the Jews,” so ruthlessly he even put his own sons to death when any of them posed a significant political threat. Macrobius, a fifth-century writer, recorded, “When [Caesar Augustus] heard that Herod king of the Jews had ordered boys in Syria under the age of two years to be put to death and that the king’s son was among those killed, he said, ‘I’d rather be Herod’s pig than Herod’s son!’”¹

Caesar’s comment illustrated the sad irony of Israel’s condition. Herod, though not really Jewish, pretended to be a pious religious Jew by eliminating pork from his diet, but he indulged an insatiable appetite for power. He built a magnificent temple for the God of Israel—an architectural wonder in its day—and gave its administration to one corrupt high priest after another. He taxed Jews through the temple in keeping with the Old Testament Law and then used the proceeds to break the first commandment, building cities and temples in honor of the emperor and his pantheon of Roman deities.

The larger Roman Empire—bounded on the west by the Atlantic . . . on the east by the Euphrates . . . on the north by the Rhine and Danube . . . and on the south by the Sahara Desert—was as vast as it was vicious. Political intrigue, racial tension, increased immorality, and enormous military might dominated everyone’s attention and conversation. Judea existed under the crush of Rome’s heavy boot. It was a time of unprecedented economic and political advancement for the rich and a time of horrific oppression for everyone else. By the first century BC, a dark cloud had settled over Israel, blocking any ray of hope.

The first Christmas, all eyes were on Augustus—the cynical Caesar who demanded a census to determine a measurement for increasing taxes even further. At that time, who was interested in a young couple making an 80-mile trip south from Nazareth? What could possibly be more important than Caesar’s decisions in Rome . . . or his puppet Herod’s edicts in Judea? Who cared about a Jewish baby born in a Bethlehem barn?

God did.

— Chuck

 

Endnotes

Macrobius, The Saturnalia, trans. Percival Vaughan Davies (New York: Columbia University Press, 1969), 171.

Someone once counted all the promises in the Bible and came up with an amazing figure of almost 7500. Among that large number are some specific promises servants can claim today.

I have discovered that there are times the only hope to keep you going will be in something God has declared in His Word, promising that your work is not in vain.

Isaiah 41:10 has often encouraged me:

“Do not fear, for I am with you;

Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you, surely I will help you,

Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.”

And a little further on, Isaiah writes:

But Zion said, “The LORD has forsaken me,

And the Lord has forgotten me.”

“Can a woman forget her nursing child

And have no compassion on the son of her womb?

Even these may forget, but I will not forget you.

Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands;

Your walls are continually before Me.” (Isaiah 49:14–16)

I call that fantastic! More faithful, more caring than a nursing mother, our God watches over and cares about us. We have frequently received counsel from Paul the apostle. Let’s look now at a few of the promises God led him to write. In 2 Corinthians 4:16–17 we read:

Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison.

And who can forget Philippians 4:19?

And my God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus.

Or his words of hope regarding a choice servant named Onesiphorus?

The Lord grant mercy to the house of Onesiphorus, for he often refreshed me and was not ashamed of my chains; but when he was in Rome, he eagerly searched for me and found me—the Lord grant to him to find mercy from the Lord on that day—and you know very well what services he rendered at Ephesus. (2 Timothy 1:16–18).

No. Our faithful God will never forget His own.

—Chuck

Scripture not only supports the idea of eternal rewards, it spells out the specifics. In 1 Corinthians 3:10–14, we find three primary facts about rewards. We’ll look at the first two today and complete the list next week.

Before I mention the facts, let’s review the verses:

According to the grace of God which was given to me, like a wise master builder I laid a foundation, and another is building on it. But each man must be careful how he builds on it. For no man can lay a foundation other than the one which is laid, which is Jesus Christ. Now if any man builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw, each man’s work will become evident; for the day will show it because it is to be revealed with fire, and the fire itself will test the quality of each man’s work. If any man’s work which he has built on it remains, he will receive a reward. (1 Corinthians 3:10–14)

First, most rewards are received in heaven, not on earth. Please don’t misunderstand. There are earthly rewards. Even the world provides certain people with special honors: the Pulitzer Prize, Nobel Peace Prize, Academy Awards, Emmy, Tony, Grammy—and we all know that athletes win All-American honors or All-Pro or the Heisman Trophy. The military also offers medals of bravery, like the Navy Cross, the Purple Heart, the Bronze Star, and the ultimate, the Medal of Honor.

But when it comes to servanthood, God reserves special honor for that yet future day when “each man’s work will become evident” (3:13) and “he will receive a reward” (3:14). Most of the rewards God’s servants will receive will be given after death, not before.

Second, all rewards are based on quality, not quantity. Did you notice this principle in those verses from 1 Corinthians? “The fire itself will test the quality of each man’s work” (3:13, emphasis added).

We humans are impressed with size and volume, noise and numbers.

It is easy to forget that God’s eye is always on motive, authenticity, the real truth beneath the surface, never the external splash or surface impressions.
When He rewards servants, it will always be based on quality—which means everybody has an equal opportunity to receive a reward.

The dear older lady who prays in private will be rewarded as much as the famous evangelist who preaches to multiple thousands. The quiet, faithful friend who assists another in need will be rewarded as much as the strong spiritual leader whose gifts are more visible. A cool cup of water given to a hurting soul, bruised with adversity, will be rewarded as much as any act of sacrifice on the mission field.

God, our faithful Lord, promises to reward the quality of our work.

The glory may be postponed until eternity, but it will come, which leads me into the third fact about rewards. Stay tuned. . . .

—Chuck

Based on 1 Corinthians 3:10–14, I see three facts about our eternal rewards for serving God. Let’s review the first two facts I mentioned last week, and then I’ll complete the list with the third.

First, most rewards are received in heaven, not on earth.

Second, all rewards are based on quality, not quantity.

Here’s the third: no reward that is postponed will be forgotten. Make no mistake about it, the Bible clearly teaches that each of us “will receive a reward” (1 Corinthians 3:14). God doesn’t settle His accounts at the end of every day. Nor does He close out His books toward the end of everyone’s life. No, not then.

But be assured, fellow servant, when that day in eternity dawns, when time shall be no more on this earth, no act of serving others (be it well-known or unknown) will be forgotten.

A nineteenth-century senator, Benjamin Hill, spoke with eloquence when he made this fitting tribute to General Robert E. Lee (a great man with a servant’s spirit):

He was a foe without hate, a friend without treachery, a soldier without cruelty, and a victim without murmuring. He was a public officer without vices, a private citizen without wrong, a neighbor without reproach, a Christian without hypocrisy, and a man without guilt. He was Caesar without his ambition, Frederick without his tyranny, Napoleon without his selfishness, and Washington without his reward.¹

And the marvelous part of it all is that you don’t have to be a Robert E. Lee to be remembered. You don’t have to be a courageous soldier in battle or a statesman who graciously accepts defeat. You can be a “nobody” in the eyes of this world, and your faithful God will, someday, reward your every act of servanthood. Rewards may be postponed, but they will not be forgotten forever.

Unlike many people today, God keeps all His promises.

—Chuck

 

Endnotes

John Bartlett, ed., Familiar Quotations (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1955), 660.

Sometimes it can be a challenge to give God daily praise, even when we possess the knowledge of His love and faithfulness. If you find yourself in this situation, the Psalms are often a great source to get you back on track.

Psalm 116 is an extraordinary expression of love—addressed to God. “How do I love Thee, God?” It reminds me of Browning’s poem: “Let me count the ways.” In counting the ways, the psalmist sets forth several magnificent truths about God's goodness and deliverance.

I love the LORD, because He hears

My voice and my supplications.

Because He has inclined His ear to me,

Therefore I shall call upon Him as long as I live.

The cords of death encompassed me

And the terrors of Sheol came upon me;

I found distress and sorrow.

Then I called upon the name of the LORD:

“O LORD, I beseech You, save my life!”

Gracious is the LORD, and righteous;

Yes, our God is compassionate.

The LORD preserves the simple;

I was brought low, and He saved me.

Return to your rest, O my soul,

For the LORD has dealt bountifully with you. (Psalm 116:1–7)

How do we love our God? We love Him by counting the many ways He has been good to us and, as the psalmist did, by sharing His goodness with others. What does God desire? Our humble thanks. Our heartfelt gratitude. He wants us to be hungry for life, to treasure every day He entrusts to us. When you have a quiet moment, read the entire 116th Psalm, and pause several times to express your own heart of gratitude to our loving Lord.

Let the wonder of the season wash over you again. God loves you and me with every bit of His heart, to the extent that He gave us the very best gift: life, wrapped up in the form of His one and only Son. It's this life—the abundant life—that Jesus promised. This is the true spirit of the season.

Let’s be humbly grateful.

—Chuck

It's baaaack!

The age-old yuletide season is about to slip in the door once again. Better not shout, better not pout, for the malls will be playing “Jingle Bells” several thousand times between now and December 25. If you're not careful, the crowds and commercialism will weigh you down like that fourth helping of stuffing at Thanksgiving dinner. And there's nothing worse than a jaded attitude that resists the true spirit of the season.

Although this has been a challenging year in numerous ways, we have a practical reason to look back over it with gratitude for God's protection and grace. This reflection sets in motion the ideal mental attitude to carry us through the weeks ahead. In other words, a sustained spirit of humble gratitude will make the period leading up to December 25 an integral part of the Christmas celebration rather than a dreadful marathon run toward the finish.

We live in a world fraught with evil—one in which innocent people are gunned down as they go about their business, where world governments seem powerless to stop those whose intent is to control through fear. But we cannot afford to end the year in frustration. I—like you—have seen and experienced God's hand of protection and mercy, even in the toughest moments.

During this holiday season, let's pledge not to let ingratitude become our creed or allow cynicism to cause a stumbling block. As we consistently remind our flocks (and ourselves) of God's provision in our lives and the lives of our loved ones, the holidays will become a special time of spiritual enrichment, personal renewal, and genuine gratitude.

—Chuck

Serving God by serving others definitely has rewards, and they are numerous. They far outweigh the consequences. When we think about them, they motivate us to keep going.

One of the great doctrines of Christianity is our firm belief in a heavenly home. Ultimately, we shall spend eternity with God in the place He has prepared for us. And part of that exciting anticipation is His promise to reward His servants for a job well done. I don’t know many believers in Jesus Christ who never think of being with their Lord in heaven, receiving His smile of acceptance, and hearing His “well done, good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:21 NIV). We even refer to one who died in this way: “He has gone home to his reward.”

A lot of strange opinions (some weird and wild ideas) surround this subject. But the Bible is fairly clear regarding the rewards of serving. First and foremost, we need to hear what it says.

I remember as a little boy in a South Texas Baptist church, singing the words:

I am thinking today of that beautiful land

I shall reach when the sun goeth down;

When through wonderful grace by my Saviour I stand,

Will there be any stars in my crown?

Will there be any stars, any stars in my crown

When at evening the sun goeth down?

When I wake with the blest in the mansions of rest,

Will there be any stars in my crown?

—Eliza E. Hewitt, “Will There Be Any Stars?”

I wondered about that. It seemed spooky, almost unreal. How could stars be in a crown I wore?

Many years later, I learned and loved another piece of church music. It came from an old volume of devotional verse bearing the title Immanuel’s Land and Other Pieces by A. R. C., the initials modestly representing the name of Anne R. Cousin. When she was only 32, the author composed her best-known hymn, “The Sands of Time Are Sinking.” The original poem contains nineteen verses. The concluding stanza will always be one of my favorites:

The bride eyes not her garment,

But her dear bridegroom’s face;

I will not gaze at glory,

But on my King of grace:

Not at the crown He giveth,

But on His pierced hand;

The Lamb is all the glory

Of Emmanuel’s land!¹

Both those old songs speak of heavenly crowns. They sound interesting, but what does the Bible say? Are they literal crowns? Does Scripture support the idea of tangible rewards?

We’ll begin to tackle that topic in three weeks, after Thanksgiving.

—Chuck

 

Endnotes

Richard H. Seume, comp. and ed., Hymns of Jublilee (Dallas: Dallas Theological Seminary, n.d.), 49.

I have found great help from two truths God gave me at a time in my life and ministry when I was bombarded with a series of unexpected and unfair blows (from my perspective). In my darkest hours, these principles became my anchor of stability, my only means of survival. Afflicted, confused, persecuted, and rejected in that situation, I claimed these two truths and held on to them. As wild waves, strong winds, and pounding rain in a sea of difficulty continued, I grabbed hold of the mast of God’s protective power. He took me through the storm of consequences and kept me from becoming a bitter man.

I have a couple of principles worth remembering. Because they worked for me as a pastor, I pass them on to you. At the risk of sounding simplistic, I would suggest that you not only write them down where you can read them often, but also that you commit them to memory. The day will come when you will be thankful you did, I assure you. They have scriptural support, but I’ll only list a couple of verses for the sake of brevity and clarity.

Here is the first truth to claim when enduring the consequences of suffering as a pastor: nothing touches me that has not passed through the hands of my heavenly Father. Nothing. Whatever occurs, God has sovereignly surveyed and approved (Job 2:3–6). We may not know why (we may never know why), but we do know our pain is no accident to Him who guides our lives. He is, in no way, surprised by it all. Before it ever touches us, it passes through Him.

The second truth to claim is this: everything I endure is designed to prepare me for serving others more effectively. Everything. Because my heavenly Father is committed to shaping me into the image of His Son, He knows the ultimate value of this painful experience (2 Corinthians 1:3–7). It is a necessary part of the preparation process. It is being used to empty our hands of our own resources, our own sufficiency, and turn us back to Him—the faithful Provider.

And God alone knows what will get through to us.

It’s hard for me to read Paul’s words without wincing:

Five times I received from the Jews thirty-nine lashes. Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, a night and a day I have spent in the deep.
(2 Corinthians 11:24–25)

Can you imagine being beaten and stoned? I cannot. Here is the awful reality of physical abuse. Few people will ever know such extreme pain. But if you think the man was pretty much alone in it all, get hold of a copy of Fox’s Book of Martyrs or read it online. There is no way to get around it; God’s servants often become scapegoats. Too frequently, this is what we pastors experience . . . even today.

This is true emotionally more frequently than physically. Humanity’s twisted depravity, for some reason, likes to express itself in this way. Take the prophet Daniel, for example. Faithful, efficient, honest, and absolutely dedicated, the man served others with a pure heart. But it backfired on him. According to the sixth chapter of the book that bears his name, the very people he worked with turned on him. They set out to prove he lacked integrity. They went on an extensive “witch hunt.” They left no stone unturned.

Can you imagine how that hurt? You are the object of suspicion that leads to an investigation. You hear whisperings about your character. Stories swirl around, calling into question your words, your actions. Every move you make is being watched by frowning critics. And yet there is not a shred of truth to it. You have been a model of authenticity. You have devoted yourself to the dual role of helping others and honoring the Lord. You’ve served Him faithfully . . . and this is the thanks you get.

It takes the grace of almighty God for us to press on under those circumstances and to accept His plan over our own. Press on!

Funny, we seldom think that a great
apostle like Paul ever suffered from insomnia, but he did. He couldn’t sleep sometimes
because of acute deprivations, like hunger, cold, and exposure . . . and
sometimes because of his concern for the many ministries to which he had given
himself. “Daily pressure,” he calls it. Read his own words:

I have been in labor and hardship,
through many sleepless nights, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in
cold and exposure. Apart from such external things, there is the daily pressure on me of concern for all the churches. (2 Corinthians 11:27–28)

Now that’s being under pressure. Sounds like the pastorate, huh?

Paul even mentioned the
disillusioning times of mistreatment and imprisonment (see 11:26). There
certainly must have been times he did not know where to turn—or to whom. Doubt
and questions might well have haunted him with maddening regularity.

Here was one of those great men,
“too good for this world,” being pushed around, threatened, and living on the
raw edge of constant danger. If you imagine yourself in those many situations
and toss in several imprisonments to boot—you can start to feel beaten down and
defeated. Your mind plays tricks on you. You wonder where God is. You may
occasionally even doubt God. You get disoriented, “mixed up” inside. And on top
of all that is the one most common experience all who have been in prison
admit—profound loneliness.

Mix all that together . . . and
you’ve got the picture.

Paul was normal, just like us.

—Chuck