From Luke 21: Alarmed

“When you hear of wars and rebellions, don’t be alarmed. Indeed, it is necessary that these things take place first, but the end won’t come right away.” (v. 9)

How alarmed are you?

Let’s face it: There are more than a few wars and rumors of wars. There are more than a few political conflicts and contested elections. There are cultural and moral battlegrounds aplenty. And we’ve got crises of every flavor, whether climatological or ecological or economical.

How alarmed are you?

I’ve known way too many Christians who see all of that, who pray, “Come Lord Jesus”…

…and who rush to buy bullets, batteries, and bottled water.

We retreat to our basements, turn on cable news, and while away the hours worrying our way into the Kingdom.

Yet the Lord says do not be alarmed! These are signs of an end that is not yet here (and which you cannot predict).

What if we, then, turned our energy and our resources and our hearts toward the actual issue—which is the evangelism? What if we counted the signs of the not-yet-end as our signal to go, to give, and to love with the Gospel?

What if we weren’t alarmed, but were instead assured that He still is, and that He still sends us?

— Tyler

From Luke 20: Caesars

“Well then,” he told them, “give to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” (v. 25)

Caesar can have some stuff.

He can have his taxes. He can have our civil obedience, when he is just. He can have respect.

He can have the things that are his, on the earth.

But he can’t have the things that last. The things that matter. The things that are God’s.

We, in our short-sightedness, get this wrong sometimes. We complain about taxes and laws and governors, sure, but we’re also really quick to give our hearts to preferred politicians. Instead of categorizing them as Caesars—instead of counting them all as things that won’t last—we slide into steeper pledges and deeper devotion…and we give them the parts of us that ought to be God’s and only God’s.

Give the government what is required, and what it can rightly claim. But your heart, your passion, and your fidelity ought to be His.

— Tyler

From Luke 19: The Rocks

“Some of the Pharisees from the crowd told him, ‘Teacher, rebuke your disciples.’ He answered, ‘I tell you, if they were to keep silent, the stones would cry out.’” (vv. 39-40)

Consider your testimony.

Consider your confession of Christ, your worship, and your praise—both public and private. Consider the volume, frequency, and clarity you afford as a witness of the Worthy One.

Then ask the question:

“Are the rocks saying more?”

The stones do indeed have a testimony. They reveal the majesty of creation. They have persisted through the ages. They have seen a lot. It’s just that theirs is a private faith, their religion a personal matter, if you take my meaning.

And every time you mute your worship and your confession and your testimony—every time you keep it to yourself—you stand with the rocks.

The thing is, Jesus promises that the rocks will cry out if His disciples don’t. We’ll be shown up, in the end.

So consider your testimony—and maybe consider saying more than the rocks do.

— Tyler

From Luke 18: Answer the Question

“‘What do you want me to do for you?’ ‘Lord,’ he said, ‘I want to see.’” (v. 41)

Do you have an answer?

I think we miss the magnitude of this moment: Jesus, when passing through Jericho, hears the cry of the blind man. The man calls out to Him with faith, confessing Jesus as the promised Son of David. Jesus stops.

And He asks the question: “What do you want me to do for you?”

Do you have an answer?

The blind man certainly does: “I want to see.” The need is known, apparent, urgent.

But what about you?

A lot of us walk around like we don’t actually need much from Jesus. We act like our lives are basically put-together, and that we really only need little enhancements from heaven. We pray small prayers with proportionate hopes. We don’t want to bother Jesus.

But He asks the question!

Take time today to think about your answer. Imagine Him there, in front of you, faithful to hear your need. And tell Him! Trust Him! By the purest grace, the blind man’s invitation is ours, too.

— Tyler

From Luke 17: We’re good at the first part

“Be on your guard. If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him. And if he sins against you seven times in a day, and comes back to you seven times, saying, ‘I repent,’ you must forgive him.” (vv. 3-4)

We’re good at the first part:

“If your brother sins, rebuke him….”

Churches and church people have been successful judging sinners and cutting them off for generations. We’ve read the Bible. We know where the lines are. And we stand ready to wag our fingers and close our doors.

That would be a really impressive display of biblical religion…

…if it weren’t for the rest of Jesus’ instruction.

Sin reaps a rebuke, yes, but repentance demands forgiveness.

The Jesus Way is radical. It requires grace. It doesn’t ask you to forgive if you think the other deserves it; it simply commands you to forgive the repentant. It makes us—you and me and the church—the earthly representation of heaven’s mercies. And it does so, with a view to repetition and and persistence and practice.

Yes, there are times when the nature of transgression forces you to put up boundaries. That’s reaping and sowing. But the boundary lines in your heart, when you consider their repentance, still need grace-afforded soft spots.

We’re good at the first part, the rebuke part.

How are we measuring up in forgiveness?

— Tyler

From Luke 16: Jealous?

“Whoever is faithful in very little is also faithful in much, and whoever is unrighteous in very little is also unrighteous in much. So if you have not been faithful with worldly wealth, who will trust you with what is genuine?” (vv. 10-11)

Sometimes I have to be honest with myself about envy, about jealousy.

I see the guys who, over a lifetime of faithfulness, have been entrusted with more and more. My every suspicion is that that trust is God’s will for God’s Kingdom for God’s glory. But I wonder what it takes to be one of those guys, too, and why it is that they steward so much that it looks like freedom.

Then I read the Bible.

And, in the Bible, I’m reminded: Every God-given increase follows a God-honoring stewardship. If I’m ever frustrated because of what I don’t have, I should probably be more critical of how I used what I did have. It’s not transactional—God isn’t required to give us anything, least of all based on our behavior, which is always suspect—but it is logical.

God trusts the trustworthy.

So, then, if I would hope to manage for God some something that seems abundant…I’d better manage whatever He has already given into my hands well.

(And, even if He chooses never to give the earthly increase, I already have everything in Christ.)

— Tyler

From Luke 15: The Party

“I tell you, in the same way, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who don’t need repentance.” (v. 7)

Let’s talk about when NOT to have a party:

In religious life, there’s a lot to enjoy. We enjoy a growing fellowship. We enjoy increasing generosity in the church. We enjoy deeper discipleship and devotion together. We certainly enjoy high attendance and new members.

But none of those signal “party time” in the Kingdom. They’re good, but heaven isn’t rejoicing just because religious people get more religious.

So let’s talk about the “when” and “why” for heaven’s party:

It’s when the lost are found. It’s when one wanderer repents and returns. When the one who strayed is rescued by the Shepherd, heaven rejoices—and the church ought to join the celebration!

I’m all for deeper and fuller life among believers. But don’t forget to pray for—and party about—heaven’s joy.

— Tyler

From Luke 14: The Cost

“If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters — yes, and even his own life — he cannot be my disciple.” (v. 26)

It’s a striking equation:

Jesus, in expounding the radical cost of following Him, says, “Unless you hate your own family, you cannot be my disciple.”

We think, “How could that be? Our families are gifts! We are bound to love them. How could we hate them?”

The answer, it seems, is this: If your love for Jesus is anything less that total—if your commitment to Him is qualified by questions about the cost—then it’s not the love of a disciple. Comparatively, our love for Him ought to make every other love look small—and it ought to compel the kind of allegiance that prizes faithfulness even over family.

That’s a steep calling.

How does it make you feel?

— Tyler

From Luke 13: What It’s Like

“He said, therefore, ‘What is the kingdom of God like, and what can I compare it to?’” (v. 18)

What is the kingdom of God like? This things that the prophet and the Lord both assured us is here, breaking in?

Jesus tells us it’s like a mustard seed: sown, grown, and flourishing for good.

And Jesus tells us it’s like yeast: worked in, worked through, and working.

The kingdom of God is in the small things. But they don’t stay small. Our little faithfulnesses—our love and our devotion and our purity and our charity—grow, when they are diligently worked into and worked out through our lives. Your personal followership flowers, beautifying the earth while harboring the wandering. It multiplies, raising up what is good to afford an abundance.

The kingdom is glimpsed in the smallest seed and the tiniest leaven—in you—applied for His glory.

— Tyler

From Luke 12: Stop Worrying!

“Can any of you add one moment to his life span by worrying?” (v. 25)

Here’s a worthwhile rubric for your life:

How many times has worry affected the outcome?

Think about all the things you’ve worried about: the bill that’s due, the medical diagnosis, the way your kids might turn out. Your home and your things and your accounts. That overdue conversation.

Think back through the worried-over things, and ask the question: “Did the worrying make any difference?”

Jesus’ word for us here isn’t just a proscription against worry. It’s a prescription for faith: faith in Him, faith in His Father’s goodness, faith in His care. Not every outcome will be what we might have wanted, but it is all ultimately filed under His promises and His purposes, meaning we are not forsaken and not abandoned.

Worry robs us out from under Him, as if the worrying act might accomplish something He won’t. It comes to nothing! And you’ve already got the evidence of it in your own lived days.

So stop worrying yourself onto a throne that doesn’t exist—and trust the Sovereign who cares for you.

— Tyler

From Luke 11: Pray Like This

“So I say to you, ask, and it will be given to you. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” (vv. 9-10)

Pray.

Pray to your Father, who loves you.

Pray for His provision, and for His mercies, and for His protection.

Pray with shameless boldness.

Pray, and keep on asking and seeking and knocking, because the God who loves you answers—with good things, and with His own presence in your life.

Pray!

That’s Jesus’ message.

I’ll be honest: I don’t pray like this. Not always. But I am listening, and I am learning—and, today, I am praying.

Won’t you pray, too?

— Tyler

From Luke 10: The Answer to Your Prayer

“He told them, “The harvest is abundant, but the workers are few. Therefore, pray to the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into his harvest. Now go; I’m sending you out like lambs among wolves.” (vv. 2-3)

I have some challenging news for you:

You are the answer to your prayer—to this specific prayer.

We have prayed it alongside Jesus for forever: “Lord, send workers into your harvest, so that those who haven’t heard will hear—and be saved!” It’s the right prayer. He told us to pray it. And it has been relevant in every “field” you and I have ever known.

So we pray!

But we have to keep reading.

Because the next thing Jesus says to His followers is, “Now go.”

The answer to the prayer is the people who pray it. The workers He sends are the ones who are standing with Him. The harvest we hope for is in the field we’re called to. So we pray for harvest laborers…

…and we go.

Or, at least, that’s how it’s supposed to go.

Is anyone else troubled that the workers remain few in number?

— Tyler

From Luke 9: Inconvenience

“When the apostles returned, they reported to Jesus all that they had done. He took them along and withdrew privately to a town called Bethsaida. When the crowds found out, they followed him. He welcomed them, spoke to them about the kingdom of God, and healed those who needed healing.” (vv. 10-11)

Funny thing about ministry:

It’s never convenient.

The needy arrive at just the wrong time. The offering is gathered when you don’t seem to have much. The knock on the door, the phone call, and the GoFundMe all happen at low tide.

We would rather ride those moments out with comfortable religion. We would rather stay with Jesus in the quiet place, praying and worshiping and receiving. We would rather have what the disciples would rather have: after a season of serving, some respite.

Yet the inconvenient crowd calls.

Will you remain open to serving still? To giving what you’ve got, even when you don’t think it’s much? Will you genuinely desire closeness with your Lord—the Lord who viewed the inconvenient crowd with compassion?

Ministry is hardly ever convenient.

It seems, however, that that’s no excuse.

— Tyler

From Luke 8: Among Thorns

“As for the seed that fell among thorns, these are the ones who, when they have heard, go on their way and are choked with worries, riches, and pleasures of life, and produce no mature fruit.” (v. 14)

That’s me.

I’m the third one.

I would rather be the fourth one, though: the good ground, the fruitful yield, the picture of Jesus’ flourishing kingdom.

But, more often, I’m the third one. Growing among thorns.

This is the humbling reality of the Word in our world. You and I, by grace, have every opportunity to hear it and embrace it and grow in—but the ground of our lives puts it in competition. We have worries. We have wants. For all the good that could grow in us, we keep watering the weeds instead. I get so distracted by money and property—I get so entangled in the fear of missing out—that Jesus’ kingdom fruit becomes hard to see.

The good news is that I am still listening, still weeding, still growing.

How about you?

— Tyler

From Luke 7: Extravagant Worship

“Therefore I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven; that’s why she loved much. But the one who is forgiven little, loves little.” (v. 47)

Have you noticed how much pleading goes on in church?

Someone in the front of the room pleads with you to show up. To give. To serve. To go, and go further. Someone is there, urging religious people to do religious things, for the glory of Christ in and through the church.

It’s an uphill battle.

Please hear me: I’m not making a defense for every churchy thing, nor am I counting religious participation as the sole indicator of faith and faithfulness. What I am saying is this: When a church is full of people who are keenly aware of their sin and of Christ’s forgiveness, they don’t often have to be convinced of much.

Forgiven people love extravagantly. They pour out their lives at the feet of their Savior. They might not be as practiced or put-together as seemingly righteous—and they don’t care. They give and they go, so that the Gospel that reached them might reach others.

Imagine if your church was filled with grateful, grace-filled worshipers! And imagine if you were one of them….

— Tyler

From Luke 6: The Heart of Christlikeness

”During those days he went out to the mountain to pray and spent all night in prayer to God.” (v. 12)

So…

…Jesus begins conducting a controversial ministry. And He undertakes the task of selecting His leadership team. All on the way to unfolding His inaugural Kingdom message and a radically reconsidered ethic.

That’s…a lot.

Does it surprise us, then, that in and through all of that we find Jesus praying?

The Son of God—the Word made flesh, who came to us for us, to do these very things—prayed and prayed and prayed. He went away. He prayed through the night. His busyness didn’t keep Him from prayer; it kept Him in prayer!

Before you charge ahead—before you decide or you serve or you speak—pray. This is the heart of Christlikeness.

— Tyler

From Luke 5: Left Behind

”Then they brought the boats to land, left everything, and followed him.“ (v. 11)

Be honest:

Does your life look like a “left everything” life?

Mine doesn’t. I have heard the Master’s voice. I have responded with faith and repented of sin. I have sought to worship Him and serve Him and proclaim Him.

And I’ve dragged a lot of my own comforts, preferences, and property along for the ride.

The example of the first disciples is, in fact, radical. It is also unequivocal: When they left everything, they left everything, including the only career they’d ever known (and the means by which they did it). Is that always the kind of calling the Lord gives us? No. But we ought to be sensitive to the sorts of sacrifice that ARE asked of us—and we ought to live lives where the right things have been left behind.

So lay down your comforts. Lay down your life plan. Lay down the jobs and the places that you chose. And listen. Jesus is still calling.

— Tyler

From Luke 4: A Lot Less

”And Jesus answered him, ‘It is written: Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’” (v. 8)

I’ll be honest:

I have been shown a lot less. I have been promised what is really very little. I have had my own eyes drawn to relatively insignificant measures of prominence and property and power.

And I’ve fallen for it.

While each of the temptations set before Jesus are relevant, it is the second lure that speaks to me today. Jesus was shown—not just some, but—ALL the prominence and property and power in the earth. And, when the critical moment comes, He chooses—and He shows all of us forever—what is better. He chooses to worship and serve His Father, the LORD.

Let’s listen to Him, and let’s learn from His example. This same Jesus would go on to promise that, if we seek first the kingdom of heaven, all of the things we worry over would be ours in addition. Trust that, and turn from the temptation.

— Tyler

From Luke 3: The Matter

”He went into all the vicinity of the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins….” (v. 3)

Don’t lose sight of what, in fact, is the actual matter:

We are sinners—in need of salvation, and called to repentance.

As the gospels unfold, we will witness the depth and breadth of the Good News. We will see Jesus healing and helping. We will learn from Him to love like Him. We will find ourselves swept up in the history of hope recorded here.

But do not miss the heart of the matter:

We are sinners—in need of salvation, and called to repentance.

Let the prophet’s voice lead you, as it led so many in his time. Straighten out the crookedness of your heart. Let your life reflect your turnaround from sin. Approach Christ in repentance.

That’s the first-things-first of the Gospel.

— Tyler

From Luke 2: Respond

”When the angels had left them and returned to heaven, the shepherds said to one another, ‘Let’s go straight to Bethlehem and see what has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.’” (v. 15)

Consider the example of the Christmas shepherds:

They experience the remarkable. They receive, by grace, the revelation of the Messiah’s birth. They see heaven’s army and hear heaven’s song. And it all points them to the One who has been born for them—and for all people.

How do they respond?

By immediately running to Him. By urgently determining to dive deeper into the truth they’d received. By dropping everything to draw nearer to Christ.

Their priorities change.

Now consider our own example:

We have seen and heard all of this, too, as their testimonies (and a host of others) has revealed Jesus to us. We have the truth of God’s Word. We have the record of history. We have the cloud of witnesses that affirms for us: lives and hearts are changed by this Messiah.

And how do we respond?

With occasional church-going, so long as it fits our schedules. With infrequent Bible reading, because it’s hard to fit that in. We simply embrace a slightly more religious life without making a big deal about it.

Our priorities…probably still look like the world’s priorities.

Let’s change that this year. Let’s run to Christ, and leave some stuff behind. Let’s follow the earliest example from the earliest hearers.

— Tyler