Good morning. Grace and peace to you today.

There have been a few Kindle deals shared this week. You can browse and see them if you like. We’ll hope for more next week!
New Beginnings: On God’s Mercy and Grace
“The beginning of a new school year was always one of my favorite times. There was something exciting about seeing unopened textbooks and knowing that by the end of the year, I would have a thorough understanding of that new subject, or at least evidence that I gave it my best effort. It was a time of new beginnings, regardless of last year’s results.”
Jesus Holds Us Fast
Blake rejoices in the simple truth that Jesus holds us fast.
Light and Life for the Year to Come
Sarah Valentour: “This time of year, we make lists, picking our lives apart for small ways to improve. We seek ways to become the ‘best us’ we can be, searching for answers within ourselves. But as the world preaches the salvation of self-care, God calls his people to a life of holiness, emulating him, in order to become children of light.”
Winning Your Child’s Heart with Winsome Words
“Do we understand the impact of our words on our children? We utter words every day in all sorts of situations, often without intentionality. Sometimes, when we are using words to keep order and get things done, we lose sight of the power they possess.” Darby Strickland reminds us of the power of words to build up and tear down.
Blessed
“So there I was, feeling pretty sorry for myself, and arguing with the Lord. Things had not worked out like I thought they should. ‘Lord, You said that if I looked into your law and obeyed it, I would be blessed. This doesn’t feel much like a blessing.’ There it was in black and white, and yet I did not feel blessed in my doing.”
Flashback: Strength = Good, Weakness = Bad
Consider how God can and will work in you in the year ahead if only you will be weak. Make this the year where you will rejoice in weakness so you can rely on God’s strength.

Nothing should keep our minds busier on earth than this great reality: the Holy One of God was declared unholy, so that unholy sinners might stand unblemished before a holy God. —Mark Jones

May you enjoy the Lord’s rich blessings as you serve and worship him this weekend.

My gratitude goes to Burke Care for sponsoring the blog this week to invite you to schedule a session with their certified biblical counselors.
Today’s Kindle deals include some newer books and some older ones.
(Yesterday on the blog: My Top Books of 2022)
Was Jesus Really Born of a Virgin?
“For many people, the question of whether or not a virgin can give birth is in the same category as questions about whether or not pigs can fly or time can be reversed or the sun can be stopped from shining. But in each of these circumstances, we must remember that all it takes for these ‘supernatural’ events to be possible is for a ‘supernatural’ God to exist.” Guy Richard explains.
2023 Reading Challenge
Visual Theology has its annual reading challenge ready to go. (Click here for the poster.)
Annual Reading Challenge for Kids and Teens
And while we’re on the subject of reading challenges, Redeemer Reader also has theirs ready to go. It is designed for kids.
Silent Nights
“One December evening, while home alone eating dinner, I suddenly became aware of how quiet the house was. I hadn’t been by myself much for 25 years because I had four kids, a husband, and a dog to fill my home with noise and activity. But my kids were grown, my youngest was away at college, my husband was on a business trip, and our dog had recently passed away. And although I had experienced quiet moments before, this silence seemed different – louder and longer. It had a new quality I hadn’t sensed before – a permanence. It rattled me a little bit.”
The Church’s Ministries
If you’d like to do some good reading over the weekend, the new issue of the 9Marks Journal is available and it covers “The Church’s Ministries.”
Bell Curve of Life

This article reflects on those well-known words of Job: “Naked I was born from my mother’s womb and naked I will return.”

The longer you wait to confess, the more likely it becomes that you never will… Sin is a cancer—it must be rooted out as quickly as possible before it spreads. —Garrett Kell

One quiet evening many years ago, I was sitting on the screened-in porch of our old family cottage when I heard the music of bagpipes. Curious, I followed the sound, which me led as far as I could go, down to the shore of the lake.  Somewhere across the water, I could hear the piper playing. The evening was quiet and the lake was still, and the sound carried so well that I could hear every haunting note with perfect clarity. Though I could not see him, it was as if he was playing right beside me.

I sat for a time to listen, quietly singing along from time to time as he played songs that told of the great deeds of Scotland the Brave, songs that yearned for The Bonnie Banks o’ Loch Lomond and, inevitably, songs that recounted God’s Amazing Grace. That night was only the first of many times he provided us with impromptu concerts, and the more I heard him play the more I grew curious to know who and where he was. One evening I finally decided to find this mysterious piper, so I got into my canoe and began paddling across the lake. I had assumed that because of the volume and clarity of the music he must be close by, but no matter how far I went, he was still just a little further ahead. The music, it seemed, was carried almost endlessly across the placid surface of the lake.
In the past year, no place has been more on my heart and no subject more on my mind than heaven. I have known about heaven since my youngest days and believed in it for as long as I have believed in anything. But my knowledge has always been abstract and my interest has always been distant. Heaven was for later, not for now, a subject that should concern me only when I was older, only when I myself was near to dying. And that was true until a single moment made heaven so very real and so very urgent.
It still shocks me to write the words: I have a son in heaven. There is much that is mysterious about heaven, much that remains opaque as we study the scriptures with clouded eyes and weakened minds. But one thing we can know with absolute certainty is that heaven is a place of music, a place of singing, a place of great orchestras and mighty choirs. In John’s revelation of what is and what is to be, he sees musicians and describes their music. He listens as choirs of men and angels sing out their praises to God. He marvels as the nations gather to fall on their faces and cry out in worship. He rejoices hearing the voice of a vast multitude singing “Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns.” Whatever else is true of heaven, it is most certainly a place of music.
Of all the “normal” things I found difficult to return to in the aftermath of Nick’s death, singing was near the forefront, and particularly singing with the local church. There is something about joining voices and joining hearts with other Christians that is so very moving. I still often find a lump growing in my throat and tears springing to my eyes when we sing together. It is rare that I can get through the songs without being nearly overcome by my emotions. And I can’t help but think the reason is that the singing we do in our little congregation is not merely a foretaste of our worship in that great heavenly congregation, but a real participation in it. There is a  sense in which our worship extends far beyond the four walls of our little building and reaches to the very gates of heaven.
Christians have long affirmed what we call “the communion of the saints.” We profess that God has one people, not two. And though for a time his church exists partially triumphant in heaven and partially militant on earth, it is truly undivided, for we have all been permanently joined together through our living Savior. We profess this reality in some of our best-loved songs. In “For All the Saints,” for example, we who are on earth tell of the unity we have with those who are in heaven:
Oh, bless’d communion, fellowship divine!We feebly struggle, they in glory shine,yet all are one in thee, for all are thine.Alleluia, alleluia!
In “The Church’s One Foundation” we sing of the mysterious but still real fellowship we enjoy.
Yet she on earth hath unionWith God the Three in One,And mystic sweet communionWith those whose rest is won:O happy ones and holy!Lord, give us grace that we,Like them, the meek and lowly,In love may dwell with Thee.
And in “Blest Be the Tie That Binds” we express the truth that even through the pain of separation our unity remains undisrupted.
When we are called to part,it gives us inward pain;but we shall still be joined in heart,and hope to meet again.
Because we are joined to Christ, we are joined to one another and can have a sure and steady confidence that we shall meet again. And oh, I long to meet my boy again. I long to see him, long to hug him, long to hear his voice. I long to worship with him as we did so many times over so many years. I repent of ever thinking little of the privilege it was to stand as a family—a complete family—to worship our God together.
But I rejoice that in a very real sense we still do worship together, for we are bound together by the “blest tie” of our shared love for Christ. I have heard it said that when we sing today we are preparing ourselves to take our place in that heavenly choir. While that’s true, it’s not entirely true, for there is a sense that when we sing today we are really and truly taking our place in that great assembly. We are joining our voices together as Christ’s one people, Christ’s one church, Christ’s one choir.
And so, when I stand with God’s people to sing God’s praises, I have a new awareness that I do not sing alone. We as a church do not sing alone. Rather, when we lift our voices, we join them with the singing voices of the saints of all the ages. The earthly and the heavenly, the militant and the triumphant, the ones longing for Christ’s presence and the ones basking in it sing as one, for we are one. And as I sing I listen, for I am sure that in my heart I am beginning to hear my voice joining with Nick’s as we each take up our place in the very same choir. As the piper’s music once carried across the lake and reached my ear, the strains of heaven’s music carry across time and space to touch my heart and give me hope.