The Pharisees loaded the Sabbath with untold stupid laws and turned it into a day of fear and misery. Jesus now recovers it. For he is the Lord of the Sabbath. He is the God of the seven days of creation. He was the one who created the world and who rested on the Seventh Day.

My good friend has a heart problem. Sometimes it races uncontrollably, and dangerously. He’s a very busy man, with lots of plates in the air. The doctor says he has to slow down: “There needs to be time each day when you end up saying to yourself, ‘What shall I do now?’” Times of boredom are highly recommended. Does he ever find such times? I doubt it.
Our pace of life is frantic, perhaps especially if you have some kids running around. And then there’s our mind. There’s a three-ring circus going on up there: action, anguish, anger, drama, dismay, debate, and more action. “When I lay me down to sleep” is exactly when the circus of the mind is unmasked, “with inward furies blasted.” It can take a while to find sleep, and when you wake in the night, it begins again.
Whenever do we find rest for our bodies and minds? Rest from our worries? Rest from our financial obligations and strains? Rest from relationship clouds and puzzles? Above all, rest from sin? From relentless nagging temptation? From failure? From guilt and shame? When will we be able to look at one another with a placid conscience? When will we be able to look full into the awful and holy face of God without flinching with the shame and guilt of a sin-stained soul?
Rest is right here. Right here in the first three verses of the second chapter of Genesis.

Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them. (Gen. 2:1)

Moses pictures completed creation: light, firmament, verdant land, sun, moon, stars, birds, fishes, and the mighty creatures of the ocean deep, the land animals—domestic, wild, and swarming—as a mighty and splendid army, a great host arrayed before her general. And we, male and female in the image of God, are at the head of that array, made by God to enjoy, subdue, and govern it all for the mutual benefit of humanity and creation.
God finishes what he starts.
God was thus successful in his work. This is emphatic—both verses one and two begin in the original language with the verb “finished.”
How many times do we start something that we never finish: War and Peace, a home-project, learning German, or writing a piece of music? And we fail so often to complete far more important things: we pull out of a friendship, we give up on parenting, or even a marriage. Why do we fail? Sometimes because we lack the strength and ability: we thought we could write an EP, or build a greenhouse, but we just can’t. More often we get bored, or we simply lack the will to stick with what we promised to stick with. God set out to create the universe, with humanity as his leading image-bearers; and lacking neither the power, ability, or will, he completed his work.

And on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it God rested from all his work that he had done in creation. (Gen. 2:2-3)

Work is good.
God worked. Work is good. We were created to work. Work is not the result of the curse any more than childbirth is the result of the curse. It is the difficulty and frustration of work that came as part of the curse, just as it is the pain of childbirth—of bringing a child into a world of war and disease and evil—that was curse-caused.
The great goal of many in the West is retirement from work: endless summers of eggs Benedict, country drives, and barge tours down the Rhone. Work is painful and frustrating. Who does not want to be freed from that? But our Maker works (“My Father is always at his work to this very day,” John 5:17), and he made us to work. Work is good, and it is sin to want to have no work and responsibility. To get old and frail in body and mind, where we can no longer do as much work, is a sadness. We should look forward to those new bodies that are promised to Christ’s people, so that we can get back to work! What we need is not the absence of work, but the redemption of work.
Yet on the Seventh Day of creation week, God stopped working, and rested. Work is good, yet work is not an end itself. It is done to make something good, to achieve something worthy, and then after completion there is rest and the enjoyment of what is made. It is very bold of Moses to say that “God rested,” and even to say that he was “refreshed” on that day (Exod. 31:17). The idolatrous mind, always hankering to belittle God, instinctively seizes at his phrase: “Who is this god who is so wearied by his exertions that he needs to rest? Is he really almighty and self-sufficient?” Genesis 2 doesn’t say that a tired god needed to stop. This is God’s way: he works, and then he ceases from work and rests.
God’s way: work, and then rest.
This is likewise to be the way of God’s image-bearers. For God “blessed the seventh day, and made it holy.” When God blesses, he turns his face towards someone or something, communicates his goodness to that thing, and bestows function. (Thus, God had blessed the birds and fishes, land-animals, and humanity [Gen. 1:22, 28].) The Seventh Day alone is blessed, to reflect the face of God and all his goodness. The Seventh Day will carry a special function: God makes it holy—distinct, life-imparting, and good.
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Are you standing on the firm and dry ground, the rock of salvation Jesus Christ? Jesus rescues us from disobedience and death, to obedience and life—abundant life! When he made vintage wedding wine he made a lot of it! (John 2:6). When he fed the five thousand with loaves and fishes, there were twelve baskets of leftovers (John 6:13).  “He satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things!” (Ps. 107:9). And look at the home that Jesus is preparing for us. The New Heaven and Earth, a place of unceasing abundance and life.

Have you ever noticed how sad people look in cafés? There we are with our hot coffee and a table heaving with Eggs Benedict, warm croissants, and smashed avocado on toast. And though we feast on foods that most will only ever see in a picture, we seem unhappy. Why so?
We are unhappy because though our stomachs are full of delicacies, our hearts are empty and our spirits are parched. We don’t know our Creator. We don’t know why we exist. God pours out love-gifts of sun and breath, food and family, and we don’t see him. We are dying, and we don’t want our lives to end. We don’t know where we are going, nor how to get there.
This must have been how the first readers of Genesis felt: Israel was enslaved and dying in Egypt at the hand of cruel and genocidal Pharaoh. The six days of Genesis 1 showed them God, who he is, and what he is about to do for them—and for all his people in the millennia ahead.
Creation began as a lightless, lifeless, formless, and watery chaos (Gen. 1:1-2). Then we see God laboring on this raw material over six days to make it habitable for humankind. Humanity needs light, and so on Day One God floodlit the blackness. Humanity needs air, and so on Day Two he created the sky—a “vault” where humanity could breathe and live.
But human beings cannot live on water alone.
Even to travel across it, or to build above or on it, we need the hard materials that only dry land can provide. And when you read about the sailors of centuries past, after six months at sea even the most hardened sea dogs crave to see vegetation and to feel the coarse sand between their toes. We need the land and all that it produces for us. Our feet crave terra firma. And this is what God does on Day Three:

And God said, “Let the waters under the heavens be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear.” And it was so. God called the dry land Earth, and the waters that were gathered together he called Seas. And God saw that it was good.

And God said, “Let the earth sprout vegetation, plants yielding seed, and fruit trees bearing fruit in which is their seed, each according to its kind, on the earth.” And it was so. The earth brought forth vegetation, plants yielding seed according to their own kinds, and trees bearing fruit in which is their seed, each according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening and there was morning, the third day. (Gen. 1:9-13)

Note again the sheer power of God. God speaks, the waters gather, dry ground appears. By naming the ground and gathered waters he proves ownership and determines purpose.
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The history of the church is one astonishing deliverance tale after another. At every moment she is threatened to be engulfed and drowned by the floods of persecution, internal explosion, anti-God philosophy, apathy, and materialism. Yet the Lord who said on Day Two, “Let there be a firmament-expanse between the waters to separate water from water,” continues to provide breathing space and life for his church.  

My son was two years old at the time. We were in our neighbor’s yard, standing next to their swimming pool. He stepped into the water and fell like a stone. For a split second (though time slows in these situations, and it seemed much longer), he didn’t struggle or try to get out—he simply sat on the bottom of the pool. I reached down instantly and hauled him out. I was much more disturbed than he was, and shocked at how quickly and silently a little child could drown.
God’s church is always in danger of drowning.
God’s church is always in danger of drowning—suffocating in the waters of outward persecution and inward materialism and temptation. This applies to us as a body, and this applies to us individually. But we need not fear, for our Savior—from the very beginning—showed how he can deliver us from the chaotic suffocating waters in whatever form they come.
In Genesis 1:6-8, we read about God’s work on the second day:

And God said, “Let there be an expanse in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.” And God made the expanse and separated the waters that were under the expanse from the waters that were above the expanse. And it was so. And God called the expanse Heaven. And there was evening and there was morning, the second day.

The “expanse” (raqia) separates the water that made up the original formless, empty, lifeless, black, and watery chaos (1:1-2). It creates a horizontal space between water that is above and water that is below. And God called it “Heaven” (shamayim), which is the very common Hebrew word for the place, both seen and unseen, that is far above the surface of the earth.
Raqia, thus, is a sturdy barrier that God stretches out above the earth. And when we put this with its name, shamayim, “heaven” or “sky,” we see that on Day Two God made the sky, a powerful spacious barrier that holds apart water that is down from water that is up.
What, though, is the water that is above? Proverbs 8:27-28, a very beautiful picture of creation spoken by “Wisdom” personified, tells us:

“I was there when he set the heavens in place, when he marked out the horizon on the face of the deep, when he established the clouds above and fixed securely the fountains of the deep.”

The “waters below” are the oceans, and the “waters above” are the clouds.
What a magnificent picture that God paints before our eyes! First, we see creation: formless, lifeless, lightless, empty, and watery. This is the raw material. On Day One God floods creation with light. And periods of light will alternate with periods of darkness to make “day and night.” Yet, although creation is no longer black, it is still a formless watery chaos. On Day Two God builds structure, a firmament-expanse, a sky which separates water below from water that is above.
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Whoever you are, and whatever the depths and agony of your trials, God is hovering over you: he loves you, he is near to you, and he can rescue you. We see a living picture of his rescue unfold in the subsequent six days of creation.  

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.—Genesis 1:1-2

If we are going to get anything out of Genesis, then we must prepare ourselves.
Basil of Caesarea (330-79) said at the beginning of his Hexaemeron, a series of sermons on Genesis 1,

How earnestly the soul should prepare itself to receive such high lessons! How pure it should be from carnal affections, how unclouded by worldly disquietudes, how active and ardent in its researches, how eager to find in its surroundings an idea of God which may be worthy of Him!

And John Calvin (1509-64) said in his commentary on Genesis, “The world is a mirror in which we ought to behold God.” “If my readers sincerely wish to profit with me in meditating on the works of God, they must bring with them a sober, docile mild, and humble spirit.”
So remember that the author of these words, Moses, saw an appearance of God at the burning bush, and God spoke with him “face to face, as a man speaks with his friend” (Exod. 33:11; cf. Num. 12:6-8). And don’t forget the power of these words, “which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus” (2 Tim. 3:15).
The Hebrew word for “beginning” is ראשׁית (rēshīt), which may also mean “starting point” or “first,” and is closely related to ראשׁ (rōsh), which means “head.” The word God translates אלהים, Elōhīm, which may be the plural for אל (el), the generic word for god. The plural does not in itself teach the doctrine of the Trinity, that there is one God and three persons in the godhead, but is more likely a “plural of majesty.” God is not just god, he is GOD. Elōhīm. GOD! The very sound of this word, naming as it does the Creator of the universe, should fill us with awe, dread, and love.
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.
Before there was an earth and atoms, life and light, time and tide, there was God. He is eternal, which does not mean that he is very old, but that he had no beginning. He always was, is, and will be. Many have mockingly asked, “What was God doing before he created the world?” In his Commentaries on Genesis, Calvin relates a humorous answer he had read to this question:

When a certain impure dog was in this manner pouring ridicule upon God, a pious man retorted that God had been at that time by no means inactive, because he had been preparing hell for the captious.

We cannot speak reasonably of what God was doing “before creation,” because before creation there was no time as we know it—there was no “before.” Certainly there was nothing that brought God himself into existence.
The Hebrew verb for create is ברא (bārā); it is only ever used with God as the subject. What did God create? The “heavens and the earth.” Heaven, שׁמים (shamayīm), also means sky. Earth, ארץ (erets), also means land and ground. These words do not have a special meaning in Genesis 1:1; but when put together like this, “heaven and earth,” that is, “sky and ground,” “everything that’s up and everything that’s down,” they emphasize that God made everything. Only God himself is not made.
There are no time indications in these first two verses. The earth (erets) was formless and empty. There is some lovely alliteration here in the original, the earth was תהו ובהו, tōhu va bōhu. These words are neither “good” nor “bad” but are exceedingly and perhaps unpleasantly bland. Tōhu can refer to a barren wasteland, “a barren and howling waste” (Deut. 32:10; also Job 6:18). It can refer to futility (1 Sam. 12:21) and meaninglessness (Isa. 29:21). Bōhu appears only three times in the Old Testament. Isaiah 34:11 describes how “God will stretch out over Edom the measuring line of chaos and the plumb line of desolation,” and Jeremiah uses just the same phrase as Genesis 1:2: “I looked at the earth, and it was formless and empty (tōhu va bōhu); and at the heavens, and their light was gone” (Jer. 4:23). We will return to Jeremiah’s hugely significant phrase in a moment.
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God the Son has come, incarnate in the same human flesh as you and me. How great is human dignity if God the Son took on the full body and soul of human nature. How great that he died for image bearers (he did not die for horses), to restore the image in us. 

Human beings in the West are very confused.
On the one hand, we sense that we are important and significant. Life means something. We have purpose—a high purpose. We were destined for great things.
On the other hand, we tell ourselves, incessantly, that we are meaningless and insignificant:

“Earth is a tiny planet in a tiny solar system in a galaxy that is just one of countless billions. The apparent significance of our planet is an illusion.”

“And human beings are simply one life-form among millions. Our sense of being more important than other life is an illusion. The apparent difference between Melinda and malaria, Timothy and tapeworms, Bob and bacteria, is a trick: a trick born of our pathetic tendency to self-aggrandizement and the pernicious influence of religion.”

“Anyway, what we call ‘life’ is merely a composite of chemical reactions and discharged electricity. This may create the chimera of life and consciousness, but the chemical reactions in the brain are the same in kind as the chemical reactions in the fertilizer factory, and no different in objective value.”

We say that “the value of human life is illusory.” Yet, when some regime or dictator acts consistently with this, and butchers whole populations of people who stand in the way of their grand designs, it shakes and sickens us to the core. At the mere sound of the word, Hiroshima, our souls shudder.
We are confused.
Our young men crave to lead and protect, yet give up their eyes and hearts to fecal sewers of pornography. Our young women yearn for love and respect, yet give their bodies to men who have made no public and honorable commitment to them, nor even a pretense of commitment.
Western ethics are shambolic. The same political party that pushes for liberal abortion laws pushes for harsh penalties for women who smoke while pregnant. The same leaders who cry for legalized prostitution—to open the brothel doors to our sisters and daughters, and to smooth the way for sex traffickers—are the shrillest when sexual harassment strikes.
Our hearts tell us that we are important. Our heads tell us that this is an illusion. We are confused, and the confusion is shredding the Western soul.
What does God’s Word say? “Your heart’s instinct is right! Your head is wrong!” “You’re not thinking right!” “Listen to the truth about yourself; you’re more important than you could ever have conceived!”
Open up to Genesis 1:24-26, and you will see three reasons why you are important:
1.  You are important because this world was made for you.
When the president of the United States visits another country, the preparation is stupendous. Teams of security experts meet with local law enforcement to prepare to keep the president’s body safe. An armored limousine is delivered: bullet, bomb, and rocket proof. The airport is closed. The host nation’s highest dignitaries stand waiting on the tarmac. A gleaming guard of honor stands to attention. A rich red carpet is unrolled, and a brass band plays. All of this preparation says: “This person is important.”
Compare this to God’s preparation for your arrival. Creation was at first lightless, lifeless, formless, and watery. You were on the way. Remember at this point the Hebrew concept of corporate identity: Adam was the father of all human beings. All human beings are derived from him, and so all human beings were represented by him, and were latent in him. By preparing the world for Adam, God was very much preparing the world for you.
God saw the darkness, he saw you coming, and he said, “Let there be light!” (Gen. 1:3). And he flooded creation with physical light and the light of truth and goodness.
God saw the airless watery chaos, he saw you coming, and he said, “Let there be a firmament, an expanse!” (Gen. 1:6). And he created breathing space for you, a place to respire.
God saw the seas, and he saw you coming, and he said, “Let the waters be gathered, and let dry land appear, and let the land be filled with seed-bearing plants, and let it look beautiful!” (Gen. 1:9-13) And so he stocked a mighty pantry for you, and adorned your world with heart-aching beauty.
God said, “Let there be a sun, moon, and stars, to regulate the seasons and tides that humanity needs, and to call humanity to the greatest and most glorious and beautiful and satisfying thing a human being can do: to worship and enjoy me!” (Gen. 1:14-19).
God saw the empty skies and seas, and he saw you coming, and he said “Let the sky be filled with living creatures, birds of many kinds. And let the seas be filled with fishes and whales and other sea-creatures” (Gen. 1:20-23). And so God adorned the skies and seas with creatures that give life, and enhance and beautify life.
And then God created the land animals:

And God said, “Let the earth bring forth living creatures according to their kinds—livestock and creeping things and beasts of the earth according to their kinds.” And it was so. And God made the beasts of the earth according to their kinds and the livestock according to their kinds, and everything that creeps on the ground according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. (Gen. 1:24-25)

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Marie Durand is quite well known in France, and a number of different causes have taken her as a figurehead.
During the nineteenth century, theologically liberal French Protestants held Marie Durand up as a heroine of freedom of conscience. They portrayed her as the woman who spent decades in prison for a cause being fought out by the French Enlightenment, by such great minds as d’Alembert, Diderot, Rousseau, and Voltaire. Liberal Protestants observed that, while the philosophes fought for freedom of conscience on the intellectual level, Durand’s decades of physical suffering made a powerful social-conscience contribution to the cause.
Conservative French Protestants, fiercely loyal to their religious and cultural roots, viewed Marie Durand as a heroic Huguenot, the ultimate example of a faithful Calvinist holding fast to her sixteenth-century Reformation heritage.
Evangelical Protestants in general have presented Durand as an example of steadfast faith in Christ under severe persecution. For them, Durand exemplifies the faithful Christian martyr, “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:10). Simonetta Carr, for example, has written a beautifully illustrated biography of Marie Durand as an inspiring example for Christian children and teens.
During World War II, leaders of the French resistance used Marie Durand’s name and story to inspire the French people to resist Nazi tyranny. And in 2016 actress and author Ysabelle Lacamp portrayed Marie Durand as a heroine of religious freedom in a series of books dealing with all kinds of social justice matters.
In short, many have held up Marie Durand as an inspiring heroine for their own causes. Few, however, have examined her life. Fewer again have examined her remarkable forty-eight surviving letters, forty-one of which were written from her dungeon.
Marie Durand was born in 1711 in a remote southern French village called Bouchet-de-Pranles. It remains to this day a delightful region of chestnut groves, undulating streams, green hills, and ancient stone farmhouses. You can still visit her home, which is now a museum devoted to her church and family, the Musée du Vivarais Protestant.
On the lintel above the family hearth Marie’s father etched, in exquisite uncials, these words of praise:

GOD BE PRAISED, 1696, É[tienne] D[urand].

The disciples saw Jesus before his death, resurrection, and ascension, before he had shown them all that he is and all that he had done. In this vision we see Jesus in his complete post-ascension power and glory. Nothing is missing. 

“I wish I could have seen Jesus, just like the disciples did.”
You might crave this, especially in hard times. To be next to Jesus, to listen to him and see him face-to-face. To be comforted by that living presence.
In fact, we have been given something even better than that. Revelation 1:9-17 brings us face-to-face with Jesus. Through John’s eyes and ears we see and hear him. And by the Holy Spirit this vision becomes immediate and alive. Here we do not just read about someone who once came face-to-face with Christ. Instead, the Holy Spirit brings us here and now into his actual presence.
Why is this “better” than what the disciples had two thousand years ago? It is better because the disciples saw Jesus before his death, resurrection, and ascension, before he had shown them all that he is and all that he had done. In this vision we see Jesus in his complete post-ascension power and glory. Nothing is missing. Are you ready?

I, John, your brother and partner in the tribulation and the kingdom and the patient endurance that are in Jesus, was on the island called Patmos on account of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus (Rev. 1:9).

They say that John was the only disciple not to die a violent death. Yet he was forced to “patiently endure” for Jesus. He was exiled by the authorities to Patmos, a rugged little volcanic island in the Dodecanese, two hours by ferry from the coast of Turkey. The Sea is a major character in Revelation, appearing in twenty-one verses. John was certainly in the midst of it on that rocky crag.
The NIV version of Revelation 1:9 describes John as “a companion in the suffering…that are ours in Jesus.” Suffering also means pressure. Jesus said, “‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you” (John 15:20). Persecution and pressure are integral to the Christian life.
Exile was intended to get John “out of the way.” God used John’s exile, however, to record this apocalyptic vision, which would help and strengthen Christians for millennia to come.

I was in the Spirit on the Lord’s day, and I heard behind me a loud voice like a trumpet saying, “Write what you see in a book and send it to the seven churches, to Ephesus and to Smyrna and to Pergamum and to Thyatira and to Sardis and to Philadelphia and to Laodicea” (Rev. 1:10-11).

This is the only “Lord’s Day” reference in the New Testament. Most think that it is Sunday, the first day of the week, the day of Jesus’ resurrection, and of Pentecost. Two other passages describe Christians gathering on “the first day of the week” (Acts 20:7; 1 Cor 16:12), so it is no surprise that from the very beginning the church called Sunday “the Lord’s Day” and gathered that day to worship Christ.
This is what John was doing. He was “in the Spirit,” and the Holy Spirit gave him the extraordinary vision which we are about to read. A “loud voice like a trumpet” seizes John’s attention like the priestly trumpets that called Israel to assemble in God’s presence. That is exactly where John finds himself and where he is commanded to write what he sees on a scroll. Only a select few in the ancient world were trained to write and read, so John’s ability was a rare one. How wonderfully he used that skill.
The seven churches that John writes to are all in Asia Minor and form a roughly clockwise circle. Seven letters were written into one large letter that was to be passed from church to church and read out loud. No doubt it was also copied.

Then I turned to see the voice that was speaking to me, and on turning I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the midst of the lampstands one like a son of man. (Rev. 1:12-13a)

John turned to see the same Son of Man that Daniel 7:13-14 describes, coming “with the clouds of heaven” (Rev 1:7). Note that he is “among” the lampstands. We will come back to that. Look now at how Jesus, the Son of Man, is portrayed to us with eight symbols. Each of them is very important.
1. Jesus’ Priestly Robe and Sash

[He was] clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash around his chest (Rev. 1:13b).

Moses had clothed Aaron with a tunic and sash (Lev. 8:7). It was the basic uniform of an Old Testament priest.
His robe and golden sash identifies Jesus also as a priest and mediator. He speaks to us on God’s behalf and prays to God on our behalf. He stands before God interceding and pleading for the salvation and welfare of his people. Be encouraged, for he is most certainly heard:

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. (Heb. 4:15)

2. Jesus’ White Hair

The hairs of his head were white, like white wool, like snow (Rev. 1:14a).

As we age the pigment cells in our hair follicles die. With less melanin our hair becomes more transparent, appearing grey, silver, or white. This is not a disaster. In the Bible some “snow on the roof” advertises wisdom, the experience that comes with having travelled around the sun a few more times than one’s contemporaries.
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Thomas had been told by the other disciples that Jesus was raised, and until the end of time every human being stands in exactly the same place as Thomas at that first meeting. We, like Thomas, have heard the eyewitness testimony of Jesus’ disciples: “We have seen the Lord!” Thomas’s absence at that first encounter was not accidental. Jesus arranged it that way, for us. We stand in Thomas’s shoes. We have heard the eye-witnesses. Thomas is us. But unlike Thomas, we do not have opportunity to see the risen Jesus with our own eyes, or to touch him with our own hands. We are “blessed,” therefore, if we do what Thomas did not do, but should have done. We are blessed if we believe the disciples’ reasonable and reliable eyewitness testimony. What’s at stake? Everything.

Easter has long been my top bit of the year. It is the time of crisp autumn weather. It is the time of the delicious Friday-Tuesday break. It is the time of hot cross buns and chocolate eggs. And it is the time when some bishop somewhere writes to the paper to explain why we don’t have to believe in the resurrection.
I lie awake wondering what they think they will accomplish by this. Do they think that we will be impressed with their “courage” and “honesty”? Do they think that the general public, relieved that being a Christian no longer means believing in Jesus’ resurrection, will flock with shouts of joy into our churches?
Does it not occur to these antishepherds that they just confirm the public’s vague hypothesis (false, as a matter of fact), that there is no real problem with staying out of the church?
Does it not occur to them that the truly honest thing, if they can no longer believe what is at the beating heart of Christian thought, would be to give up their fat salaries, oak-lined studies, and grand titles, and walk away from the Christian church? Would not the courageous thing be to cease feeding parasitically on the church, and to start their own organization concordant with their own beliefs?
As depressing as this is, however, unbelief in the physical resurrection of Jesus should never surprise us. The Gospel of John frankly describes, explains it, and challenges it. For, long before the unbelieving bishops of our day, there was Thomas, one of the Twelve.
The Original Doubting Thomas
Listen to John’s description of what happened on the Sunday after Good Friday, when Jesus was falsely condemned, scourged, mocked, stripped naked, nailed to a cross until dead, and then buried.

On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked where the disciples were for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord. (John 20:19-20)

Jesus had already appeared to Mary Magdalene, and she had already told the surviving disciples that she had seen Jesus alive. Yet they are cowering behind locked doors. Jesus does not knock and enter, but appears suddenly, his body transformed by resurrection to be able to appear and disappear at will.
Surely they turned white with fear at Jesus’ sudden appearance, partly explaining his “Peace be with you!” He displays to them the nail marks of his crucifixion, and terror dissolves into joy. The Lord is alive! Wonderfully, physically alive!
But Someone Was Missing
Now Thomas (also known as Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!” (John 20:24-25).
Thomas was a twin, for that is the meaning of Ta’oma’ in Aramaic, and didymus in Greek. An interesting detail. Now if you were Thomas, what would you have thought about this report? What would you have said in response? Perhaps something like this:

“Now I know these men. I have lived life with them for three years. They wouldn’t lie about something this important. They can’t all have hallucinated the same thing. And they saw a physical body, not a spectre. Besides, Jesus had foretold on many occasions that he would die, and then rise to life. I should rejoice with them!”

Instead, Thomas did the following:

But he said to them, “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.” (John 20:25).

On the face of it, Thomas’s conditions seem reasonable: “I just want to see some evidence for myself. I need to know for myself that this is not a ghost or an imposter. This is the standard of evidence I want: not listening to the eyewitness authority of others, but seeing and hearing and touching for myself.”
Notice that though this seems reasonable, this is not the standard that we apply in many crucial areas of our lives.
No court of law operates on this basis.
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Unlike our forebears, people today flounder in a sea of greed, materialism, and waste. Christians included. A bad attitude to money is a constant temptation. We must listen carefully to the words of Jesus in Proverbs on money, and we must also listen to the words of the incarnate Jesus on money: for he knew its power and danger, and had very much to say about it.

When my grandmother sold her 1976 Toyota Corona in 1996, the sun visors and doors were still covered with the protective plastic from the factory. The car’s original green paint was brilliant and immaculate, and it had been serviced within an inch of its life. In fact, when it rained Grandma had to go out with raincoat and umbrella because Grandad didn’t want to risk rusting their beautiful car.
It wasn’t just the car. Grandma only ever owned one electric toaster, a 1948 wedding present. It had flip down doors on either side, and you had to manually turn the bread. She only ever used one carving knife the one her blacksmith grandfather had repurposed, using forge and hammer from a worn-out steel file in the early 1900s.
In her last years, in the blazing Perth summers, she still cooled herself using a damp towel and electric fan, reluctant to waste electricity on her perfectly good split-system air conditioner.
Grandma was born in 1926, and so she lived her girlhood through the Great Depression. Her family had no car or cart, and they traveled by foot or bus. Her father, a school master, supplemented the family table by hunting rabbits. Her mother had to sell her beloved piano to buy food: “We ate the piano,” Grandma would sometimes say. Butter was scarce, and drippings on bread with salt and pepper made a frequent meal. (Dripping was the fat from a cooked roast, collected into used tins.) Grandma, like just about every other Australian in the 1930s, had to live frugally, and she never lost those childhood habits. She treasured and looked after every possession.
How different my life has been. I have had many cars, and I haven’t looked after any of them especially well. Cheap electric appliances come and go. My worn-out clothes are discarded instead of repaired. Every now and then we have to clear uneaten leftovers out of the fridge. If it’s cold, we put on the heater without much thought.
By any standard of history and place, the Australian middle class enjoys spectacular wealth. And with wealth comes wastage, greed, forgetfulness of the poor, pride, a sense of entitlement, and spiritual apathy.
These are not small dangers. And so we turn urgently to God’s word for help and guidance. Here are seven things the book of Proverbs teaches us about poverty and wealth, riches and want.
1.  Wealth comes from the Lord.
“The blessing of the LORD brings wealth” (Prov. 10:22). If God is sovereign, if he governs all creation, then both riches and poverty come ultimately from him. Poor and barren Hannah recognized this: “The LORD sends poverty and wealth; he humbles and he exalts” (1 Sam. 2:7; Scripture quotes from NIV version unless otherwise noted). And Moses warned rich Israelites never to forget this:

You may say to yourself, “My power and the strength of my hands have produced this wealth for me.” But remember the LORD your God, for it is he who gives you the ability to produce wealth. (Deut. 8:17)

Godliness and riches are linked: “Humility is the fear of the LORD; its wages are riches and honor and life” (Prov. 22:4). Psalm 112 concurs:

Praise the Lord.
Blessed are those who fear the Lord,who find great delight in his commands.
Their children will be mighty in the land;the generation of the upright will be blessed.Wealth and riches are in their houses,and their righteousness endures forever. (Ps. 112:1-3)

In a fallen world, however, the correlation is far from robust. The godly can be destitute (like Hannah, Job in his trials, Elijah, and Mary), and the godless can be rich (like Pharaoh, Nabal, Darius, and the glutton who pretended Lazarus didn’t exist). The rich should not presume that God smiles on them, nor should the poor assume that he frowns on them.
2. The Lord normally bestows wealth by hard work, frugality, and saving.
“Dishonest money dwindles away, but he who gathers money little by little makes it grow” (Prov. 13:11). “All hard work brings a profit, but mere talk leads only to poverty” (Prov. 14:23). “The plans of the diligent lead to profit as surely as haste leads to poverty” (Prov. 21:5).
And so indolent epicureans tend to impoverish themselves: “He who loves pleasure will become poor; whoever loves wine and oil will never be rich” (Prov. 21:17). “He who works his land will have abundant food, but the one who chases fantasies will have his fill of poverty” (Prov. 28:19).
Some will inherit the benefits of the hard work, frugality, and saving of others. “Houses and wealth are inherited from parents” (Prov. 19:14a). The godly will want this for their children: “A good man leaves an inheritance for his children’s children, but a sinner’s wealth is stored up for the righteous” (Prov. 13:22). A patrimony does not however come without its dangers: “An inheritance quickly gained at the beginning will not be blessed at the end” (Prov. 20:21).
3. Greed is evil.
Gordon Gecko, the fictional Wall Street swindler, urged that “greed is good.” Scripture urges instead that greed is godless. The greedy fall easy prey to “get rich by corruption, stinginess, and bribery” schemes: “A greedy man brings trouble to his family, but he who hates bribes will live” (Prov. 15:27).
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With a few careless words conflict so quickly rages out of control. Thus, Proverbs urges, in conflict, to speak gentle and wise words that please the Lord and bring healing, rather than gushing harsh and foolish words that anger the Lord and crush those around us.

In the 1970s a professor by the name of Albert Mehrabian proposed his famous 7-38-55 rule of communication. When we communicate our likes and dislikes, the listener’s acceptance of our communication will depend 7 percent on our words, 38 percent on our tone of voice, and 55 percent on our facial expressions and body language.
If I say, “I love pickled herring,” and my voice is slow and monotone and my face looks like a pickled herring, then, despite my words, you won’t put pickled herring out on the table next time we have breakfast together—unless you have a mischievous streak. And if I hear you tell me that you “have no problem with me” with an upbeat voice, but your arms are crossed and you are making overly intense eye contact, then I won’t be convinced.
Texting is less demanding than face-to-face communication.
This means that face-to-face communication is costly, because I know that you are weighing not just my words but also the tone of my voice and my body language. I am going to get an immediate—possibly uncomfortable—response from you. Is this why we prefer less demanding forms of communication? Like a phone call—or even a text?
On the flip side, with face-to-face communication there is far less room for misunderstanding. Even if I don’t get my words exactly right, my tone of voice and expressions will fill in the gap, clarify, or even correct my inadequate or poorly chosen words. Then again, maybe I don’t want you to hear my tone of voice or to see my body language. Perhaps it would say too much…
Texting is especially open to causing misunderstanding.
So although communicating by telephone may be less costly—because you are not seeing and weighing my expressions—it is also more open to misunderstanding. And communicating by email or text is the least costly form of communication: I don’t have to open up my expressions or even my tone of voice to your scrutiny. But I am now 93 percent open to being misunderstood. You have only my bare words, unqualified, unenhanced, and uncorrected by my non-verbal communication.
Now how is this going to work out in a society that is increasingly isolationist and wary of face-to-face contact and where even phoning someone is becoming rare? Research shows that phone apps are only the fifth most used app on smartphones, and I am told that Millennials dislike being called and prefer only text. In fact, they consider it a little rude to be called without prior warning via text!
The LORD has something to say about speaking in the book of Proverbs. His words, written some three thousand years ago, still apply whether we are speaking, writing letters, writing emails or texts, or posting on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter.
The Bible has a lot to say about the power of speech.
First, consider the Bible’s teaching on the power of speech.

And God said, “Light be.”And light was (Gen 1:3).

When God speaks, light and galaxies and teaming life burst into existence. His words are that powerful. And a word from Jesus could kill a fig tree, calm a storm, and raise a rotting corpse to life.
And our words, like those of our heavenly Father whose image we bear, have power to them. They can’t create ex nihilo, but they can build up and tear down. They can create and destroy. They can bring a torrent of good or evil. James tells us that just as a tiny spark can set ablaze a great forest, so too can the tongue set the whole course of a person’s life on fire.
Our words can do tremendous good or harm.
Very powerful things can do tremendous good or tremendous harm, and so they need to be tamed and controlled and directed in the right way. Proverbs addresses the tongue in the same way it addresses everything, by looking first at the heart.

The mouth of the righteous is a fountain of life, but violence overwhelms the mouth of the wicked. (Prov. 10:11)

When a person has a righteous heart, then their mouth is a “fountain of life.” Their words transform what is saline and dead into something fresh and teaming with life. This makes me think of Ezekiel’s river, flowing east out of God’s Temple, and raising abundant life wherever it goes.
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