The gospel reminds us that God, who has no limits, does indeed love us. So much, in fact, that Jesus died for us. And that through Jesus, we can be reconciled to God and find our perfect acceptance and validation in Him. This is really the only way that we can live within our limits, isn’t it? Isn’t it when we don’t have the compulsive need to prove our own worth and validate our own existence through our work or our kids or our own achievements? 

The story is familiar, even if a person doesn’t happen to be a Christian.
There was nothing at all, except for God in the beginning. And then in the beginning, God created…
Everything else. Ex nihilo. Everything from nothing at all. God spoke it all into existence, all of creation born from his divine creativity, including human beings. These first human beings, placed in a perfect garden, free from any of the marks of guilt and shame so pervasive in us today, in perfect fellowship with each other and with Him.
Harmony. Peace. Productivity. Simplicity. All was very good.
But then came the snake. The temptation. The great fall, and that perfect creation was turned upside down.
Again, a familiar story. But I wonder if we might for a moment just zoom out a bit, and not focus on the kind of fruit or the specific nature of the temptation or even the immediate and far-reaching effects of that choice. When you zoom out a bit, here are a few bullet points about the situation:

There is a loving Creator who knows what is right and best.
There are created human beings who, though made in the image of that Creator, are far inferior in knowledge, wisdom, and power.
In His love and in His authority, God gave His creation limits.
The rebellion, then, was a refusal to trust in those limits and follow them.

Those four bullet points provide a number of friction points with modern society. There is, of course, the issue of a Creator at all. Despite the clear evidence of design threaded throughout creation, it’s certainly not a given that there is a Creator to begin with. And if there is a Creator, there are plenty who would argue with the character of that Creator. If you begin with a fundamental questioning of the Word of God, which is meant primarily to reveal to us who God is and what He is like, then we are left to imagine the nature and character of this Creator on our own.
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Our words are like water. Water is the stuff of life, but water is also incredibly destructive. Just like water, our words are incredibly powerful to either destroy, or to build up, especially to those we claim to love. When we are dealing with something that powerful, we would be very wise to be careful.

There have been two different occasions this week when my wife and I have had to remind each other to watch what we say. In each occasion, we were asking each other for wisdom on how to respond to a particular situation, and we repeated the same phrase in response to one another:
“Don’t say anything you will have to apologize for later.”
I think there’s wisdom in that. And surely that’s a pretty good reason on its own to be careful with your words. It’s because there is no edit button on our conversations. Words are the bell that can’t be unrung. You can try and walk things back, you can try and explain yourself, you can even try to justify the words you said, but in the end, it’s just there. That comment. That remark. That tone. It’s there. Always. And you don’t want to be embarrassed later by what you said in the moment.
But there are other reasons beyond avoiding embarrassment to watch what we say. Deeper reasons. And perhaps even more important ones. Here are three of them:
1. Because our words reflect our hearts.
A friend recently told me that what’s down in the well comes up in the bucket. When we find ourselves spouting off in anger or gossip or slander it’s not because we were just caught up in the moment; it’s because that’s what’s down in our hearts.
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Our idol might not be in the shape of a calf; it might be in the shape of power, or position, or money, or our children’s accomplishments, or even our ministry platform. But the whole reason that “thing”, whatever shape it takes, comes out of the fire of our lives is because we created the mold. We put in the resources. We let it bake for a while. In every choice we make, we are either choosing to glorify God and worship Him or forging the shape of an idol. 

Sometimes you read the Bible and just shake your head. Often, you shake your head in wonder as you are confronted with the power of God, the majesty of his creation, the immensity of His love and grace. We shake our heads because the truths there are too big for us; too unlike the kind of power or love that we see here on earth; too great for us to fully comprehend.
Then there are other times when we shake our heads at the people. We wonder at the hard-heartedness; the disbelief; the cycle of turning from God again and again. And then there are times we shake our heads because of the silliness.
Exodus 32 is one of those times. There is high drama in this chapter. The Israelites had been delivered from Egypt in miraculous fashion. The plagues had been called down; the sea had been parted; the people had walked through to the mountain where God had led them. And Moses had been up on that mountain for some time receiving the law that would be the cornerstone of this people for generations. But while Moses was up on the mountain, chaos was erupting in the camp below. For despite all that God had done, all the revelations of His power, all His faithful examples of provision and deliverance, the people wanted something more. Something else.

When the people saw that Moses was so long in coming down from the mountain, they gathered around Aaron and said, “Come, make us gods who will go before us. As for this fellow Moses who brought us up out of Egypt, we don’t know what has happened to him.”
Aaron answered them, “Take off the gold earrings that your wives, your sons and your daughters are wearing, and bring them to me.” So all the people took off their earrings and brought them to Aaron. He took what they handed him and made it into an idol cast in the shape of a calf, fashioning it with a tool. Then they said, “These are your gods, Israel, who brought you up out of Egypt” (Ex. 32:1-4).
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I grew up in the panhandle of Texas, an area that was and still is pretty notorious for the amount and severity of thunderstorms in the area. It was not uncommon during the spring and early summer for us to hear the tornado sirens and head next door to our neighbors’ basement because we needed a refuge. We needed a safe place to go.
I remember some years ago when I was a college pastor, my wife and I were leading a mission trip in eastern Africa and we had driven into the Sahara desert in two four wheel drive pickup trucks. We went out a little further than we should have, and stayed a little longer than we should have, and the desert around us got very dark very quickly. I felt exposed, in danger, and confused, and what I wanted more than anything was a refuge. We needed to find a place of safety.
On a lighter note, I am an introvert. If we are at a party or another event and we have been there for some time, you’ll probably find me eventually migrating to a chair in the corner, or perhaps even spending a little more time in the restroom than I actually need to. Once again, I will be looking for a place of safety.
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Perhaps the simplicity of God’s design and direction is even an apologetic for the truth of the faith. It is, actually, the simplest way to live. The simplest way to think. The simplest way to be. It is when we begin to tinker with this design and direction that we find complexity after complexity added to life.

I remember the day many years ago when I was introduced to the universal remote.
Maybe you remember the days when, sitting down to watch a movie, you took your shoes off, kicked back, took a deep breath, ready to relax and then you’re suddenly barraged with remote after remote. One for the TV. One for the DVD player. One for the speakers. One for… well, you couldn’t remember what that one was for, but you had it nearby just in case. And then you went through a complicated system of button-pushing, hoping to remember all the codes and orders and settings and then, after 10 minutes, to finally start the movie.
And then the universal remote. One remote to rule them all. One thing that controlled everything else. It was like heaven opened and the beautiful light of simplicity shone through the darkness of complexity.
I’m sure there have been other moments like that for you, just as there have been for me. It’s the moment when you’re trying to sift through a myriad of issues or instructions or regulations and then you suddenly come upon a new way – a different way – that allows you to cut through all the bureaucracy and red tape and get straight to the point. And once again, it’s beautiful.
Beautifully simple.
In an increasingly complex world, we look for moments like that. We will even pay for moments like that. To find a simpler way. A straight way.
And if you can keep that feeling of beautiful simplicity in your mind for a moment, consider this:
The way of sin is infinitely more complicated than the way of righteousness. Here are just a few examples:

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Picture the scene with me. It’s another busy day in the life of Jesus. His reputation has spread; He scarcely has a moment to Himself anymore. Everywhere He and His disciples turn, there are people. Sick people. Needy people. Accusing people. Skeptical people. And, on this particular day, there are also a bunch of kids.
It seemed parents in the crowd had started pushing and shoving their way forward with their kiddos in tow. They were coming because it was customary in those days for a great teacher of the law to lay their hands on children and pray for them in order to bless them. That’s just what these parents were doing.
Jesus’ disciples didn’t want any part of it. In fact, the disciples “rebuked” these tiger parents and their disruptive kiddos (Matt. 19:13). That’s a strong word – rightly so. There was nothing polite about what the disciples did; it’s not as if they pulled mom and dad aside and quietly whispered, “Jesus is actually teaching right now, but we’re going to have a meet and greet later and you are more than welcome to come then.” This word is so strong, in fact, that in another form it can be translated, “punished.”
Jesus, though, was even more incensed than they were at this intrusion: “When Jesus saw it, He was indignant and said to them, ‘Let the little children come to Me’” (Matt. 19:14).
Now, Jesus got frustrated with His disciples a lot. He was disappointed in their level of understanding several times. But this is the only time in the Bible where He is “indignant” with them. There was something about this whole scene, chaotic as it undoubtedly was, that made the Son of God really, really angry.
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What’s the last thing you think about before going to sleep? Do you number sheep? Do you count in reverse starting at 100? Do you think about your schedule for the morning? Or do you drift off with your phone in your hands?
Probably you have some kind of routine. And at the risk of disrupting that routine, I wonder if you might take that chance as your eyes are starting to close to do something else. Take those last few moments to pray. But pray about what?
Though the substance of your prayers might be anything, let me suggest that those moments before you sleep are a wonderful chance to pray through some specific promises from God’s Word. So tonight, why not remind yourself of something other than the number of sheep in the pen and your 8 am meeting agenda?
Here are three truths to form your prayers as you fall asleep tonight:
1. Thank you, Lord, that you do not sleep.
In a way, every single night we are reminded of our own weakness because we actually have to go to sleep. Whilst some find that Sleep Statistics can help them learn more about their patterns, for others it isn’t so easy. It’s the way we were made. God hard-wired our physical bodies to not only desire but to need, rest. That in and of itself is a lasting testimony of our own frailty. But when you consider just how vulnerable we are when we are asleep, you get a double sense of our own weakness.
Now that might send you spiraling into a paralysis of anxiety. Or, you can take the opportunity to thank the Lord that even though you are drifting off to sleep, He never does. He is awake. Wide awake. Just as He has been and will be for all eternity.
What better comfort is there in the midst of our own weakness than confessing that though we are weak, He is strong. Though we are dependent, He is self-sustaining. Though we might slumber, God is ever alert:

I lift my eyes toward the mountains.Where will my help come from?My help comes from the Lord,the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not allow your foot to slip;your Protector will not slumber.Indeed, the Protector of Israeldoes not slumber or sleep (Ps. 121:1-4).

Christian, you may or may not be feeling rightly today. Regardless, make sure you are “looking” rightly. No matter what you’re feeling, turn your eyes upon Jesus. And find that those things of earth which might be making you feel this way or that will slowly but surely grow strangely dim.

Helen Howarth Lemmel wrote the lyrics to “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus” in 1922. She loved music her entire life and even studies vocal music in Germany for a time. But by the time she was 55, she had become blind, been abandoned by her wealthy husband, and suffered various other tribulations. And that’s when she came across a little tract that deeply impressed her. The pamphlet read:
“So then, turn your eyes upon Him, look full into His face and you will find that the things of earth will acquire a strange new dimness.”
And Helen Lemmel responded with a song:
O soul are you weary and troubledNo light in the darkness you seeThere’s light for a look at the SaviorAnd life more abundant and free

Turn your eyes upon JesusLook full in his wonderful faceAnd the things of earth will grow strangely dimIn the light of his glory and grace
It’s a wonderful song, but it’s even better counsel. It is, in fact, very counsel we could receive during times of difficulty. During those days – during dark days – we will find that our feelings are spiraling out of control. And it’s during days like that which we must remember that even when we can’t make ourselves feel better, we can always control where our focus is. We can’t control how we feel but we can always control where we’re looking. And where we’re looking is actually more important than what we are feeling. Here’s why:
We cannot trust our feelings to tell us the truth:
The heart is more deceitful than anything else,and incurable—who can understand it? (Jer. 17:9). 
This is indeed an uncomfortable truth. It’s a decidedly different truth than the version of truth we find anywhere else in the world. While movies, Hollywood, and self-help gurus will tell us to follow our own hearts, the Bible says we should follow Jesus.
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Waiting on the Lord is not passive. When we are waiting on the Lord, there is plenty to keep us busy. We have an entire book riddled with the will of God to be busy about. Just because we are waiting on the Lord for one thing does not mean that we have pushed pause on everything else he has told us to do. No, we keep going in what we know until God brings about what we don’t know.

There is a regular trap I fall into as a homeowner. Something will break, wear out, or become damaged and I will take a look and then nod my head in resolution. Under my breath, I’ll say something like, “I’ll take care of this myself.” It hardly ever works out the way I intend.
I have lumpy drywall repair jobs, badly swinging screen doors, and half-done leaf raking jobs as witnesses to what I am and am not capable of on my own. It’s actually not that big of a deal; I learn a little something with each attempt, and my family indulges these ventures into the unknown with good-natured humor. Mostly. So my disposition toward trying this stuff is likely not to change in the future.
When it comes to your home, or your car, or your whatever, it’s fine to take matters into your own hands. You roll the dice on your own ability and accept the coming result. But then there are other times when it’s very much not fine to do that. Saul, the first king of Israel, is a case study in this respect.
Despite having all the promise in the world – he looked like a king, sounded like a king, commanded like a king – the reign of Saul was marked with impatience. Time after time, when he should have exercised restraint he instead charged forward. When he should have exercised faith, he took matters into his own hands. And in 1 Samuel 13, the Lord had enough:
“You have done a foolish thing,” Samuel said. “You have not kept the command the Lord your God gave you; if you had, he would have established your kingdom over Israel for all time. But now your kingdom will not endure; the Lord has sought out a man after his own heart and appointed him ruler of his people, because you have not kept the Lord’s command” (1 Sam. 13:13-14).
So what had he done?
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According to Paul, we should not take matters into our own hands. It’s not that there’s not justice to be served; there very well might be. But it’s not for you or I to administer it because we aren’t capable of doing so in a true and good and noble way. This belongs to the Lord. When we execute our own sense of vengeance, whether big or small, we are expressing our lack of faith that God can and will do it on His own. We are communicating instead that our way is better. But God is just. Justice will be served, and it will be served in a far better and more appropriate way that we could ever deliver it.

Jesus isn’t interested in the minimum. When we have enemies, we might reasonably just try and stay away from them, but Jesus won’t settle for that. He calls us to love them. When we are wondering how many people we reasonably have to love and care for, Jesus won’t settle for that. He calls us to recognize every person in our pathway as a neighbor. When we are wondering just how many of the commands in Scripture reasonably apply to us, Jesus won’t settle for that. He calls us to take up our cross daily and follow Him.
No, Jesus isn’t interested in the minimum of anything. In so many ways, Jesus calls us to the unexpected. Unexpected love, unexpected sacrifice, unexpected loyalty. So it is when we come to the subject of revenge. Here’s how He put it:
You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you (Matt. 5:38-42).
We might reasonably assume that we can give a little payback here and there to those who have wronged us, but here again Jesus pushes us well beyond the minimum. According to Him, not only should we not pay others back for what they’ve done, but we should so forego our need for revenge that we move into generosity. And boy, that’s a hard thing, because we feel that desire down deep in our souls.
We have been treated unfairly, maligned unjustly, and pushed down unkindly, and someone ought to pay for it. How do we deal with that deep down desire for revenge? We fight it with truth – specifically, with truth about who God is. Here are four such truths to snuff out that flickering flame of vengeance in our hearts:
1. God is active.
Saul had been wreaking havoc on the early church. There was a literal trail of bodies in his wake, and he was just getting wound up. But that all changed with a dramatic encounter with Jesus on the Damascus Road and the great enemy of the church became her most ardent advocate.
I’m reminded of how, in those first days after his conversion, the early Christians did not know whether to trust him or not. Who could blame them?
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