When we sin, if we find our natural reaction to busy ourselves with other tasks—to take a shower and get out of the house and listen to music, that might be an indicator that we are refusing to think of God. But if when we sin, we think of our kind Father, and feel the weight of our guilt, and bow before him, confessing our sin and deciding no longer to hold it dear, then the Father welcomes us into his arms and prepares a banquet for us, clothing us in the finest of robes—the righteousness of Christ.

The biblical authors had weighty things to say about sin. For instance, Paul tells Titus that sinful works can silence and negate professed faith (Titus 1:16). Paul also writes, through tears, that those who set their thoughts on earthly things will eventually be destroyed (Phil 3:19). And the preacher of Hebrews pleads with believers not to be “hardened” by sin (Heb 3:13).
Have you ever stopped to consider what it means that sin “hardens”? If you’ve seen concrete poured, you get the idea. If wet concrete sits for long enough, you can drive a dump truck over it. That’s what happens to sin if it sits on a soul for long enough, baked in by the day-in-day-out little compromises we make. The preacher of Hebrews says one more thing about sin in that verse. He calls it “deceitful.” Sin whispers to us that we have more time before the concrete settles, that our ways are still malleable. But it’s lying.
One of the scariest verses in the New Testament is found a few chapters later in Hebrews. Speaking of Esau, the preacher tells us that after he had given up his birthright, “he found no place for repentance, though he sought for it with tears” (Heb 12:17). This verse tells us a tough reality: Esau tried to repent and couldn’t. The concrete had hardened. And how did this all happen? It must have been an enormous sin that Esau did that would lead him there, right? No. He “sold his birthright for a single meal.” A bowl of stew. It was a moment of immediate gratification. Then another. Then another. Though he eventually realized how far his heart had withered, it was too late. He had become sin’s slave.
And yet, the NT also offers hope to the weary sinner. The letter of 1 John clearly says that believers still wrestle with sin (1:8) and that Christ will “forgive” and “cleanse” those who confess those sins and run to him (1:9).
In his book Spiritual-Mindedness, John Owen asks the question that we, as sin-stained travelers, probably ask after reading what the NT says about sin: “How, then, can one tell the difference between the occasional breaking out of any lust or corruption in the face of temptation, and a person in whom sin still reigns and has dominion?” (90) In other words, how do I know if sin owns me? To put it more bluntly, how hard is the concrete of my heart?
Owen, in a careful and fruitful way, asks questions that probe our hearts.
What are we truly troubled by?
 As we look into our heart and ask the honest question: How do I know if the sin in my life is the “occasional breaking out of lust in the face of temptation or sin still sitting on the throne of my heart?” Owen provides a response: “Quite frankly, it does not matter whether we are able to tell the difference” (90). In other words, we’re asking the wrong question.
The better question is: What are we troubled by? Yes, we may hate the corruption of our hearts. Yes, we may long to be rid of sin. But we would be no different than Esau. The real question is: Do we hate our sin and long to be rid of it because it is sinful, or because of what will happen if our sin is found out (90–91)? Are we humbled by the filth that still lingers in our soul or scared of its consequences? Are our tears and pangs of conscience no more than first cries over the things we’re about to lose as a consequence of our actions?
As depraved humans grimacing through the consequences of our sinful hearts, the sad reality is that we can be selfish even in our sorrow. Here’s the critical test: Are we willing to accept all the consequences for our sin as kindnesses from the Lord? If we are, that’s a good sign that what troubles us is missing sweet communion with our Father, not the things he might pull from our hand.
Owen presses further. He asks his readers what they think of death. Has sin become such a thorn in our lives that the thought of death is pleasant because it means waving goodbye to sin once and for all (92)?
Read More

Every aspect of your life story is underscored and interwoven with God’s love. You and I never “move on” from remembering and basking in his steadfast love. We never graduate from the school of his love. It’s the spiritual air we breathe, the oxygen we need as we embrace blessings, endure hardship, and wrestle with sin. How much we need to count on the reality that he’s set his love upon us no matter what, and that he is truly working all things for good for those he fiercely loves.

­Does the love of God still feel like breaking news in your life? If we’re honest, sometimes the “old, old story” seems, well, old to us, particularly if we’ve been a Christian for many years. But the writers of Scripture never tire of recounting this theme. They never take it for granted.
Psalm 136 gives us a vivid picture of what keeping God’s steadfast love front and center looks like in the life story of God’s people. It begins with thanksgiving to God (v.1–3) and recites Israel’s history from the creation of the world (v.4–9), through the exodus (v.10–16), and into the promised land (v.17–22). In fact, there are several other psalms that rehearse Israel’s story, including Psalms 78, 105, 106, and 135. But Psalm 136 is unique for the phrase that is repeated in every single verse—a total of 26 times!—“for his steadfast love endures forever.”
In one sense, the story reads more smoothly without the refrain. Just try reading the first half of each verse aloud and skip the refrain, and you will see that it’s quite coherent. Doing this, however, would subvert the inspired poet’s aim, which we start to grasp when we read it aloud all the way through. Try it now. What do you notice? Did the refrain sometimes feel like overkill to you? Did you find yourself impatient to get through the psalm? Were you bored and thinking by the end, “Yeah, yeah, I know.” I’ve certainly experienced that as I’ve read this psalm in the past, but in my most recent reading, I took time to consider: What is the psalmist’s point in keeping this refrain front and center throughout?
In fact, the refrain serves as a spiritual speed bump. It slows us down. Its repetition draws our attention again and again to God. It reminds us that absolutely everything that happened in Israel’s history is purposeful and is tethered to the steadfast love of God. Creation. Rescue from slavery. Sustenance in the wilderness. Inheritance of the promised land. Through good and bad, thick and thin, sin and suffering, God is accomplishing his good purposes in his people.
Read More
Related Posts:

The gospel of Jesus’ death and resurrection teaches us that we’re greater sinners than we can ever imagine. It also teaches us that our salvation is greater than we can ever imagine. Therefore, it teaches us how to relate to others. It enables us to forgive even those we see as our worst enemies; after all, in Christ, we ourselves have been forgiven even more. Reconciliation with God brings reconciliation with others. This is how the blood of Christ overcomes hostility. But we need to “remember” it (verse 11). We need to remember God’s grace. We need to remember that though we once were far away, we’ve now been brought close (verse 13).

As the Israel-Gaza war rages, with all the tragic death and suffering it entails, many pressing concerns naturally spring to our minds. Why is the situation so dire? Who is to blame for the suffering? And what are our political leaders doing about it? I can’t begin to answer all these questions in this short article. But I want to point us to something that will help us: the cross of Jesus Christ. How does it help? I’m convinced that the message of the cross gives us a deep foundation and a vital framework for making sense of issues of conflict in our world as well as in our lives.
I’m taking my cue here from the apostle Paul. In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul directly raises the issue of conflict with Israel. And he immediately answers the issue by reminding his readers of something that has brought peace: the cross of Christ. (Here, I’m summarising and paraphrasing some key points from my online text and audio series on Ephesians called Lift Your Eyes; you can find more details there if you want to follow it up).
Just to be clear, I don’t believe the modern state of Israel is identical to ancient Israel—either politically or theologically. Yet I am convinced that what Paul says about this situation of ancient conflict in Israel is still highly relevant to us today whenever we face situations of conflict—including the present and pressing conflict in Israel.
Israel, Conflict and Hostility
Ephesians 2:11–12 is about the ancient conflict between Israel and “gentiles” (non-Israelites). This hostility is described in many places in the Old Testament. It continued into the time of Jesus and Paul in the first century when the Roman Empire occupied the land.
One of the ways this hostility manifested itself was through verbal abuse on both sides. Jewish circumcision was commented on and laughed at by various non-Jewish people. On the other side, various Jewish people called gentiles the “uncircumcision” (literally, “the foreskin”) as a term of abuse (you can imagine modern equivalents, can’t you?) Paul refers to this hostile name-calling in verse 11.
But it wasn’t just name-calling. For some Jewish people living under the Roman Empire, the “Christ” (or “Messiah”) was seen as God’s hoped-for military and political vindicator of Israel against the gentile oppressors. They read Old Testament prophetic hopes in terms of national military victory (see, for example, Psalms of Solomon 17). At times, those ideas erupted into direct conflict between Jews and gentiles. Paul is probably referring to those ideas, at least in the background, in verse 12.
The Answer: The Cross
How, then, does Paul address these issues of hostility and conflict? We might expect that he would face it head on by pointing to some human solution, such as a military plan, a political compromise, or a philosophical appeal to shared humanity. But he doesn’t. Instead, he points squarely to God’s solution: “the blood of Christ.” Jesus’ death on the cross, he says, brings peace in the face of hostility:
But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility (Ephesians 2:13–14)
Read More
Related Posts: