Blessings to you on this fine day.

Today’s Kindle deals include a couple of interesting titles.
March Matchups at Logos is on to round 2, so head over and vote.
(Yesterday on the blog: Revival at Asbury: A Cold Take)
George Whitefield Tried to Kill Me
I expect there’s a good number of pastors (and non-pastors) who would benefit from reading this one.
AI is Here: The Precocious Adolescence of Artificial Intelligence
“AI is here. We knew it was coming, but it feels too soon. Like when your little boy’s voice breaks and you suddenly realize he needs deodorant and a shave.” Clint has quite an interesting reflection on AI and ChatGPT here.
The Blessing of Forgiving Our Parents
“Are you convinced yet that you need to forgive? I’ve had some trouble with these verses in the past—not because I was unwilling to forgive, but because I seemed unable to forgive. Especially when it came to those who had inflicted deep wounds in my childhood.”
The Joy of Being Forgiven
This article seems to nicely complement the previous one.
Where do you get that from the text?
This is so important when it comes to studying the Bible and living the Christian life. “It’s a simple little question, isn’t it? Where do you get that from the text? Simple, but effective. Not only effective, but really quite important.”
Are Christians Obligated to Vote?
John Piper considers whether Christians can, should, or must vote.
Flashback: When the Best Part Is the Door
…the pleasures of this life are nothing more than the the foyer, the atrium, the entranceway to much greater joys beyond.

The astonishing surprise at the heart of the universe is not that there is only one way to get to heaven. The astonishing surprise is that there is any way to get to heaven for miserable sinners such as us. —Dane Ortlund

Much has been written about the biblical concept of “meekness.” Many have pointed out that of all the attributes God expects of us, and of all the attributes so wonderfully displayed in Christ, none is so rare as this. Yet perhaps no attribute is quite so difficult to define. What, then, is meekness?

In some ways meekness is best defined by what it is not. Meekness is the opposite of self-assertion, the opposite of acting as if my will should triumph over God’s or even that my will should necessarily triumph over any man’s. It is the opposite of insisting that this world would be a better place if God and man alike just did things my way. Therefore, it is the opposite of grumbling against God’s providence as it’s expressed through circumstances or even through the hands of men.
When Jesus said “blessed are the meek,” he carefully placed this beatitude after two others—after “blessed are those who are poor in spirit” and “blessed are those who mourn.” God’s blessings are upon those who come to him with empty hands—with an awareness that they are fully dependent upon God’s grace. And God’s blessings are upon those who come to him with broken hearts—with deep sorrow over their sin and sinfulness. People who come to God in this way will naturally relate to him with a quiet spirit—with what we know as meekness. And such quietness before God will express itself in kindness and gentleness toward men.
The meek person, then, remembers that he came to God with empty hands; he remembers that he stands before God with a broken heart; and so he has a quiet spirit. He is submissive before God and gentle toward others, especially in sorrows, especially in losses, especially when he’s being led through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. The meek person is gentle toward others even when insulted by them, even when scorned by them, even when harmed by them. He trusts that even if he is distressed and bewildered today, God will eventually make his purpose clear and then he, like God, will judge it all so very good, all so very necessary, all so very wise.
A forest fire rages in Northern Ontario and we see the smoke of it blanket the sun even here in the city. It passes through the trees and seems to have left the land completely devoid of life. But no sooner has the fire gone out and the ground cooled, that new sprouts begin to push up from the ground. There’s life and beauty even amidst the ashes. That’s you and me, Christian, when it seems that God’s providence has scorched and burned us. We submit to him, we submit to his purposes, and we display fresh evidences of his grace even in our sorrow, even with shattered hearts. We act in meekness.
In the orchards outside my city the apple trees are bearing their fruit. And in these weeks of harvest, people like you and me go out into the orchards and ravage those trees. We pick them bare. Does the tree give up? Does it shrivel up and die? No, it just begins the process again so that at next year’s harvest it will once again be full of fruit. That’s you and me, Christian, when people hurt us and harm us and take advantage of us. Even then we display the fruit of the spirit. Even then—especially then—we act in meekness.
It may well be true that no attribute of the Christian is more rare than meekness, but perhaps that is only because no attribute is more precious—and no attribute more consistent with the character of Jesus who is himself the very picture of meekness—who is “gentle and lowly in heart” and who offers precious rest for our souls.

There are different kinds of tired. There are different kinds of weary. There are different kinds of fatigue that may overwhelm the body and overcome the mind as the sun sets, as the skies grow dark, as day gives way to evening and evening gives way to night. There are different kinds of fatigue because there are different ways you may spend a day.

You may spend a day in idleness, in procrastinating your tasks, in ignoring your responsibilities. You may spend a day in indolent selfishness, in giving yourself over to laziness, slothfulness, shiftlessness. You may come to the end of a day having accomplished nothing meaningful because you have attempted nothing meaningful, having performed nothing significant because you set out to undertake nothing significant.
At the close of such a day your mind will be cloudy, your eyes drowsy, your body heavy. But your heart will be uneasy and your conscience will be troubled, for you will have squandered a day—you will have misused what God gave you in trust, failed to steward what God gave you as a gift.
You may also spend a day in activity, in accomplishing your tasks, in embracing your responsibilities. You may spend a day in purposeful motion, in diligently carrying out the duties God has assigned to you. You may come to the end of the day having accomplished much that is meaningful because you attempted much that was meaningful, and having performed much that was significant because you undertook much that was significant.
At the close of such a day your mind may be weary, your feet aching, your body drained. But your heart will be light and your conscience will be clear, for you will have embraced a day—you will have made the most of what God gave you in trust, faithfully stewarded what God gave you as a gift.
A day squandered and a day embraced—both will leave you weary. A day spent in frivolous idleness and a day spent in purposeful activity—both will leave body and mind worn and tired. But a day spent purposefully, a day spent in bringing glory to God by doing good to others—this is a day that will bring pleasure, even as it brings fatigue, this is a day that will bring joy, even as it brings weariness. This is a day you can close by sleeping the sleep of the just, a day you can close with God’s promise fixed in your heart: “when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet” (Proverbs 3:24).