Devotions

The parable of the prodigal provides a powerful illustration of the acceptance that comes when we’re given a heavenly position in Christ. You know the story. A young man took his inheritance from his father and squandered it on sinful living. Once the son had became completely bankrupt morally, emotionally and physically, he thought of his father. He was convinced he’d lost all favor with him.

Scripture tells us that this broken young man was full of grief over his sin and cried out, “I’m unworthy. I’ve sinned against heaven.” This represents those who come to repentance through godly sorrow.

The prodigal told himself, “I will arise and go to my father” (Luke 15:18). He was exercising his blessing of access. Are you getting the picture? This young man turned from his sin, left the world behind and accessed the open door his father had promised him. He was walking in repentance.

What happened to the Prodigal Son? “When he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him” (Luke 15:20). What a beautiful scene! The sinful son was forgiven, embraced and loved by his father with no wrath or condemnation whatsoever. When he received his father’s kiss, he knew he was accepted.

A great blessing becomes ours when we’re made to sit in heavenly places. What is this blessing? It’s the privilege of acceptance, as Paul wrote, “He made us accepted in the beloved [Christ]” (Ephesians 1:6, NKJV). The Greek word for “accepted” means highly favored. That’s different from the English usage, which can be interpreted to mean “received as adequate.” This signifies something that can be endured with an attitude of “I can live with it.”

That’s not the case with Paul’s use of the word. His use of “accepted” translates as, “God has highly favored us because of our place in Christ.” Because God accepted Christ’s sacrifice, he now sees only one corporate man: Christ and those who are bound to him by faith. Our flesh has died in God’s eyes. How? Jesus did away with our old nature at the Cross. Now when God looks at us, he sees only Christ. In turn, we need to learn to see ourselves as God does. That means not focusing solely on our sins and weaknesses but on the victory that Christ won for us.

Put yourself in Paul’s shoes for just a minute. Somebody arrives to give you a report; maybe it's Timothy or Titus. Paul asks, “What do the people of Corinth think of me anyway?” They tell him, “They think your letters are weighty.” Maybe Paul thinks, “Wow, that's cool. They kind of like me.” The review doesn’t stop there, unfortunately. Apparently, people in the Corinth church were saying, “‘His letters are weighty and strong, but his bodily presence is weak, and his speech of no account.’” (2 Corinthians 10:10, ESV). Basically, they were saying that his letters were forceful, but he was unimpressive in person, and his speaking amounted to nothing.

How would you like to have your livelihood, your whole life, be spoken about that way? You're loving God, working in your ministry and serving others; then the report about you is “You're not very impressive.”

Paul had the opportunity to let that lie get into his soul. He could have given up and said, “Wow, I've been working so hard and trying to bless these people, and I guess I just don't have what it takes.” Or he could’ve gone the other direction and said, “You know what? I refuse to believe that lie. When I come to you, I'm going to make sure you see how bold and how impressive I can be. I'm going to prove to you!”

It's tempting to have one of those two responses. We either give up and abandon God’s call, or we fight back. The second one sometimes feels more holy, but what are we really doing then? We’re taking on human anger, trying to resolve Satan’s lie with our own strength.

Paul didn’t do either. He understood the truth, that he was not called to fight back in the flesh. He wrote, “’Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.’ For it is not the one who commends himself who is approved, but the one whom the Lord commends” (2 Corinthians 10:17-18). Paul knew that trying to commend himself or fix things in his own strength would never work. He understood the reality of our struggles in life. “For though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds” (2 Corinthians 10:3-4).

When a baby is born, the baby's usually screaming and crying. A newborn wants the mother's milk, and if it's uncomfortable, it'll cry even louder. These are not signs of trouble. The nurses don't worry when the baby is hungry, crying, wants to be cleaned or wants mom. Those are signs of health. If the baby is not screaming, not hungry, doesn't want his mother and just lays there quietly, they call in doctors and experts because something's wrong.

No one has to teach a newborn to cry for food. No one teaches a baby to want the mother. That's the instinct of life.

The same holds true spiritually. When you're born again, your soul begins to hunger for the Word of God. No one has to teach you to long for the Lord. This beautiful happening was described in the early church. “They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers” (Acts 2:42, ESV). Why? Because the new life inside of them created a hunger and thirst for God’s presence and instruction.

There's the first snapshot of the church. They were truly born again. How do we know that? How do we know in general when people are born again? People come to the church; they may even come to the altar, but how do you know when they're really converted? Well, you'll know them by their fruits. There is a new instinct in these believers; they want to hear the Word of Christ.

The problem today is that instead of the church converting the culture, the culture is converting the church. This is why some churches have secular music on before services. People try to rationalize it by saying, "You got to meet people where they are.” Even dubious language is used by ministers under the justification of "Well, you got to keep it real and use curse words.”

God has been building his church for 2000 years, and no one's ever had to do those things to reach the lost and ignite this hunger for God in people’s souls. All we need is for the gospel to be delivered by people who believe in that message and who carry the love of Christ for the lost in their heart. The simple gospel spoken with the power of the Holy Spirit is enough to change any life. The Spirit awakens a hunger in the hearts of every believer.

^{Jim Cymbala began the Brooklyn Tabernacle with less than twenty members in a small, rundown building in a difficult part of the city. A native of Brooklyn, he is a longtime friend of both David and Gary Wilkerson.}

I am convinced people lose hope because they’ve first lost faith. They have heard many sermons and read many books, but they see examples all around of shipwrecked faith. Christians who once espoused the gospel are now giving up their trust in God. Where do people turn for hope? The Spirit once said to me, “You have to anchor your faith. Set your heart to trust God in everything, at all times.”

To “set” our faith means to “stabilize, set down roots, lay a foundation.” Scripture says it is within our power to do this. James writes, “But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for he who doubts is like a wave of the sea driven and tossed by the wind. For let not that man suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord” (James 1:6-7, NKJV). In this passage, the Lord lays the whole responsibility on the believer.

God is telling us, in essence, “When the world looks at my people in these days of trembling and anxiety, they have to be able to see faith. While everything is shaking, faith is what must remain solid and stable. So anchor your faith. Christian, take a fixed position. Never give up that position.”

I’m convinced that the world doesn’t need more sermons on faith. They need to see an illustration, the life of a man or woman who’s living out their faith before the world. They need to see servants of God go through the same calamities they’re facing and not be shaken. David described this when he spoke of “those who trust in you (the Lord) in the presence of the sons of men” (Psalm 31:19). He was talking about believers whose strong trust in Christ is a beam of hope to those in darkness.

When you determine to set your faith on Christ, you are going to be severely tested. Once, when I was in the process of laying my burdens on the Lord and setting an enduring faith, I received a phone call with news that shook me. For a moment, a flood of fear swept over me. Then the Holy Spirit gently whispered, “Don’t give up your faith. I’ve got everything under control. Just stand steadfast.” I will never forget the peace that flooded through me at that moment. By day’s end, my heart was full of joy.

As Christians, we are quick to offer the grace of our Lord to the world, but we often parcel it out meagerly to ourselves. To me, this is the most difficult part of forgiveness.

Consider King David, who committed adultery and then murdered the husband to cover up his offense. When his sin was exposed, David repented, and the Lord sent the prophet Nathan to tell him, “Your sin has been pardoned.” Even though David knew he was forgiven, he had lost his joy. He prayed, “Make me hear joy and gladness, that the bones you have broken may rejoice. …Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me by your generous Spirit” (Psalm 51:8,12, NKJV).

Why was David so disturbed? This man had been justified before the Lord, and he had peace through God’s promise of forgiveness. It’s possible to have your sins blotted out of God’s ledgers but not out of your conscience. David wrote this psalm because he wanted his conscience to stop condemning him for his sins. David couldn’t forgive himself. Now he was enduring the penalty for holding onto unforgiveness, an unforgiveness directed toward himself, and that was a loss of joy. The joy of the Lord comes to us as a fruit of accepting his forgiveness.

I have been greatly impacted by the biography of Hudson Taylor. Taylor was one of the most effective missionaries in history, a godly man of prayer who established churches throughout China’s vast interior. Despite this, he ministered for years without joy. He was downcast over his struggles, agonizing over secret longings and thoughts of unbelief.

In 1869, Taylor experienced a revolutionary change. He saw that Christ had all he needed, yet none of his own tears or repenting could release those blessings in him. Taylor recognized there was only one way to Christ’s fullness: faith. Every promise God had made with man required faith. Taylor became determined to stir up his faith, yet even that effort proved vain. Finally, in his darkest hour, the Holy Spirit gave him a revelation that faith comes not by striving but by resting on the promises of God. That is the secret of tapping into all of Christ’s blessings.

Taylor forgave himself for the sins that Christ had said were already cast into the sea. Because he rested on God’s promises, he was able to become a joyous servant, continually casting all his cares on the Lord.