Devotions

Of all the sins we can commit, doubt is the one most hated by God. According to both Old and New Testaments, our doubting grieves the Lord, provokes Him, causes Him much pain. We see a prime example of this in ancient Israel after God had delivered His people from the hands of Pharaoh.

The Psalmist laments, "We have sinned with our fathers, we have committed iniquity, we have done wickedly. Our fathers understood not thy wonders in Egypt; they remembered not the multitude of thy mercies; but provoked him at the sea, even at the Red Sea" (Psalm 106:6-7).

The writer is making a confession here. What was the wicked sin that Israel had committed? It was their doubt that God would further deliver them, even after He had performed an incredible miracle for them at the Red Sea.

The psalmist is asking us to imagine God's people as they stood rejoicing on the victory side of the sea. The Lord had just performed one of the greatest miracles in the history of humankind, delivering Israel from the mighty Egyptians. Yet, how did these same people react as they faced hardship afterward? They doubted God's faithfulness.

The writer is saying, essentially, "Can you believe it? Our Lord had moved supernaturally on our behalf, delivering us from the enemy. Yet, even after this incredible miracle, we mistrusted Him. How could we ever provoke God that way?"

It was a different story altogether when Israel stood on the victory side of the sea. They sang and danced as they watched the mighty Egyptian army sink to destruction: "He rebuked the Red Sea also, and it was dried up: so he led them through the depths, as through the wilderness. And he saved them from the hand of him that hated them, and redeemed them from the hand of the enemy. And the waters covered their enemies: there was not one of them left. Then believed they his words; they sang his praise" (Psalm 106:9-12).

The Israelites sang the right song—a song of praise to almighty God—but they sang it on the wrong side of the sea. Anyone can sing and rejoice after they have the victory. But Israel had failed miserably on the testing side of the Red Sea. There they hadn't trusted God at all.

Most of us equate power with something visible, flashy, earthshaking. Yet this doesn't hold true with spiritual authority. Peter says God entrusts spiritual authority to “the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit" (1 Peter 3:4).

The Greek word that Peter uses for meekness means gentleness. And the word used for quietness means assured, undisturbed. Peter is speaking of a heart that is always at peace with its position in Christ. Such a heart possesses real spiritual authority.

Of course, this flies in the face of all secular philosophies about power and authority. The world tells us, "Assert yourself! Use power through intimidation. Make eye contact, use body language, stare others down. Put your own needs first." We see this attitude reflected on the album covers of today's music groups. Band members scowl, menace, "get in your face." They equate such posture with having authority.

Our attitude as believers is completely different. We pursue power and authority for one purpose only: to put Satan to flight. We want to be able to stand up to his attacks on our lives, our churches, our families. And we must acknowledge that without a spirit of meekness and quietness in our hidden man, we have no real power.

David writes, "Thy right hand hath holden me up, and thy gentleness hath made me great" (Psalm 18:35). The phrase "made me great" here means "abundantly increased my mercy for others." David is stating, "Lord, your gentleness toward me has increased my own capacity for mercy."

Think about what David is saying here. This king had doubted God's faithfulness to Israel. He had committed adultery and then even murdered a man to cover up his own sin. Yet the Lord showed David incredible mercy and forgiveness.

David was overwhelmed by how gentle and loving God was toward him during this terrible period. And now he said, "The Lord has been so tender in dealing with me. How could I ever be hard on anybody who goes through what I endured? God's grace toward me has enlarged my heart so now I want to show tenderness toward others—to my spouse, my children, everyone."

Paul speaks of our having an inward man (see Romans 7:22). To the Corinthian church Paul said, "Though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day" (2 Corinthians 4:16). Indeed, there are two such selves in all of us. There is both an outward man and an inner, hidden man. The outward man is always on display before others but the hidden man is known only by God. This inner man doesn't display himself conspicuously. He resides where nobody else can see the work being done in him. And the Holy Ghost is constantly at work in him, strengthening and preparing him to receive true spiritual authority.

Peter illustrates this duality in us by giving us the example of a certain woman. This woman is decked out in finery, wearing the latest hairstyle and all manner of jewelry, rings, bracelets, chains. She's a living, breathing example of flesh appealing to flesh.

“Whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel; but let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price” (1 Peter 3:3-4).

It's clear that Peter is speaking here of the backslidden church. This church operates in the flesh, basing everything on outward appearances. It has no inner holiness and therefore no real authority. Tragically, many Christians are attracted to this kind of church. They're impressed by flashy services that possess nothing of God's true glory.

Please don't misunderstand: Peter isn't asking any Christian woman to throw away her makeup kit. Rather, he's saying, "If you want to move in spiritual authority, then stop trying to impress others by how you look or act. Instead, focus on the hidden person. That's the only way to obtain Christ's authority."

Over a hundred years ago, a French inventor came up with a marvelous innovation called motion pictures. He learned that by organizing a sequence of photographs and moving them quickly in front of a bright light, it gave the impression of real life being lived before his eyes.

This inventor knew he was onto something special, so he scheduled a premiere for what would be one of the most famous public showings of a movie ever. Expectations were high as dignitaries and guests filled the auditorium. The film, “Arrival of a Train at a Station,” was only fifty seconds long, but it had a powerful impact—too powerful, in fact. It showed a train chugging directly toward the camera, and some historians state that when the people saw it, they panicked. With no context for their experience, they thought an actual train was about to run over them!

Yet it was all an illusion! The people were convinced their lives were in danger when in reality what they experienced was mere smoke and mirrors.

This is the trick Satan plays on us whenever our faith is challenged. At such times, our needs seem to outweigh our resources. It looks like our God-given dream will be destroyed by a runaway train. That’s when the devil tells us, “It’s over. This is too much for you.” But the “reality” that Satan presents is superficial. The truth is, Jesus is greater than any hardship we face. He holds our reality in His hands, and that reality is victory.

When all seems lost in the face of an oncoming problem, Jesus tells us not to flee but to “sit down” (see John 6:10).

As Jesus faced a large, hungering crowd, “He himself knew what he would do” (John 6:6). Christ’s confidence was based on His sense of God’s reality behind every situation. And so He instructed the disciples, “Have the people sit down, because the Father is about to meet this need. It’s time to trust Him to provide all that this situation requires.”

Friend, God is sufficient for every circumstance we may face.

From the moment I gave my heart to Jesus, I have known how little I was capable of bringing to our relationship. There are so many people more talented than me, more eloquent in the pulpit, smoother in their delivery, more knowledgeable in theology. People with greater gifts to lay at the feet of Jesus. But what I do bring is a heart that is completely and wholly sold out to His kindness! I’m so in love with Jesus that at times I feel as if my chest will burst from my body. My bones aren’t large enough to contain my adoration. My vocabulary can’t express the depth of my worship! My words can never do justice to the love and devotion I feel in my heart. There are times when I cry in agony because I can’t fully express my love!

When I read the psalms of David, I feel such a kinship. I wish I had his ability to communicate his feelings for God with such eloquence and grace. I wish I could write as he does. Play the harp as he could play. I can’t say that I share his talent, but I do think I share his heart. I know what he was going through. I understand what he must have felt, sitting alone in his cold, dark palace, longing for simpler days. Longing for God’s nearness and favor.

And that’s why God loved him so. That’s why God called David a man after His own heart.

Can you imagine a greater compliment? Can you think of something God could possible say about someone to bring more weight? God loved David’s heart. He connected with him. The two were one in the most intimate and powerful way possible. God related to David, not because of his looks or deeds or strength, but because of the state of his heart. The love in his spirit.
Is there a higher level of communion with our Creator? Can a person get any closer to God than to share the intimacy and thoughts of his heart? Don’t we all long to have God say to us, “I love your heart”?

Nicky Cruz, internationally known evangelist and prolific author, turned to Jesus Christ from a life of violence and crime after meeting David Wilkerson in New York City in 1958. The story of his dramatic conversion was told first in The Cross and the Switchblade by David Wilkerson and then later in his own best-selling book Run, Baby, Run.