"Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is." —Ephesians 5:15-17
“Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching men.” Luke 5:10
And pulling them from bondage to freedom, from darkness to light, from death to life, from hell to heaven, from Satan to Christ.
#OTD June 15, 1520:
In the papal encyclical Exsurge Domine, Leo X condemns Martin Luther on 41 of counts of heresy, branding him an enemy of the Roman Catholic Church. After the encyclical, Luther's works were burned in Rome.
If you and your church were to disappear off the face of the earth tomorrow, would anyone in the community around you notice you were gone? ...And if the community did even notice would they say “we are really glad they are gone”, or “we are really going to miss them.
#church
“Why are you treating me this way? What did I ever do to deserve this?” That complaint summarizes what Moses, Job, and Jeremiah said to God.
When things were falling apart in the wilderness, and the Israelites were bellyaching and weeping, Moses cried out, “Why have you treated your servant so badly?” (Num. 11:11). When Job lost his possessions, his health, and his children, he cursed the day of his birth and hurled Why? Why? Why? toward heaven.
Jeremiah does the same in Jeremiah 15, which we read today in Bible in One Year. Echoing Job, he turns Happy Birthday into Woeful Birthday. He feels born only to be a burr under the saddle to everyone around him. It’s not as if he’s been a provocative evildoer. He has simply been a faithful prophet. But no good prophet goes un-persecuted.
Jesus says, “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake” and “Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you” (Matt. 5:10–11). Indeed, they persecuted the prophets, prophets like Jeremiah.
But Jeremiah was not rejoicing and being glad. He was lamenting and being sad.
Persecution comes in many forms, from mocking to martyrdom. Most Christians will not be martyred, but few disciples of Jesus have escaped ridicule for remaining faithful to the Lord and his Word.
When things do not improve, and especially when they get worse, it is not hard to understand why Jeremiah accuses God of being “like a deceitful brook, like waters that fail” (Jer. 15:18).
When we long for a cold drink of hope from heaven, sometimes we get a mouthful of sand instead.
But God answers Jeremiah with grace and steel. “If you return, I will restore you” (Jer. 15:19). He promises to make him “a fortified wall of bronze” (15:20).
The sweetest and most joy-filled words God saves for near the end: “For I am with you to save you and deliver you, declares the Lord” (15:20). You bet he is, for the “I-am-with-You” God is Jesus the Emmanuel, the one who comes to save us and deliver us.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because they are thereby united with the One who was persecuted unto death, died that death, and rose from the grave, so that, no matter how lukewarm or hot the persecution we face, we know that we are safe in Jesus, for “who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?... I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8:35, 38-39).
#OTD June 9, 1834:
William Carey, often called "the father of modern Protestant missions" dies, having spent 41 years in India without a furlough. His mission could count only about 700 converts, but he had laid a foundation of Bible translations, education, and social reform. He also inspired the missionary movement of the nineteenth century, especially with his cry, "Expect great things; attempt great things"
Anyone who's tended a rosebush knows the thorns get your attention long before the blooms do. They prick, they catch, they draw blood. And it's tempting — so tempting — to define the whole plant by what hurts.
But hope insists on a different focus. It doesn't deny the thorns. It just refuses to let them be the final word. Beneath every painful season, God is cultivating something fragrant. Something worth waiting for. Something that wouldn't exist without the very soil that feels so hard right now.
What "fragrance of hope" are you holding onto today?
When people complain to God, he does not always put his arm around them and comfort them. Sometimes he gives them a swift kick in the pants.
To Job, he says, “Dress for action like a man” (Job 38:3). After the prophet Jeremiah has been whining about the prosperity of the wicked, the Lord says, “If you have raced with men on foot, and they have wearied you, how will you compete with horses?” (Jer. 12:5).
In other words, Jeremiah, if you are already worn out by this level of opposition, what are you going to do when things really heat up? If you are moaning and groaning about the burden you have to carry now, how will you handle it when the road gets steeper, and the cross gets heavier?
Do you want to run with horses or shuffle with sloths?
The same question confronts us. If we are constantly grumbling over small inconveniences, small sufferings, small acts of obedience, how will we endure when true trials come? How will we follow Jesus down the hard road of costly discipleship?
Yes, there are many times when we need the Lord to put his arm around us, bind up our wounds, and speak tenderly to us. And he does. But there are also times when we need him to shake us awake, get in our face, and rebuke our spiritual laziness and self-pity. And he does that, too.
Do we want easy, spiritually apathetic lives? Or do we want the long, difficult, but deeply blessed life of running with horses on the path Christ has set before us?
So let us hear the exhortation: “Let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance [run with horses!] the race that is set before us” (Heb. 12:1).
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We read Jeremiah 12 today in Bible in One Year. Join us at https://t.co/XxNvEtNH7e
Blink and you will miss some masterful biblical interpretation and preaching in 1 Corinthians 1. Paul the Apostle is also Professor Paul the Bible Teacher.
Paul exemplifies how Jewish interpretation often worked. At the end of 1 Corinthians 1, he quotes a little section of Jeremiah 9:24, “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.” It can seem like almost a throwaway line, a kind of proverbial truth.
But, no. That little quote is an outstretched hand, fingers beckoning us, inviting us to walk backward to Jeremiah 9 and the surrounding verses.
See how Paul echoes and expands what Jeremiah says:
Jeremiah: Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom (9:23).
Paul: God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise (1:27).
Jeremiah: Let not the mighty man boast in his might (9:23).
Paul: God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong (1:27).
Jeremiah: Let not the rich man boast in his riches (9:23).
Paul: God chose what is low and despised in the world (1:28).
Jeremiah: I am the LORD who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness (9:24).
Paul: Christ Jesus became to us wisdom from God, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption (1:30).
Finally, having mirrored Jeremiah point by point (without ever telling us), Paul concludes by finally explicitly quoting the prophet, “As it is written, ‘Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord'” (1 Cor. 1:31).
It’s easy to miss what Paul has done, but not if you know Jeremiah 9. And even if you didn’t know Jeremiah 9, Paul’s quote from that chapter should send us running back to the broader context.
When we do, we see that the apostle has been interpreting and preaching on the Old Testament, using Jeremiah as the basis for preaching the cross of our Lord Jesus.
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We read Jeremiah 9 today in Bible in One Year. Join us at https://t.co/XxNvEtNH7e
We live in a noisy world. Podcasts, headlines, well-meaning friends, viral takes — voices come at us from every direction, often dressed up in spiritual language. Even the people who love us most can sometimes hand us advice that sounds caring but doesn't quite line up with truth. So how do we know what to trust?
There's only one voice that never shifts with the cultural wind, never gives bad counsel, and never leads us astray. Scripture is our anchor — the steady measuring line we hold every other word against. That doesn't mean we stop listening to others. It means we filter what we hear through what God has already said.
What's a passage that's been steadying you lately?
We sometimes get the warped impression that we have to fight hard to win God’s love. Like he’s a Divine Dad who, try as we might, never seems happy with us. A disapproving frown drags his face down. He is a cold, distant parent whose affections we crave but from whom a single “I love you” is heard once in a blue moon.
If that is your impression of our heavenly Father, then let Hosea’s words press upon you a different vision: “I will heal their apostasy; I will love them freely, for my anger has turned from them” (14:4). In this closing chapter of Hosea, the prophet is calling his people to come home to God, to return to the one from whom they have walked away.
And what will God do? Heal their apostasy. Bind up their self-wounded souls. And he will “love them freely.” Ah, such golden words!
The Hebrew for “freely” is נְדָבָה (n’davah). It's the same word used for the "freewill" or "voluntary" offerings of Israel. Unbound, unforced, God freely loves. This love is not caused by Israel’s repentance; it calls it forth. As Paul will later write, “God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance” (Rom. 2:4).
Freely, God rejoices over you for you are in his Son.
Freely, our Father smiles when he looks at you.
Freely, our Lord forgives, sustains, and will never tire of loving you.
You don’t have to fight hard to win God’s love. That love preceded your very existence.
God never started loving you because he has loved you with an everlasting love that knows neither beginning nor end. As John writes, "God is love" (1 John 4:8).
That love sent Jesus to reconcile you to himself. That love draws you into the very life of God.
Our Father says, “I will love them freely.” Thank you, Father. We love and praise you for your love and mercy toward us, given freely and abundantly in Christ.
There are some disagreements about “contextualization.” I see it as adapting your message to be understandable and compelling to particular hearers without compromising the truth in any way. Why contextualize? First, because everyone does it. As soon as you choose a language to speak in, a vocabulary, and illustrations, and arguments, you are adapting to some human hearers more than others. If you don’t become conscious of how you are contextualizing—which is inevitable--you won’t
contextualize well.
Second, because Paul contextualizes in his speeches. Compare how he presents to Bible-believers in Acts 13, blue-collar pagans in Acts 14 & then educated pagans in Acts 17.
Third, because the Biblical writers contextualized. See John’s use of Greek philosophy’s “Logos” in John 1. Also, see the use of the Hittite suzerain treaty form in the book of Deuteronomy; see Paul’s contextualization of the gospel to Greek and Jewish cultural narratives in 1 Cor 1:22-24.
Fourth, because Paul calls us to contextualization without compromise in 1 Cor 9:19-23.
Fifth, because the incarnation itself was a kind of contextualizing, so we could understand—the Word made flesh. TL;DR- Don't argue that we shouldn't do this (everyone does it). Unless we are conscious of *how* we are contextualizing, we won't do it well.
Christianity has far too many voices that would have us believe in a God who doesn’t wound us. But the Lord declares otherwise: “See now that I, even I, am he, and there is no god beside me; I kill and I make alive; I wound and I heal” (Dt. 32:39).
Or as we read today in Bible in One Year from Hosea, “Come, let us return to the LORD; for he has torn us, that he may heal us; he has struck us down, and he will bind us up. After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will raise us up, that we may live before him” (6:1-2).
Verses like these are summarized perfectly by Proverbs 3:12, “The LORD disciplines the one he loves” (see Hebrews 12:6).
Would a loving parent let a child get away with everything? Pour rat poison into his cereal? Run onto an interstate? Play with a loaded pistol? Of course not. That is the definition of unloving parenting.
So with our Father. He disciplines us because he cares for us. He knows that we often learn hard but necessary lessons only in our woundedness.
Our Father knows that it is only in our weakness and woundedness that we simultaneously discover our own ineptitude and his healing power. Without wounds, we foster an image of ourselves as strong and healthy.
But the hands that wound us—they themselves bear the stigmata of grace. Our Savior kills, but only to make alive; wounds, but only to heal. He is conforming us to his cruciform likeness so that we see ourselves exclusively in his resurrection reflection.
This is Christian growth: to become in our weakness more and more dependent on his strength, to seek in our woundedness more and more of his healing.
The Transfiguration of Jesus is humming with Old Testament language, themes, and imagery.
It begins with the setting. In Matthew 17:1–8, the phrase “after six days” echoes Moses waiting six days on Sinai before God spoke from the cloud (Exod. 24:16).
The “high mountain” recalls Sinai, Moriah, Nebo, and other sacred peaks where God revealed himself. It also evokes Isaiah 40:9: “Go on up to a high mountain…[and proclaim] “Behold your God!”
From the outset, the scene invites us to read this theophany—indeed, the entire New Testament!—with Hebrew glasses on.
As the event unfolds, those connections broaden and deepen. Jesus’ face shines, recalling Moses’ radiant face after encountering God (Exod. 34:29), but here the glory in Jesus is not reflected; it is intrinsic to him. The imagery also resonates with Ezekiel’s vision of the radiant man on God’s throne (Ezek. 1:26–28).
Then Moses and Elijah appear, representing the Law and the Prophets, the whole witness of Israel’s Scriptures. They speak with Jesus about his coming “exodus” (Luke 9:31), a word crowded with meaning, pointing to the new and greater act of redemption.
Peter responds by suggesting three tabernacles. Though Luke notes he didn’t know what he was saying, his impulse echoes both the wilderness tabernacle and the Feast of Booths, when Israel dwelt in tents to remember their years in the wilderness with God.
While Peter is still speaking, a cloud overshadows them, the familiar sign of God’s presence from the Exodus (13:21-22; 40:34-38). Then comes the divine voice: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him” (Matt. 17:5). In that single sentence, God weaves together threads from Psalm 2:7, Genesis 22:2, Isaiah 42:1, and Deuteronomy 18:15. The Father gathers the Scriptures into one declaration and directs all attention to his Son.
Everything converges in the Transfiguration. The Law, the Prophets, the exodus, the mountain, the cloud, all find their fulfillment in Jesus.
Look to him and him alone for the full revelation of God.
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For more on this topic, see my book, The Christ Key: Unlocking the Centrality of Christ in the Old Testament, https://t.co/AbNV4FCcZ5