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Tested and Tried

Plato attributes the famous saying, “Know thyself” (Γνώθι σεατόν) to fellow Greek philosopher and mentor, Socrates. Socrates’ notion seems to be the preoccupation of the privileged, an activity of leisure. Not so. Consider what Paul had to say to the church at Corinth when preparing to visit them:
“Examine yourselves; to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you?” (2 Corinthians 13:5, ESV)
While Plato was using Socrates’ teaching to make some philosophical point to other philosophers, Paul was writing to ordinary people, some of them really messed up and in need of transformation, in order to give them means to remain strong in the faith, to make a daily choice to stand.
To examine and test one’s soul is no easy task. Says commentator Simon J. Kistemaker: “True faith is active and constantly forces Christians to test themselves to see whether Jesus Christ through the Holy spirit lives in their hearts. True faith testifies to intimate fellowship with the Father and the Son (I John 1:3).” (Emphasis mine.)
Yet this intimate fellowship we have with the Father and the Son draws us into deeper, more challenging testing. This fellowship takes us beyond our own conscience, placing us in the domain of the Father’s testing us. Consider what is written in Deuteronomy 8:2-3: “And you shall remember the whole way that the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, that he might humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep his commandments or not. And he humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that he might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.”
When we examine or test ourselves, we find either affirmation that we are in Christ or not. When God the Father tests us, he humbles us, removes our mistaken ideas that we exist on the merit of our own strength and genius, to see whether or not we will still follow him when it doesn’t make us look good in the eyes of those around us. What pride can we possibly derive from being fed and watered and lead, helpless and needy?
We are prone toward pride and independence, are we not? Hence the warning in verses 17-18: “Beware lest you say in your heart, ‘My power and the might of my hand have gotten me this wealth.’ You shall remember the Lord your God, for it is he who gives you power to get wealth, that he may confirm his covenant that he swore to your fathers, as it is this day.”
It can be easy to become discouraged in times of testing, misinterpreting the purpose of the test. We can feel attacked, forgotten, isolated, devalued. We can fall into the Satanic trap of feeling less than zero. But, in this case, truth trumps emotion.
Deuteronomy 8:16 indicates that God humbles us to do us good. He can use broken, submitted, humble servants: those are qualities ascribed to Jesus’ time in the flesh, on the earth. Our pilgrimage is to become Christ-like is it not?
Should you choose to take up the mission to shake the gates of Hell in your generation, you must take up the habit of examining and testing yourself, to see whether or not you are in the faith. You must take up the habit of submitting to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit that Jesus might be represented well in this generation, that those who have ears to hear might receive the gospel, that those who choose to reject Him will do so not on the basis of ignorance, but having been informed of what they choose to reject. Friend, “Know thy faith.”


[1] Kistemaker, Simon J. New Testament Commentary: 2 Corinthians. Pg. 450. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 1997.

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Beyond Baca

When I was young, the thought of moving to the edge of the world and shaking things up was attractive. Whether I had some innate need to prove to God (or other Christians) the extent of my devotion or I just wanted to do something meaningful with the days given me remains a mystery. In my immaturity, it was probably a bit of both.

Perhaps I saw this adventure like an Indiana Jones movie, where the hero is the mild-mannered scholar by day, who sometimes just crawls out his office window in search of adventure—to find the rare, much sought treasure. Though the adventure seems risky, the viewer knows that the hero always survives peril, emerging treasure in hand, lesson learned, feeling more chuffed and heroic with each successive victory.

I’m not so young anymore. My adventure has taken a lot of unexpected turns over the years. The lessons learned have been hard ones. The peril is real. Any feelings of heroism evaporated long ago—probably on day one. Some days the hope is merely survival.

The romantic notion of heroism evaporated when I understood, rightly, that strength for this adventure is not my own. What is so heroic about being carried along, protected, and given all that I need by Someone else? Heroic? No. Blessed? Yes.

“Blessed are those whose strength is in you,

In whose heart are the highways to Zion.

As they go through the Valley of Baca

They make it a place of springs . . .”

Psalms 84:5-6

Blessed are those whose strength is in God himself. Blessed are those in whose heart are the highways to Zion. To attend the primary feast of Judaism, Passover, Israelites had to journey from northern Palestine to Jerusalem through the Valley of Baca, its brackish waters seeping from the rocks, weeping as it were, into the way. Passover reminded Israel that God himself delivered them from slavery in Egypt and gave them the Promised Land. Passover is central to both Old Testament and New Testaments because it puts mankind in right relationship with God. God delivered Israel from bondage in Egypt. God delivers us from bondage to sin.

When we depend upon God’s strength, not ours, we are blessed. Our hearts are ever turned towards the activity of God in our lives and our world, away from fascination with our own efforts.

Just as the Israelites had to pass through the Valley of Baca to fulfill their pilgrimage, so we must suffer with Christ, to follow his Via Dolorosa. The valley we travel is dark and forbidding: the name literally means Valley of Weeping. The Psalm does not read “if they pass through,” it reads “as they pass through.”

Try to pass through this dark valley of weeping in your own strength and you find only tragedy and loss, desperation and despair. Why?

Psychologist Abraham Maslow proposed in 1943[1] that man’s highest need is self-actualization—like the Army slogan: be all you can be. His ideas permeate Western culture, making it difficult for Westerners to assign legitimate meaning to suffering. This lack of ability to assign meaning to suffering becomes a critical deficiency as we search for hope in the journey through Baca.

Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl writes in Man’s Search for Meaning: “Despair is suffering without meaning.” If we try to find fulfillment in personal glory or adventure or merely in some ambiguous sense of duty, our walk through the Valley of Weeping quickly becomes meaningless suffering.

Our pilgrimage must be the pursuit of God himself. When it is, the outcome is something quite surprising.

Rather than being an occasion for despair, Baca’s brackish waters become fresh springs, a place for all those who come after to find refreshment, nourishment, and rest.

Shaking the gates of hell is sometimes a matter of holding tightly to the One who is carrying us through the dark weeping, trusting him to light the path and make brackish waters fresh. The gates of hell are shaken when others benefit from our suffering. The gates of hell are shaken when He brings us beyond Baca.


[1] Maslow, A.H. (1943). “A Theory of Human Motivation”. Psychological Review. 50(4): 370-396.

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An Altar in the Wilderness

There exists a deep sense of displacement in many of our hearts. As followers of Jesus Christ, we have a tent to live in, but we are looking for a city with foundations, built by God. While we walk in the shadows of the dark valley, the enemy sneaks along the hillsides above us, spying and sniping, trying to kill us before we reach the open country. We are easy targets. We carry the Light through this strange country we wander in.

We do not, however, wander aimlessly. There are waypoints in the wilderness. Consider Isaiah 19:19: “In that day there will be an altar to the Lord in the midst of the land of Egypt, and a pillar to the Lord at its border. It will be a sign and a witness to the Lord of hosts in the land of Egypt.” In New Testament language, we might say, “Every knee will bow, every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.” This prophecy provides hope for the future and spiritual principle for the present.

As you journey, look around you and you will see people with strange customs, alien affections, and selfish pursuits. The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, who worship all sorts of things. In ancient Egypt it was the Nile River or frogs or fertility. Today the gods have different faces, but the affections of the worshipers are the same. Whether by ritual or sorcery or science, fallen mankind desperately tries to control all that threatens or promises to promote.

We, too, face fear, but God has not forgotten us in this wild country. He has allayed our fears by releasing us from the overwhelming need to control all. He has given us an altar outside the camp , where Jesus suffered in order to sanctify the people through his own blood. In so doing, He has changed our affections, transformed our customs, and made our pursuits transcendent instead of transient. We have lost our place in this world, becoming pilgrims, aliens, and strangers.

We have become a sign and a witness to the Lord of hosts. This is our mandate, our role, our place. To paraphrase (or personalize) 1 Peter 2:9: “But we are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that we may proclaim the excellencies of him who called us out of darkness into his marvelous light.” We are living witnesses of Jesus’ sacrifice, his resurrection, his ongoing intercession, his call to draw all people to himself.

Do you, too, feel your displacement in this world? What altar to you sacrifice at? Are your affections, customs, and pursuits the same as or different than those around you? Are you pursuing eternity or time? Are you a sign to your generation? A witness?

Take these questions before God in prayer … then go out and shake the gates of Hell today!