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Much of our teaching time in the Pioneer Boy’s Club this year has been spent in the land of Egypt. Coach Jeff started with the magnificent account of Joseph’s life and the beginnings of the nation of Israel. Joseph dies, and his stalwart reputation among the Egyptians quickly fades.

The Book of Exodus begins with the children of Israel in terrible bondage. God raised up Moses to lead them out of Egypt, gave them the Law, fed them manna and quail, supplied them with water from the rock and finally led them to the dwelling place of God. What a trip it had been! Seven weeks of desert marching now brought them to the base of Mount Sinai. After eleven months and five days, the Shekinah cloud of glory began moving again, heading north toward the Promised Land.

At Kadesh-barnea, the grumbling, complaining people had the opportunity to please God and enter into the land. Twelve spies were sent to investigate this new land. Ten men returned with a fearful report creating hysteria among the population. Only two spies, Joshua and Caleb, returned with a favourable report, declaring we can take the land.

Because of their sin of unbelief and failure to enter into the Promised Land, the Israelites were sentenced to wander in the wilderness for 40 years. This was a death sentence for that unbelieving generation, and they never did enter the Promised Land, with the exception of the two brave spies.

When our children (and your children) were young and faced with a long car ride, the question that would inevitably be asked was: Are we there yet? This question is run on an annoying loop and is repeated many times during the journey. After the fourteenth ask, I was tempted to pull the car to the side of the road and say, “Yes, we’re here! Get out.”

The thousands of young Hebrew children were probably very much like our children. Faced with an arduous journey ahead of them, the question, “Are we there yet?” had to be on their minds, not for a few hours but for decades to come. Their parents had a lot of explaining to do.

As believers, we are not immune to wilderness experiences. Life can be challenging and is not for the faint of heart.

Here is what Warren Wiersbe admonishes:

“Every difficulty God permits us to encounter will become either a test that can make us better or a temptation that can make us worse, and it’s our own attitude that determines which it will be. If in unbelief we start complaining and blaming God, the temptation will trap us and rob us of an opportunity to grow spiritually. But if we trust God and let Him have His way, the trial will work for us and not against us and help us grow in grace.”

 

So, what does this sound like to verbalize a downcast heart in an honest conversation that leads to discovering hope found in Jesus? Well, the other day, someone walked into my office. You could tell something was bothering him by how he walked in, put his stuff down, and let out a large breath. He was ready to talk; all he needed was permission to start. Mary Magdalene was at the same spot according to the passage we looked at on Sunday (John 20:11-18). Jesus cared enough about Mary to ask her, “Why are you weeping?” In essence, Jesus is asking her how her heart is responding to her circumstances. Psalm 43:5 says something similar. The Psalmist asks, 

 

“Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me?

 

In both cases, there is an invitation or permission, to be honest about the circumstances of life that are weighing heavy on the heart. In Mary’s case, it took a few times to ask the same question before she was ready to dialogue. Sometimes it is easier to feel a downcast heart than express one. It is normal to hurt.

 

This man went on to dialogue about some of the things that had been going on in his life. It was not “one big” thing that had him discouraged but rather many minor disappointments and discouragement along the way. Like many others: finances were tight, kids had been sick, sleep was hard to come by, exercise was lacking, life was busy, work and relationships did not always go the way he wanted, etc. This was not the first time he had experienced this in his life, yet this was driving him to look for energy and some feeling of happiness from the empty tombs of eating too much, watching too many, mindlessly scrolling, and dialoguing too little. And yet, his heart was still downcast. This had been going on for months. This is where Jesus’ second question is so penetrating in John 20:15, “Whom are you seeking.” Jesus asks Mary to articulate what she is placing her hope in. Like Mary, this man had started to search for a dead saviour in a dark tomb. The circumstances of both had them looking to fulfill something that felt unfulfilled by Jesus, and it only compounded the downcast heart.

 

This is where discovery comes in. Jesus allows Mary to dialogue about why she is weeping and whom she is seeking. But, He does not leave it there. He calls her out of her present way of thinking, her present location of seeking, to turn around and look at Jesus. This was exactly what this man needed. As he talked it out in the office, he went on to start a dialogue with a couple of friends around him, friends that he knew would help turn him to Jesus. Psalm 43:5 continues,

 

“Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.

 

It is possible to be cast down and in turmoil and still find hope in God.

 

– Where are you seeking to find hope today (a dark empty tomb or a living Saviour)?

– How has your heart been responding to your circumstances lately?

– Who can you start/continue a dialogue with this week?

 

By the way, in case you were trying to figure out who this man is, “this man” is me. I am learning and growing to become more like Jesus as I verbalize my downcast heart in honest dialogue that leads to discovering hope in Jesus. Will you join me?

I sometimes wonder why life is such a struggle. The responsibilities, pressures, headlines, and deadlines crowd in, so I can often think of nothing beyond the noise of my cluttered mind. I ask my crowded thoughts, “How long will all of you attack a man to batter him, like a leaning wall, a tottering fence?” (Ps. 62:3)

On Sunday, by God’s grace, I was reminded of His providence, that He “works all things according to the counsel of His will” (Eph. 1:11). Providence may be thought of as God’s provision through events (i.e., providence = provision-events). It is God’s powerful ability to accomplish His will through every circumstance in our lives.

But what is God’s will? To what end does He work all these things? God’s Word does not leave us to wonder: “For this is the will of God, your sanctification” (1 Thess. 4:3). God’s will is that we would become more like Jesus (Eph. 4:13). So I have begun to take comfort that God is making me more like Jesus among the grim headlines and looming deadlines. But how does He do this in any specific situation?

This is not always easy to see. Sometimes difficult circumstances teach us to trust God more (Prov. 3:5), to lean into His power when ours is insufficient (Eph. 6:12-13), or to adjust our course back toward the “good way” (Jer. 6:16). Often we can’t see what God is doing on our own and we need help. Most of all, we need Jesus, the Good Shepherd, to help us see that His providence will undoubtedly result in glory for Him and good for us (Rom. 8:18, 28). But we also need other Christians. Ephesians 4:11-16 shows us that God provides His people with “shepherds” and other gifted believers so that we all become more able to assist in each others’ growth. So we can see that the Good Shepherd uses providential circumstances and His people to shepherd us toward becoming more like himself.

The word “shepherd” in Ephesians 4:11 is often translated as “pastor” in English Bibles. In fact, it’s the only place in the New Testament that this Greek word (poimēn [ποιμὴν]) is used about a specific position in the church. Usually, this term refers to actual shepherds (Luke 2) or, more commonly, to Jesus himself as the “Good Shepherd” of John 10:1-18, the “Great Shepherd” of Hebrews 13:20, or the “Shepherd and Overseer of your souls” in 1 Peter 2:25. The idea of pastoring is therefore firmly bound up in Jesus. We sheep can’t find our way without help. We need Jesus and each other. We need guidance, conversation, and correction. Even Jesus’ ability to lead us in “the good way” (Jer. 6:16) through life’s circumstances—His pastoral providence—should encourage us to seek the help of our fellow Christians.

That’s why my conscience leads me to talk to my godly friends at Central about God’s pastoral providence in my life. He is always teaching us. Perhaps God is saying to me as He did to Pharaoh in Exodus 10:3, “How long will you refuse to humble yourself before me?” Or maybe He’s saying, “The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent” (Exod. 14:14). Please pray for me and my cluttered mind. Life can be a struggle, and often I need help understanding the Good Shepherd’s pastoral providence in the middle of all the headlines and deadlines. Perhaps you do too.

Who will help you discern God’s pastoral providence in your life?

 

I want you to think about nothing.

I don’t mean “clear your mind.” I want you to actively think about the idea of “nothing.” It’s hard, right, trying to imagine “nothing.”

 In fact, there is a way to approach the idea of “nothing” in stages, which I happily borrow from American astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson.

It goes like this. Picture a box of some sort – like a fish tank, maybe – with a strong decompressor attached to it that sucks out all the air. There, now there is “nothing” in the box, right? We’ve created a vacuum.

Maybe? When it comes to air, or any gas, a cubic metre (m3 ) contains approximately a septillion (1024) molecules. To put it another way, that’s 10 trillion trillion molecules. I think the best decompressor in the best lab in the world can maybe cut that down to 10 billion molecules per (m3 ). Pretty good, but nowhere near “nothing.”

 So let’s leave earth and head into the “vacuum of space.” Now we are getting somewhere. Outside our space shuttle, it’s a thousand times less dense, but we are still talking 10 million particles per (m3 ).

Okay, let’s go farther out still, beyond the solar system into Voyager 1 territory – Interstellar Space: 500,000 particles per (m3 ). Not bad. But not there yet.

Now let’s really step way out into Intergalactic Space, that area between the galaxies. Here we are talking about just a few particles floating around in every ten cubic metres of space.

Close! But not quite.

So, imagine getting rid of those last few particles altogether, all of the material gone. There. Is that nothing?

Not quite. Through quantum physics, we have discovered that there are things called “virtual particles.” They pop into and out of existence before you can actually measure them. We know they exist because they apparently disturb other things in measurable ways… whatever. Let’s take that away too. No freaky virtual particles. Is that nothing?

Not yet, because here in our empty region of space, the “laws of physics” apparently still apply. So let’s remove them, which leaves us with just the empty “fabric of space,” which I understand can be bent or warped, and is still affected by time, so still something, not nothing.

To achieve nothing, we must remove everything, no particles, no laws of physics, no quantum mechanics, no time and finally, no words to describe it.

Even language must disappear because there can be no words to describe that which is impossible to imagine. We’ve entered philosophy here. That nothing, not even the idea or our ability to imagine it, can exist.

“Creatio ex nihilo” is the Christian doctrine of creation out of nothing. That all matter and all that exists had a beginning and was created by a Divine act. “In the beginning, God….”

Okay, now I want you to think of “nobody.”

I don’t mean clear your mind of people; I mean, what is “a nobody.”

I suggest we talk about the perfect “invisible person.” A “no body.” Someone with no rights, no influence, no value, someone that can be used or not, and cast away or not, depending on another’s needs or desires.

In Genesis, which opens with the staggering statement, “In the beginning, God….” we find just such a person, a nobody, an invisible.

Her name is Hagar, an Egyptian slave belonging to Sarai, Abram’s wife.

And you know the story. Abram is 86 years old, Sarai is barren, and so Sarai gives Hagar to Abram to act as a surrogate. Hagar is chattel, a slave, a means to an end. Giving her to Abram, from Sarai’s perspective, is like me loaning you my cell phone. Neither Hagar nor the cell phone has a say in the matter because they are things.

This is born out by Abram’s response when Sarai becomes angry with Hagar.

“Abram said to Sarai, ‘Behold, your servant is in your power; do to her as you please.” Then Sarai dealt harshly with her, and she fled from her.’” Gen 16:6

And then this “nobody” says something that shakes the universe. That, in my case, anyway, flipped my worldview upside down.

You know the story. The Angel of the Lord appears to her and tells her to go back to Sarai and that she will bear a son and call him Ishmael…

Then this absolute nobody says: “You are the God who sees me.” Gen 16:13 NIV.

Remember “Creatio ex nihilo.” He, who created everything from nothing, sees Hagar-a nobody.

And He sees you.