Our oldest daughter was 26 years old a couple of months ago. But she still calls me “Daddy” from time to time, and I love that. It takes me back to those days when our three girls were small, utterly un-self-conscious, and therefore, hilarious—a source of endless entertainment.

There was a brief season of time back when she was around three and our middle daughter was just an infant, in which I’d settled a small office in a modest little one-story building in Edmond, Oklahoma. The offices in the building were all arranged on either side of a long central hallway. My office was located near the end of the hallway, toward the back of the building.

I was just launching an effort to support my family through freelance writing and things were pretty lean financially. Extraordinarily lean, actually. The best parts of the best days back then would be the times my wife would bring the girls up for a surprise visit to my drab, Spartan little work space.

I would hear the chime that indicated someone had opened the front door of the building, quickly followed by the rising sound of stumpy sneakered feet hitting carpet at a full gallop down the hallway. A few seconds later, my daughter would burst through my doorway with a giant smile, a giddy “Hi Daddy!” and body language that shouted, “I’m here! Isn’t it wonderful!”

And it was.

My sincere response was always one of delighted welcome. Outstretched arms. A hug. A gathering into the lap. A breathless request for the latest news from her world.

She was too young—as she was charging down that hallway—to have ever once considered that I might be on an important phone call, or in a bad mood, or upset at her for some act of disobedience I’d heard about earlier in the day.

Those things never entered her mind. No she approached with wild, confident abandon—and usually with a request ready on her lips. “Can we go get pizza tonight? Mommy, said it’s up to you.”

There is a thoroughly biblical, immensely powerful secret to effective prayer hidden in those treasured little moments with my first-born. Allow me to explain.

In my journey of growth and discovery as a believer, I have learned that seeing answered prayer—experiencing daily, miraculous incursions of heaven’s power into our circumstances—is a simple thing involving three spiritual principles.

Together, these three elements have revolutionized our life as a family and enriched our relationships with God in countless ways. They are:

• The Law of Gratitude
• The Law of Asking
• The Law of Heart Confidence

I won’t elaborate much on the first two principles here. I will simply point out that dozens of scriptures exhort, even command, us to “ask.” And that many of those same scriptures encourage us to blend our asking with thanksgiving. Here’s just one example:

 The Lord is at hand; therefore do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. (Phil. 4:5-7)

There is extraordinary power in a grateful heart. And we must get this deep into our understandings . . . God wants us to ask!

“But doesn’t He already know what I need?” many wonder. Yes, but he commands us to ask, anyway. “You have not because you ask not . . .” James reminds us.

It is the third of these principles that too few believers understand—the principle of Heart Confidence. You’ll find it here:

 Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. (Hebrews 4:16)

The testimony of scripture is that it not the neediest or the most desperate who see miraculous answers to prayer. Nor is it the most pious, or self-disciplined, or “deserving” who find heaven’s windows flying open when they speak. No, it is those who approach and ask with the most confident hearts that see mountains move.

Take in the words of James with fresh eyes:

 “If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. (James 1:5,6)

The mystery of the power of heart confidence is embedded in the familiar words of First John 3:21,22. There we’re told that “if our hearts do not condemn us, we have confidence before God, and receive from him anything we ask, because we obey his commands and do what pleases him.”

The equally valid inverse corollary of that biblical statement would be this: “If our hearts do condemn us, we have no confidence before God, and do not receive from him anything we ask . . .”

This is at once a great mystery and a liberating truth. It means that disobedience, or sin, does indeed damage our prayer effectiveness, but not for the reason we assume.

We think God disqualifies us from getting answers from Him when we sin. The truth is, we stop getting answers because sin persuades us to disqualify ourselves. How? It robs us of heart confidence—the only prerequisite to answered prayer!

This is why the enemy of our souls spends almost all of his time and energy accusing us and reminding us of all the ways in which we fall short. Satan (the accuser of the brethren) knows what many of us do not – that our heart confidence is the key to keeping the windows of heaven open so God can move his promises and provision into our lives and circumstances.

I’ve discovered that most believers’ attempts at prayer are entangled by a dozens of disqualifying thoughts:

“I’ve sinned.”

“I haven’t done enough.”

“ I haven’t followed through on that commitment.”

“I haven’t had a quiet time in weeks.”

“I screamed at my kids.”

“Other people get answers because they’re better Christians.”

 Amid this hailstorm of self-accusation and condemnation, many believers give up on even making a request of God. They tell themselves they need to get their act together and become a little more “deserving” first. Then they’ll petition God for help.

Those who do manage to make it to God’s throne slink in on their bellies, laden with guilt and an overwhelming sense of unworthiness. When their prayers prove to be ineffective, they’re not surprised.

I know this pattern because I’ve lived it. But I’ve been set free. I’ve learned that when Proverbs 4:23 warns me to “Guard your heart with all diligence, for out if flow the issues (forces) of life,” that it means I need to guard and protect my “heart confidence” because it is the key to my connection with God.

When I’m convicted of sin, I confess it (1 John 1:9), count it as covered and paid for by the blood of Jesus, and mentally re-assert my legal standing as righteous before God.

I have also worked hard to renew my mind to a wonderful truth about Christ’s work on the cross. We all know that Jesus suffered for our sins, literally having our sins laid upon Him as he was crucified. Most of us are aware that Jesus bore our sicknesses and infirmities, that we might know health and healing.

But have we ever considered the fact that Jesus suffered the ultimate in rejection by God that we might experience the acceptance He knew as the Son of God.

In his extraordinary book, The Atonement, the late Bible teacher Derek Prince wrote:

 In His final moments, Jesus was given sour wine or vinegar, which was bitter. This may have been intended to keep Him from losing consciousness. By accepting this sour wine, Jesus symbolically drained the bitter cup of rejection to its dregs. No human being has ever experienced such total rejection as Jesus experienced on the cross.

Prince built that truth into this powerful faith declaration: “Jesus suffered my rejection so I might have his acceptance.” I have purposed never again to insult the enormity of Jesus’ sacrifice by approaching God on the basis of my own worthiness (or stunning lack thereof).

Yes, I still fall back into the trap of disqualifying thoughts from time to time. But I’ve learned to fight for my heart confidence. To feed it and strengthen it with God’s Word. To attack undermining, disqualifying thoughts with scriptural truth.

And I have learned to recall that picture of a three-old running full-tilt down a hallway into my delighted, open arms.

May I encourage you to do the same?

Fly to Him, child of God. Run as fast as your little feet can carry you. Know that you are accepted, loved and unspeakably welcome. Then with grateful mindfulness of all He has done for you in the past, pour out to Him your requests.

This is the secret of heart confidence. It is the secret of power in prayer.

Simon Peter said, “I’m going fishing.” (John 21:3)

Peter and friends were relieved but a little disoriented.

The sense of relief came from the knowledge that their leader—whom they’d seen arrested, beaten and crucified—was alive and had appeared to them several times. The problem was the disciples weren’t quite sure what they were supposed to do with themselves now.

Jesus had said something about “waiting,” but waiting had never been Peter’s strong suit. So, after another full day of standing around shooing flies and staring at their own sandaled feet, Peter hit the wall.

“I’m going fishing,” he muttered as he grabbed his bag and headed off in the direction of the lake. The other disciples looked at each other for a few seconds then shouted, “Dude! Hold up! We’re coming, too!”

Fishing was not a hobby for Peter and company. It was what they did . . . what they knew. It was the way they fed their families. And feeding his family while turning a tidy profit had always made Peter feel useful . . . valuable.

Like most of us, these men derived their sense of identity from what they did. And their sense of worth from the degree to which they succeeded at it.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with wanting to provide for yourself and for those who are counting on you. In fact, we are hardwired by our Creator to work, produce, build and achieve.

The problem is that from an eternal perspective, we are so much more than what we do. And what we earn is not the measure of our value as men. When we fall for the trap of measuring ourselves by our salary or bank account or car or watch, we are set up for a devastating fall through job loss or a business failure.

So what is the proper measure of your value?

The answer is: What the God of the universe paid to acquire you as a son. That price was Jesus. In good economic times or bad; employed or job hunting; your value remains the same.

You are a prince of God—loved, redeemed and called to eternal usefulness in an eternal kingdom.

 

 

It’s impressive to think God knows THE future.

But it’s staggering to consider that, in fact, He knows every possible VERSION of the future, driven by the moment-by-moment choices of more than 7 billion humans exercising the gift of free will.

Which reminds me that Romans 8:28 does not say, “God causes all things.” (full stop) But rather that He “causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.”

There is an ocean of theological significance in the placement of that period. And comfort in knowing that whether or not those around you choose to do things God’s way or not, He has calculated the outcomes and is finding a way to do you good.

Impressive indeed.

For no particular reason I was reading the Wikipedia entry for the “Plymouth Brethren.” I still can’t stop laughing about one particular passage concerning an 1845 theological dispute between Brethren sect co-founders John Darby and Wills Newton:

Two years later, Darby attacked Newton over notes taken by hearers of a lecture Newton had given on the 6th Psalm. A fierce exchange of tracts followed and although Newton retracted some of his statements, he eventually left Plymouth and established another chapel in London.

Ooooh, the dreaded fierce exchange of tracts. You hate to see a dispute devolve into that. Nothing uglier.

 

This may sting a little. At least at first. But stay with me. There is much good news and no small bit of comfort here.

There is a rousing, thrilling sermon I’ve heard preached several times and in varying forms over the years. It always seems to be a crowd pleaser.

The message is built around several of the many “suddenly” scriptures in the Bible. Walls suddenly fall down, bringing victory. Seas suddenly part, providing a pathway to deliverance. “Suddenly” a sound like a mighty rushing wind fills a room and everyone inside is filled with God Himself.

It’s an appealing, exciting thought—especially to those of us living in the age of drive-through everything and same-day delivery from Amazon.

The basic theme of these messages is that God is a “God of Suddenlies.” And He is. Sometimes. But is He always?

Is it really the case that when God’s redemptive power, glory or presence inserts itself into this material realm, it invariably does so with startling, precipitous rapidity—in other words, “suddenly?”

Here’s a sobering exercise. Search “suddenly” and “sudden” in your favorite English translation of the Bible and you’ll find that all but a few of the suddenlies recorded there are calamities.

Sudden destruction. Sudden catastrophe. Sudden attack. Sudden collapse. Such a review of scripture suggests that it is this fallen creation, and the outlaw spiritual enemy prowling upon it like a roaring lion, that are the ones who specialize in suddenlies.

There is a reason for this. In this entropic, fallen world, destroying is easy. Building takes time. The twin towers of the World Trade Center complex took eight years to plan and build. Blind, demonic hate took them down in a day.

Brush fires are sudden things. Generous, fruit-laden apple trees take their sweet time—a full generation. Sometimes two.

The fact is, much of God’s work in our lives—as with the unfolding of His kingdom on earth—is progressive. Incremental. Gradual. This makes it easy to miss. Or take for granted.

This truth is seen repeatedly in the imagery the Bible’s Author uses to describe His work in this world.

Tiny mustard seeds grow to be the biggest plant in the garden. A little pinch of yeast spreads and multiplies until the entire loaf of bread comes under its influence. “The path of the justified is like the dawn—growing brighter and brighter until the full day appears. (Prov. 4:18)

In the second chapter of Daniel, Nebuchadnezzar’s dream features a statue with feet of iron mixed with clay (symbolizing the Roman Empire under Caesar Augustus). In the king’s dream a stone comes out of heaven and smashes the statue’s feet to smithereens. Then that stone grows into a mountain. And then that mountain keeps growing until it fills the entire earth.

That stone’s name was Jesus.

Growth. Progress. Expansion. This is the way of God.

It seems that everything God does has three aspects and phases. Each act of God is:

1. Definitive (judicially/legally established)
2. Progressive (gradually enacted or enforced)
3. Consummative (fully and ultimately completed)

First God establishes a thing as rightful and legal in the court of Heaven for He has built the Cosmos on a judicial framework. Then He—in concert with His human agents—incrementally establishes that thing through progressive enforcement. This continues until the full and perfect manifestation of that thing has come.

In the fall of 1967 I was saved (my salvation was judically/legally established). Since then I am being saved incrementally and progressively. And a day will come—as mortality gives way to immortality—when that salvation will be consummated and complete.

What’s true for me is also true of this broken world. And God is unimaginably patient. Even if we aren’t.

This is not to say that God is not willing and able to work in the suddenly. He clearly is. Or to suggest that we shouldn’t hunger to see miraculous breakthroughs of His power and glory into the natural realm in ways that make broken things whole in an instant. We should.

But often those sudden breakthroughs are only the visible manifestations of unseen spiritual activity that has been taking place for months, years and even across generations.

You see, the under-appreciated truth is that the foundation for God’s suddenlies is almost always laid in his graduallies.

The visible miraculous, instantaneous healing often springs from someone’s (not necessarily the sick person’s) weeks, months or even years of praying, standing, and dwelling in God’s presence. The move of God that “suddenly” breaks out is usually preceded by a lot of unseen, progressive, incremental taking of ground (enforcement) by people of prayer.

A mountain avalanche seems like the most sudden of things. But that roaring tsunami of white was surely preceded by hundreds of quiet snowfalls. Progressively, incrementally—gradually—the snow accumulates on the mountainside. Then one day a twig snaps and the whole thing breaks loose, changing the landscape completely.

So, do twig snaps cause avalanches? Not usually.

I love God’s suddenlies. They’re thrilling. But I’m learning that I see more of them when I wholeheartedly embrace His gradual-ities in my life.

In other words, I understand I’ve been adopted by the patient, methodical God of Gradually.

Pardon the expression . . . but if the Bible contains a string of “magic words” these are they. I’m referring to a phrase repeated numerous times in the scripture. In fact, these lines—in a few variations—are some of the most frequently repeated in all the Bible.

The Bible reports that on several occasions, the unified saying or singing of these words by a group of people was accompanied by either a miraculous deliverance or a tangible manifestation of God’s presence and power—or both.  These are clearly some powerful words.

We see the first recorded appearance of these extraordinary words in a song penned by King David to celebrate the bringing of the Ark of Covenant (and therefore the presence of God) back to the center of Israelite life. At the climax of a long, exuberant hymn of praise, David the extraordinary lyricist writes:

O give thanks to the Lord, for He is good;
For His lovingkindness is everlasting.

There they are. The phrases that seem to unleash Heaven’s power on earth.

Second Chronicles chapter 5 reveals how the unified singing of these special words resulted in the very glory of God Himself filling the room in cloud-like fashion—becoming so intense that the no one present could even stay on their feet.

In the 20th chapter of that same book, we see the Israelites going out into battle to face an overwhelmingly superior enemy. The army is led by the worship singers singing David’s special lyrics. Suddenly the enemy armies become confused and turn on each other. The attackers are destroyed without a single Israelite sword being unsheathed.

These words appear repeatedly in the Psalms of David and in a one of Jeremiah’s prophecies. As I said, they may very well be the most frequently repeated phrases in all the Bible. Why are they so obviously important and so clearly powerful?

The supernatural strength of this declaration is a three-fold cord. It is woven of these strands:

1. A heart of gratitude
2. An affirmation of God’s goodness
3. A reminder that God’s love is covenantal and therefore relentless.

First, thankfulness is always the most appropriate posture for the child of God approaching the Father. Not fear. Not resentment. Gratitude.  This special declaration then gives us two big reasons why this is so.

First, “. . . for He is good.”

A faith in God’s fundamental goodness is the foundation upon which all sound theology must rest. It is the presupposition . . . the underlying premise . . .  from which all accurate logic and reasoning about God flows. It is the most important thing you can understand about Him. And it is the ultimate reason to be thankful—to God, and for God.

Second, gratitude is supremely appropriate because God’s “lovingkindess is everlasting.”

The Hebrew word translated “lovingkindess” here, or in some translations, “mercy,” is chesed. It speaks to the covenantal nature of God’s love for us. It means God’s love is more than an emotion or a disposition. His love is bound to us through an immutable, unchangeable, unbreakable covenant.

When you contemplate the truth that God loves you with a love that is relentless, tenacious, and impervious to your frailty, flaws and wavering faithfulness, the heart has only one rational response.

To cry, “thank you.”

And when we utter that cry together, it rends the very fabric separating Heaven from earth, allowing glory and power to pour down.