God saved you by his grace when you first believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God. [Ephesians 2:8 (NLT)]
The orange butterfly lay perfectly still in the middle of the trail. When we knelt down by it, the Viceroy fluttered its wings but only managed to skim a few inches across the gravel. As intact as it looked, one wing was entirely useless. A closer look led me to believe it had been hit by a speeding cyclist. To protect the creature from any more bikes or feet, we managed to get it off the trail into the grass. Unfortunately, without some sort of butterfly super-glue to reattach the loose wing, while we could help for the time being, we couldn’t save it.
Although it was easy to see that saving the butterfly was not within our purview, I’m not sure we understand that about our friends and loved ones. As much as we might want to, we can’t save the people around us. We can’t keep Terry from gambling, stop Mary from dating abusive men, make John quit drinking, or salvage Joan’s failing marriage. No matter how much we love them, we can’t fix other people and their problems. Seeing their potential and possibility, we want their lives to be better; however, they are not our repair projects and their transformation is not our job. We can’t fix our loved ones, change their lives, or save them from their own bad decisions. What we want for others is meaningless unless they want it for themselves. We can love them, counsel, and encourage them. We can share God’s word with them and pray for them. We even can help bear their burdens while refusing to enable their destructive choices. What we can’t do, however, is save them from themselves.
Just as we can’t save addicts from their addiction, fools from their reckless decisions, or the shiftless from their indolence, we can’t save non-believers from their non-belief. We can share the gospel message and impart knowledge, but we can’t make people think; we can show people the truth, but we can’t make them believe. Just as we can lead a horse to a water tank, we can lead people to Jesus, but we can’t make the unbeliever drink of Jesus’ living water any more than we can make the horse drink from that tank! It’s their choice alone.
We can give our testimony, but it is God who opens their hearts. We can sow the seed (and even water and fertilize it) but it is up to the soil and God as to whether or not it will sprout. Let us remember that Jesus will save anyone but not everyone will choose to be saved. Unfortunately, many will reject His offer of salvation. We can witness and pray for their salvation but we can’t save them. We aren’t their savior—Jesus Christ is! In actuality, He’s already done the saving; it’s just up to people to receive His gift of grace.
You will find all true theology summed up in these two short sentences: Salvation is all of the grace of God. Damnation is all of the will of man. [Charles Spurgeon]
How can Jesus, who told us to love our enemies and do good to them, tell us to hate our families? Do we have to despise our relatives if we want to be His disciples? Jesus, however, used “hate” idiomatically. Demanding unrivaled loyalty, He used hyperbole to contrast ultimate devotion to Him with all other attachments. In comparison to our love for Jesus, we are to love our family less than we love Him. Christ is to be first and foremost in our hearts and minds and we are to love Him more than anything else in our lives.
Wearing a stuffed backpack and carrying his Teddy bear, little Tommy walked past his neighbor’s house. A short while later, he walked by her house in the same direction. He disappeared around the corner only to reappear several minutes later. As he was passing her house for the fourth time, the neighbor asked him what he was doing. When Tommy explained he was running away, she asked why he was only circling the block. “Because I’m not allowed to cross the street!”
Things were going well for Moses in Midian: he was happily married, with a family, and tending his father-in-law’s sheep. Then God interrupted his comfortable life with a burning bush and a major task: free the Israelites. Moses reacted the way most of us would by questioning God. Who am I to do this? Who do I say sent me? What if they don’t believe me? He then told God he simply wasn’t up to the task. Not one to be thwarted, God responded to all of Moses’ concerns. He would be with him, provide the words, the proof, and even Aaron to do the talking. In short, God promised to provide and so Moses obeyed.
“May the Holy Spirit give us grace to not begrudge the pedagogy of God,” wrote John Piper in the day’s devotion. A somewhat archaic word and not one I regularly use, I thought of a pedagogue as an old, boring, stodgy, and authoritarian teacher who never changed his lesson plan or lectures. Unsure what Piper meant, it seemed wise to consult the dictionary. “Pedagogy” comes from two Greek words: pais, meaning child, and agogos, meaning leader. A paidagogos was a slave who led the boys to and from school, taught them manners, and tutored them after school.
Isaiah heard the Lord ask, “Whom shall I send as a messenger to this people?” and responded, “Here I am. Send me.” When God commissioned him to be His messenger/prophet, Isaiah was acting as a scribe and had a family. Nevertheless, without hesitation, his was an unqualified, “Send me!” Isaiah didn’t know exactly what God wanted him to do or how he was supposed to do it. Even after God told him that the people wouldn’t listen, Isaiah never wavered. Many of Scripture’s heroes, however, weren’t as eager to do God’s work.
