Sometimes it seems there is no hope because it seems there is no help.

It might be a violent storm. It might be a vicious disease. Or, as it once was for Israel, it could be an overpowering enemy. Whatever form it may take, desperate situations call for desperate help.

It is then terrifying to realize the help may not be there.

The list of seemingly unstoppable armies that appear on the pages of history is a long one. Napoleon led one of those. So did a fellow by the name of Hannibal, with his elephants. Likewise, a Rommel, with his tanks. But the name that struck terror into the hearts of Israelites at the time of King Hezekiah was an Assyrian named, Sennacherib.

A later poet described his style of waging war with the words, “The Assyrian came down like a wolf on a fold.”

They came down from modern Syria and overran everything. Destruction, pain, and death followed. “Unstoppable” was the word that seemed to fit best.

When they came to the edge of Jerusalem, Sennacherib sent a field commander to demand the surrender of the city. He pointed out the situation was hopeless because the Israelites were helpless—just like many cities before them.

It was not an empty boast. City after city had already fallen before this superpower. Jerusalem knew this. The ten northern tribes of Israel had been overpowered, with many casualties. Survivors had been rounded up and marched into captivity. So thorough was the defeat of those ten tribes that they vanished without a trace. They became the famous lost tribes of Israel.

Only Judah and little Benjamin were left.

Sennacherib knew the Israelites well enough to realize they would not be counting on an ally to deliver them, nor would they boast of the strength of their army. Israel’s final answer would be, “Our help is in the name of the Lord!” It was a matter of faith in their God.

So, he attacked their God.

This was a sound military strategy. The chances for victory or defeat are not determined only by weaponry or leadership. Morale is a major factor. High morale has given victory to small numbers with limited resources. Low morale invites desertion and surrender.

Those who believe they have no help often have no hope. Crush morale and you do not have to risk defeat.

Sennacherib was not the only one to know this.

Karl Marx, the father of Communism, once famously remarked, “Religion is the opium of the people.” He meant it offered people a false sense of security and well-being.

We would object to that! Our religion does not do that. Our faith is built upon the Rock of ages. How could Karl Marx think that way? After all, he grew up in the land of the Reformation. Germany boasted it was Martin Luther’s homeland. Statues of him dotted the landscape. How could Karl Marx say religion offered a false sense of security?

Because it can be true. Sadly, this is true of all false religions.

The religions of the people of Arpad and Hamath offered empty promises. Idols have no power. Man-made religion is fake religion. Those who placed their hope in these so-called gods were left helpless.

Would it not be the same for those who placed their hope in the LORD? Sennacherib was sure of it.

Hezekiah did not believe that. History does not reveal that. Instead, we learn:
“Then the angel of the LORD went out and put to death a hundred and eighty-five thousand men in the Assyrian camp. When the people got up the next morning—there were all the dead bodies! So Sennacherib king of Assyria broke camp and withdrew” (Isaiah 37:36).

The Assyrians could have come with a million troops. They could have brought armored tanks onto that ancient battlefield. It still would not have done them any good.

The angel of the Lord isn’t afraid of human weapons. Nuclear bombs cannot stop him. The protector of Israel was the Lord God Almighty. Almighty is a limitless word.

The gates of hell could not withstand him. The grip of death could not hold him.

The situation of Israel was not hopeless because she was not helpless. She sang out, “Our help is in the name of the Lord.” And it was.

So is ours.

We are not hopeless. We are not helpless.

The Lord of hosts is with us! The God of Jacob is our refuge.

The Greatest Generation did not hear the word “terrorist” very often. They did, however, become acquainted with terror. Every generation has.

Even during the times when a nation was at peace, such as Israel during the reign of Solomon, individual people still faced terror.

Terror has many faces. It can show itself in many places. It may threaten us with a bomb or a cancer cell. However, when we use the word “terrorist” today, we are most likely thinking of a person who intends to do grave harm to others. Whatever form terror takes, living with it is terrible.

But no terror is as terrible as the terror that the omnipotent God brings upon a people.

Jeremiah is labeled, “The Weeping Prophet.” A book of the Bible is called, “The Lamentations of Jeremiah.” He had much to lament. The Lord revealed to him the terrible times he would bring to his people, Israel.

The Lord warned many would fall before an invading enemy: “They will not be gathered up or buried, but will be like refuse lying on the ground.” There would be survivors, but many would be taken as prisoners to a foreign land: “Wherever I banish them, all the survivors of this evil nation will prefer death to life, declares the LORD Almighty” (Jeremiah 8:2).

When people wish they were dead, their lives are terrible.

Thus, the lament: “We hoped for peace but no good has come, for a time of healing but there was only terror.”

No hope for peace. No time to heal. Only terror. That’s a terrible time.

We need to understand why this happened. We need to ask if this could happen to our nation—to us.

It could.

Let’s take look at ancient Israel. The Lord had showered his blessings upon those people. With an abundance of crops and strong defense, other nations looked upon Israel with envy. The greatest blessing was the presence of the Word of God in its midst.

His Law mirrored his will. His promises brightened their future. The history of Israel was a record of his powerful faithfulness. They were living in the land “flowing with milk and honey.”

What went wrong?

The people. The people went wrong.

They turned away from his paths; discarded his Word; and came up with their own answers for the meaning of life, and their own sources of joy in life.

They rejected the Lord—and then, he rejected them.

Terrible!

But there was hope. Through the same prophet, Jeremiah, the Lord God told them, “I am with you and will save you, declares the Lord” (Jeremiah 30:11).

Then he added: “For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more” (Jeremiah 31:34).

Almost unbelievable, isn’t it? Did he really do this for Israel of old? He did.

Would he make such forgiveness possible for us? Jesus did.

There are times in the lives of people and nations when it seems the sun is shining. Those are the days of hope and confidence.

Sometimes, overconfidence. Sometimes, false confidence.

It’s when the sky turns dark and thunder roars that we are more inclined to realize how vulnerable we are. How helpless we stand before powers that can destroy.

The holy God is one such power. He laughs at those who threaten him. He weeps for those who reject him.

We must stand in amazement to see how he used that awesome power, not to crush us, but to destroy the terrible death grip of sin.

We win! We live!

And prayers of thanksgiving fly up to our Savior.

The Lord God? He is the answer to all that is terrible.

“Autumn leaves are now falling, red and yellow and brown.
Autumn leaves are now falling, see them tumbling down.”

With young schoolmates in Wisconsin, I used to sing this song about this time of year. The change of seasons cannot be missed in that part of the country. The falling leaves are a sure sign that summer has ended.

Those who cried out the words that Jeremiah here records had also seen the sure signs of the end of summer—and it frightened them.

They weren’t worrying about the coming of freezing temperatures and drifting snow. Their dread centered on the judgment of the Lord God.

They had thought they did not need him. They had grown confident in their own ability to face what life would throw at them. Besides, they had strong allies. But now destruction was galloping toward them on horseback. Vicious enemies had overrun their cities.

Now those people call out: “Why are we sitting here? Gather together! Let us flee to the fortified cities and perish there! For the LORD our God has doomed us to perish.” (Jeremiah 8:14).

More than one person and more than one nation have decided that the Holy One in heaven can be relegated to the sidelines. His warnings go unheeded. His invitations go unanswered. He is ignored.

It will not be left that way. Those people are facing dooming judgment.

Punishment inflicted by a fierce enemy has often been the response that the Lord chooses. Destruction, decimation, and death surge over those who reject him.

So it was with ancient Israel. It was painful to watch. We read the cry from the lips of Jeremiah, “Oh, that my head were a spring of water and my eyes a fountain of tears! I would weep day and night for the slain of my people” (Jeremiah 9:1).

But what good does that do? Tears for the fallen come too late. Hope applies only to the living. Thank God, some did survive in Israel. It is they who lament, “The harvest is past, the summer has ended, and we are not saved.” The cry of desperation begs for an answer. They have learned one lesson. They are helpless and hopeless without the Lord God.

Another lesson must be taught to them. The God of Israel is the hope of the hopeless. He will not reject those who call upon him for help.

All mankind needs to learn these lessons. The entire human race is facing the swift march of time. An entire lifetime may seem to pass as quickly as a child’s summer vacation. Tragic are those who look back at the end of the summer of their life and must lament, “and we are not saved.”

Jeremiah learned the lessons. He calls out: “Heal me, LORD, and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for you are the one I praise” (Jeremiah 17:14).

It is a lesson we all need to learn—before our summer ends.

It is a lesson to be learned—before the world’s summer ends.

It’s a lesson our Lord calls us to teach to others.

Those cries for help, those words of lament and fear as the reality of life and death and God sinks in—those words are called out even today. We have heard them. They come from corners of the world foreign to us, maybe even dangerous to us, but they are meant for us.

Sometimes we are surprised at where those cries for spiritual help come from. We have fought battles against some of the countries where these people live. We remember the attack on Pearl Harbor. We remember the fall of Saigon. We mark the graves of Americans who have died at the hands of those people. We remember the chants of “Death to America!”

But we also cannot forget the words of our Savior. “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matthew 28:19,20).

We can’t do this? It’s too expensive? It’s too dangerous? “There is nothing I can do?”

He said, “Surely I am with you!” Isn’t that enough? Didn’t he die for those who are still living without him? Hasn’t he commanded us to spread that news of salvation?

Through the words of those asking for the gospel, we hear the Savior calling us to action. I hear the Savior calling! Today, we hear the Savior calling!

Don’t we?

About the Lord God? He is as good as his word. And his word is truth. That is why whatever he says, be it about the past, present, or the future, is to be accepted as a certainty.

This is vitally important. Our very existence depends upon it. Our lives are in the hands of the Promise Keeper. We are at his mercy.

Good thing, mercy is what he promises us.

There is an old saying, “Promises are made to be broken.” We have learned there is some truth to that. Sometimes circumstances beyond human control prevent promises from being kept. But sometimes the promise-makers simply change their minds.

That’s why we can’t count on every promise. Unless! Unless it is made by the Lord God.

One of his greatest promises was to send someone to crush the rule of death and the devil and rescue humanity from the horrendous pit of deserved justice. The Holy One not only offered a chance of rescue, but he also guaranteed it would be for all people.

Adam and Eve heard that promise, but they did not see it fulfilled. Moses, Abraham, Joseph, and Daniel knew of the promise but did not see it fulfilled. For thousands of years, people waited for this rescue. More than one of them asked, “When is it coming? Why the delay?”

The questions are answered in the New Testament with the famous words “And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.” That’s the beginning of the story of how the Lord God kept his promise to bring the light of life to a world living in spiritual darkness.

“I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10). This the Son of God announced to the world.

Those who first heard and believed this were then shocked to see that the one who said he would bring life ended up dying.

Surely, they may have felt, their hope of eternal life died with him.

He was placed into a tomb. Some of his followers witnessed that.

He, who had promised life, had died. What else can be said?

The answer is with the words: “He is not here. He is risen!”

That’s what angels said. And holy angels do not lie.

But you and I were not there. We didn’t hear the angels speak. We did not see the resurrected Jesus walking and talking—then ascending on high. We have to take the Bible’s word for it. But that’s all right. After all, it is God the Holy Spirit speaking through those words. His words are true. Indeed, they are truth, itself.

But would it not be nice if one time we could see with our own eyes that the Holy One truly keeps his promises?

We can. We have. We have seen rainbows.

We are told that’s a simple law of nature at work as light rays are refracted. But who created that light? Who made the laws that nature follows? Is it not the same one who created weather? Who brings clouds and rain? If he did not will it, there would be no rain, no light, no refraction—and no rainbow.

“Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life.”

That’s what he said. That’s what he promised. And that is what he has done—and keeps on doing.

We need build no arks. We need gather no animals into an ark. We need not fear that the waters will keep rising until the tops of mountains are covered.

Do we think such a flood would be impossible? So did a world of people in Noah’s day.

They may have laughed at him over the 120 years that he warned and he prepared. But he had heard the Lord promise disaster. “I am going to bring floodwaters on the earth to destroy all life under the heavens, every creature that has the breath of life in it. Everything on earth will perish” (Genesis 6:7). Then came that flood. Promise kept!

Noah had also heard the Lord say he was making a covenant with him and his family. The Lord promised them life.

They did live. Every living thing on that ark survived.

Promise kept.

He also promised to never again send a universal flood. What happened? Promise kept!

So, consider this promise. “Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed—in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed” (1 Cor.15:51).

That’s not something to be doubted. The Lord has promised this. We must believe him.

He is the Promise Keeper.

In the end, the attacks against God’s church are not so much aimed at us as they are at him. We are not the greatest enemy against the powers of darkness. He is.

This has always been the case. The invasion of Israel by the Babylonians and the destruction of the temple reveal this.

It’s difficult for us to grasp the horror of that invasion. We would need to imagine America being overrun by an enemy that threw out all our laws, dragged vast numbers of citizens away as captives, and settled its own people into our war-torn communities.

Then it destroyed our places of worship to wipe out any trace of our religion!

The psalmist described what the invading Babylonians did to Solomon’s temple. “Your foes roared in the place where you met with us;” he told the LORD, “They set up their standards as signs. They behaved like men wielding axes to cut through a thicket of trees. They smashed all the carved paneling with their axes and hatchets” (vs.4-6).

In shock, he reported to the LORD in whose name the temple had been dedicated, “They burned your sanctuary to the ground, they defiled the dwelling place of your Name. They said in their hearts, ‘We will crush them completely!’ They burned every place where God was worshiped in the land.”

It seemed like the LORD had abandoned his people. “We are given no miraculous signs,” the psalmist laments. “No prophets are left, and none of us knows how long this will be” (vs. 7-9).

What are the people of God to think when they see him under attack—and he does not fight back? Has he lost his power? Does he no longer care if his name is defiled, and his people destroyed?

Did he not declare “I am the LORD; that is my name! I will not give my glory to another or my praise to idols” (Isaiah 42:8).

So, the question arises in the psalm “How long will the enemy mock you, O God? Will the foe revile your name forever?” (v. 10)

It isn’t that the LORD is helpless. The psalmist knows better. So, his question now is, “Why do you hold back your hand, your right hand?”

He begs the LORD, “Take it from the folds of your garment and destroy them!” (v.11).

To a certain degree, we may know how he felt. When we see his people victimized and his name ridiculed, we wonder why he lets that happen. It seems as if he is standing with his hands in his pockets while evil triumphs.

Like the psalmist, we acknowledge him as our King and the bringer of salvation. Like the psalmist, we must say to him, “The day is yours, and yours also the night; you established the sun and moon. It was you who set all the boundaries of the earth; you made both summer and winter.”

Since that is true, since he is almighty, why doesn’t he show it?

We know he is Lord of all. We know that to reject him, much less defy him, brings horrendous consequences. In Psalm 2, we are told of his reaction to human threats. “The One enthroned in heaven laughs; the Lord scoffs at them. Then he rebukes them in his anger and terrifies them in his wrath.”

But he picks the time to act. He decides what his action will be. For besieged Israel, the day would come when the excited messenger would report, “Babylon has fallen, has fallen! All the images of its gods lie shattered on the ground!” (Isaiah 21:9)

The day came when the LORD took his hand out of his pocket and overthrew the haughty Babylonian empire overnight.

Always, he is in control. Never does anything escape his notice. Never is his love to be doubted. Always is his faithfulness our shield.

Hasn’t he proven that with our rescue from death and damnation by the death of his Son?

And what happens to his people while they wait for him to deliver from evil? It is written: “But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint” (Isaiah 40:31).

Let us be among those who, in faith and hope, wait on the LORD to act in loving justice.

He surely will.

Just wait and see.

He sat in a chair not ten feet from his little son’s casket. But he would not look up.

People bent over to offer words of sympathy. But he would not look up.

Just days before, his eyes had sparkled as he held the child at a family gathering. Now, the light has gone away from his eyes. Only the darkness of grief was left. It would stay with him for a long time.

Shadows of that darkness were still there on the day he died.

It wasn’t that his faith had died. He still held fast to the promise of everlasting life for himself and the son he had brought to the baptismal font. But he spent the rest of his life as if never quite leaving the valley of the shadow of death.

He returned to work. He returned to the fellowship of friends and family. But he never returned to his old self. Darkness was now his closest friend.

The writer of Psalm 88 could have told him, “I know how you feel.”

Sorrow is often seen on the pages of Scripture. God does not deny that his people feel the depth of sorrow at times. Jesus wept over the death of his friend Lazarus, even as he wept over the people of Jerusalem who had rejected the rescue he offered.

“O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you—O Absalom, my son, my son!” (2 Samuel 18:33) Those were the words of King David, grieving for his son.

Sometimes, we see grief mixed with confusion bordering upon anger—anger toward God as the question of “Why?” rings out. The psalmist points to the Lord as the cause of his dark grief. “You have put me in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths,” he complains.

He is in dire misery. Listen to his lament. “For my soul is full of trouble and my life draws near the grave.” He felt the Lord had forgotten him—worse, that he was, “cut off from your care” (Psalm 88:3-5). His world had fallen apart.

If we have not experienced such pain of heart, we might question how it could exist in a person who knows death has been conquered, in a soul that clings to the Lord of life while awaiting the day of resurrection.

But Jesus understands. He warned his followers. “I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices.” Then he said, “You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy” (John 16:20).

He never promised our lives would be carefree, never suggested that if only our faith was strong enough, we would live happily ever after—not until it is the ever after.

Psalm 88 is a dark psalm. But it begins with the bright beam of heavenly light, “O LORD, the God who saves me.” This message is repeated and stressed throughout Scripture. In another psalm, we hear from a grieving heart, “Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory” (Psalm 73:23,24).

In still another psalm, it is David who begins by calling out, “Hear, O LORD, my righteous plea; listen to my cry”—and ends with this bold statement of confidence, “And I—in righteousness I will see your face; when I awake, I will be satisfied with seeing your likeness” (Psalm 17:14).

That’s the way it was for people who turned to the Savior God for endless joy in heaven and blessed assurance on earth. He never failed them. He never will.

He knows how it feels to lose a loved one to death. Scripture points us to the Father and the death of his Son. The hymn calls out, “Oh sorrow dread! God’s Son is dead!” Were there tears in heaven on that Friday? Is that the reason for the strange darkness that fell at midday? Is this not the answer to our pain and sorrow?

Grief need not be despair. Faith can sustain a heavy heart. Tears of sorrow can mix with tears of joy.

Something to remember when we see another one weighed down with grief. Something to recall when the dark clouds of sorrow move into our lives.

With the apostle Paul, we can yet boast, “Death, where is your sting? Grave, where is your victory?” With all the people of God, we can joyfully proclaim, “But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:57).

There is a light that penetrates even the deepest darkness. That grieving father who refused to look up now lives in that light. He has joined his precious son in the glory of God’s Son. The small casket is forgotten. Darkness is no longer his companion or friend.

Now, he can look up at his son and his Savior. Now, he would reassure us by declaring “What a friend we have in Jesus!”

As we turn the pages of Holy Writ past the turbulent and bloody times covered in the book of Judges, our attention is directed to a small town that had been known as Ephratha. It became better known as Bethlehem—which translated, is, the House of Bread.

Ironically, the day came when the House of Bread ran out of bread. There was a famine in the land.

At that point, our attention is drawn to a woman named Naomi. With her husband and two sons, she moved to the land of Moab to escape the famine. The Moabites, we may recall, had been the ancient enemies of Israel. Naomi and her family would find food in Moab, but they would live there as strangers in a strange land.

Yet, her sons found wives among the Moabites. One of them was named Orpah and the other Ruth.

Sadness clouded Naomi’s life when her husband died in that foreign land. The grief multiplied when both of her sons also died. Not surprisingly, she decided to go back to Bethlehem, which no longer suffered from famine.

But what about her daughters-in-law? Their family and friends were in Moab. They knew no one in Bethlehem. Worse, they would have expected to be treated as unwelcome immigrants from a country hostile to Israel.

Moab was the land of the dreaded Philistines. Yet, it wasn’t just their nationality that would offend Naomi’s friends and family. The religion of Moab was the despised worship of the heathen idol, Dagon. The Israelites would have remembered when the Philistines defeated their army in a battle that killed the sons of their high priest—and then dragged the holy ark of the covenant into the temple of Dagon as an offering to him.

That’s why the words of Ruth to Naomi are so striking. She refused Naomi’s invitation to remain with her people in Moab. Instead, she told her mother-in-law, “Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried.”

And it was so! But there is much more to the story. And her story flows into our story.

Naomi returned to Bethlehem as a widow with a widowed daughter-in-law—and no means of self-support. But by the law of God, help for such people was available. When crops were harvested, the owner was not allowed to go back to get what was missed in the field. That was to be left for the poor people to gather.

That’s why Ruth was found working in the field owned by a man named Boaz. He was a distant relative of Naomi. Again, by the law of God, a man who died childless could have his line continued if his widow married a relative of his who was willing to give up his own claim to descendants. His children would be considered the dead man’s legacy.

Ruth was a poor Moabitess. Boaz was a prosperous landowner from a prestigious Israeli line. Not only did they fall in love—they were definitely meant for each other! The book of Ruth is a true love story. But why is it included in the inspired text of the Word of God?

Because it is a love story showing the love of God for us!

Ruth and Boaz gave Naomi a grandchild. We hear, “Then Naomi took the child, laid him in her lap and cared for him. The women living there said, ‘Naomi has a son.’ And they named him Obed.” Then comes the shocker. “He was the father of Jesse, the father of David” (Ruth 4:16,17).

King David’s grandmother was a Moabitess. Bethlehem became known as the City of David a thousand years before Jesus was born. In the prophecy later quoted to the wise men, Micah had written,

“But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah,
though you are small among the clans of Judah,
out of you will come for me
one who will be ruler over Israel,
whose origins are from of old,
from ancient times” (Micah 5:2).

Bethlehem, the House of Bread, site of the grave of Rachel, Jacob’s wife; home to Boaz and his wife, Ruth; birthplace of Jesse and his son, David, is also the birthplace of Jesus, the Son of God and Savior—who told us, “I am the bread of life” (John 6:48).

There’s a lesson to be learned from this. In a prophetic vision, Saint John saw those who were celebrating victory in heaven by singing,

“Great and marvelous are your deeds, Lord God Almighty.
Just and true are your ways, King of the ages” (Revelation 15:3).

Never should we doubt what he promised! Ever should we count on his marvelous ways!

Only from him comes the Bread of Life.

“The Bible is a bloody book!” With these words, some parents have demanded Bibles be removed from school libraries.

With all the violence that shows up on the news and entertainment screens, we might be surprised to hear anyone point at the Bible as a bad influence. We know it carries the best message for everyone to hear. Yet, there is truth behind saying the Bible is a bloody book.

The crucifixion of Jesus certainly is a gory story. But we need to hear it.

The Old and New Testaments carry many vivid accounts of violence and bloodshed. We might cringe at the reports, but we need to know about them.

The sacred Scriptures tell us stark truths about humans and critical truths about the LORD. They frighten us with the reality of our depravity and inspire us with the evidence of his devotion to our welfare. They show, when it comes to protecting his people, the LORD acts with overwhelming force. The account of Gideon and the Midianites is an example.

Israel had settled into the Promised Land but was half-hearted in its efforts to clear out all the Canaanites. As the LORD had warned, these worshipers of heathen gods became a snare to trap Israel into godlessness. As he had warned, he withdrew his protecting hand from Israel when faced with enemies. The nation wilted under this judgment.

But mercy from the LORD was still available. It flowed forth at the time of Gideon.

The Midianites had become the scourge of Israel. Scripture tells us, “Because the power of Midian was so oppressive, the Israelites prepared shelters for themselves in mountain clefts, caves and strongholds.” More details are given, “Whenever the Israelites planted their crops, the Midianites, Amalekites and other eastern peoples invaded the country. They camped on the land and ruined the crops all the way to Gaza and did not spare a living thing for Israel, neither sheep nor cattle nor donkeys.”

They were an overwhelming force. We are further told, “They came up with their livestock and their tents like swarms of locusts. It was impossible to count the men and their camels; they invaded the land to ravage it.”

This led Israel back to its only protector. We hear, “Midian so impoverished the Israelites that they cried out to the LORD for help” (Judges 6:2-6).

The LORD responded with overwhelming force—but not in numbers and not with human strength. There were some 135,000 Midianites camped against Israel. At the LORD’s command, Gideon gathered his much smaller army.

“Too many!” the LORD said. “Tell any of them who are afraid that they can go home.” Twenty-two thousand left. Still too many! When the troops came to water, Gideon was told, “Separate those who lap the water from their hands with their tongues from those who kneel down to drink.”

The three hundred who lapped the water from their hands were chosen. They would attack the horde of Midianites at night—using the sudden flash of torches and the blast of trumpets.

And no weapons!

The result? The Midianites panicked. In the dark confusion, they began attacking one another. They defeated themselves. They had been attacked by an unseen, overwhelming force—the Lord of hosts, that is, the Lord of armies. He is also called Jehovah.

We call him our LORD. We call him “Our Father who art in heaven.” He always steps in to rescue with overwhelming force. That’s what happened when he sent his Son to confront the enemies of our souls. Jesus did not need Peter’s sword. He did not need Pontius Pilate to protect him. It was his righteousness that carried the day. He used his own death as a weapon.

He won the battle for our salvation by using overwhelming force—the redeeming power of his blood.

Then, he proceeded to win our hearts and minds. “‘Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit,’ says the LORD Almighty” (Zechariah 4:6).

The Bible is, indeed, a bloody book—and we thank God for it.

It is said that money talks. If it truly did, it would have to say, “Don’t count on me!”

We know that. But we also know money can be valuable because money has buying power. We like that. It means if we have money, we have the power to buy things we need. If we have enough money, we can even buy things we don’t need. We like the feeling of that power.

Simon was a common name at the time of Jesus. His half-brother carried that name, as did Simon Peter. In our text, we find Peter talking to one called Simon the Sorcerer. It was not a pleasant conversation.

We hear Peter say, “May your money perish with you!” He had not lost his temper. He was showing the man the consequences of his wrong thinking. Simon the Sorcerer thought that he could use the buying power of money to buy power from God.

For some time, he had practiced sorcery and amazed the people in Samaria. He boasted he was someone great and the people believed him. They said, “This man is the divine power known as the Great Power.” Saint Luke tells us, “They followed him because he had amazed them for a long time with his magic.”

That was before Philip came to Samaria to proclaim the message of Christ. When the crowds heard Philip and saw the miracles he worked, they started to pay close attention to what he said. Luke caps the scene by writing, “With shrieks, evil spirits came out of many, and many paralytics and cripples were healed. So there was great joy in that city” (Acts 8:7,8).

That got the attention of Simon the Sorcerer! We learn Philip baptized many Samaritans. We are glad to hear that. We are perhaps surprised to hear, “Simon himself believed and was baptized. And he followed Philip everywhere, astonished by the great signs and miracles he saw” (Acts 8:13).

One of those miracles was that this former fake miracle worker who had claimed divine power now turned in faith to the true source of power, Jesus, the Son of God.

Simon, the former sorcerer, was now a believer, but he was new to the faith and still had much to learn. He still tended to look at life through the glasses of his former life. He was still very impressed with displays of power and very much wanted to use such power in service to Jesus.

He thought he could buy that power. He still did not know that one cannot count on money. You can only count on Christ.

That became apparent when the miracle of Pentecost at Jerusalem was repeated in this city of Samaria. Hearing some Samaritans had come to faith in Jesus, Peter and John quickly traveled there and prayed that they might receive an outpouring of the Holy Spirit. We are not told how the Holy Spirit made himself known. Were there tongues of fire on heads? Did they start speaking foreign languages? We don’t know. But it was obvious to everyone that the Holy Spirit had come upon these people.

When Simon, the former sorcerer, saw this, he offered the apostles money and said, “Give me also this ability so that everyone on whom I lay my hands may receive the Holy Spirit.”

We have heard Peter’s answer. Buying power from God is not just impossible, trying to do so is a deadly sin.

But that doesn’t mean Satan will stop tempting humans to try that. The lust for power runs deep within us. The thrill of using power is appealing. Simon the Sorcerer isn’t the only one who wants to be known as the Great One. Thus, the danger of trying to bargain with God to exalt ourselves remains great.

Jesus points us in a different direction. He invites us, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart” (Matthew 11:29). There’s true greatness!

He paid for our salvation with his blood.

Now, that’s buying power!

He was the hometown boy who did good. He left to make a name for himself and now he was back with his family and the people he had grown up with.

He was Jesus, son of Joesph and Mary, the boy who had learned carpentry from his dad, who now had returned as a rabbi to preach in the synagogue he had worshiped in as a youth. It started well. We hear, “All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his lips” (Luke 4:22).

But then feelings changed when Jesus quoted from Isaiah 61, which prophesied the coming of the Messiah. Luke records the dramatic scene, “Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him, and he began by saying to them, ‘Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing’” (Luke 4:20,21).

The worshipers were shocked. This, they felt, was blasphemy! “‘Where did this man get these things?’ they asked. ‘What’s this wisdom that has been given him, that he even does miracles! Isn’t this the carpenter? Isn’t this Mary’s son and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas and Simon? Aren’t his sisters here with us?’ And they took offense at him.”

Jesus responded, “Only in his hometown, among his relatives and in his own house is a prophet without honor.”

As our human brother, Jesus was not without feelings. This must have hurt him. But it was just one instance of the rejection he faced from those who thought they knew him best. A little earlier, after word had spread that he had appointed twelve disciples, those close to him were greatly concerned. They tried to take control of him. They said, “He is out of his mind” (Mark 3:21).

We aren’t told Mary’s reaction. We trust she remembered the words of the angel who announced his coming birth. Joseph had no doubt told her what the angel said to him. At the wedding in Cana, she showed she expected special things from her son. Maybe she continued to ponder all this in her heart as she did when he was the 12-year-old boy in the temple.

His brothers and sisters did not. They took offense at him. Later, some of his family did come to believe in him. But this was only after his resurrection.

And the rest of the hometown people? Their accusation of blasphemy would remain until his execution on Golgotha. But if it had been up to them, he would have been killed right then and right there at the edge of Nazareth.

The words of Mark that make us sit up and take notice are, “He could not do any miracles there, except…”

This meant his gracious works for these people were, then and there, impossible.

How can that be? This is the Son of God. With God all things are possible. Why was it impossible for Jesus to work miracles wherever he wished? Were his powers limited after all?

Absolutely not!

It’s Luke who tells us about the furious reaction to the claim of Jesus that he was the Messiah. Of the people of Nazareth he reports, “They got up, drove him out of the town, and took him to the brow of the hill on which the town was built, in order to throw him down the cliff. But he walked right through the crowd and went on his way” (Luke 4:28,29).

Jesus could not work miracles in his hometown because they drove him out.

That dreadful power remains with humans today. The Lord God will not force us to accept his forgiveness and salvation. We can drive the Savior out of our lives. We can keep him out.

But then we are left to live without him. We are left to die without him. Then, we will spend a timeless and torturous existence without him.

The time of hope and grace has already passed for those residents of Nazareth. They had their chance to lay hold of the golden crown of salvation and embrace Jesus in faith. We pray many did. We hope at least some did.

The sun has set on their day of opportunity. It yet shines for us. The voice of the Holy Spirit still comes to us with the words, “But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today,” and again, “Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts” (Hebrews 3:13,15).

We still have work to do. Jesus said, “As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work” (John 9:4). So it is with us.

Unlike it was for Jesus on that day in Nazareth, our work is not yet impossible.

As the grip of the Axis powers tightened over much of Europe by 1941, President Roosevelt delivered his famous Four Freedoms speech. In it, he declared that people everywhere in the world ought to be able to enjoy freedom of speech and religion and freedom from want and fear.

It was well-received by our Allies. It was applauded by freedom-loving people everywhere—even among those who no longer enjoyed those freedoms.

Americans have labeled freedom with the term independence. They began celebrating Independence Day already in 1777. We still do that in our day. We view freedom and slavery as polar opposites. As much as we will fight for the first, so we will fight against the second. Indeed, we have taken to battlefields to set others free.

Thus, the words of God on the subject of freedom resonate well with the people of God. But the message of God would be truncated if we thought it only applied to the politics of governments. Jesus corrected that mistaken impression when it was expressed by some in a crowd that had gathered around him.

He told them, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” They replied, “We are Abraham’s descendants and have never been slaves of anyone. How can you say that we shall be set free?”

That’s when he delivered the bombshell, “I tell you the truth, everyone who sins is a slave to sin.”

Sin is not a one-and-done action in our lives. We sin and sin, then sin some more. We cannot go one day without sinning. It’s worse than an addiction. It is, indeed, slavery.

Freedom is a large word with deep meaning. Americans may now be free from the control of their mother country, England, but that does not mean nothing controls them. Not just local and national laws stand in the way of doing whatever, but also the common restraints of life.

Ask the student who doesn’t want to go to class; ask the worker who would prefer to be at the beach on a summer day; or ask the patient who wishes to be free from chemotherapy. They will tell us freedom seems to be limited. It is not universal or timeless.

And as the bumper stickers around military installations remind us, freedom is not free. It was bought at a price.

If we are irritated by some lack of freedom in daily life, if we are fearful that America may one day no longer be “the land of the free”, the level of concern must rise when we hear Jesus describe our standing with the word “slave.”

He contrasts the position in a family of a slave to that of a son. The slave has no claim to any of the family’s wealth or privileges. The son is an heir to all of it. The slave’s position is temporary. He may lose it at any time. The standing of the son is fixed and permanent.

The message is clear. No matter how rich or poor we might be, no matter how sick or healthy, no matter how high or low our position is in society—it is all temporary if we remain under the control of sin.

Hate it as much as we might, and struggle against it with all our might, we cannot break free from the powerful grip that will keep us as captives to urges of evil and a destiny of destruction.

We need rescue. We need the mighty God to step in and break the chains of slavery. We need to be freed from the tyranny of sin, death, and the devil.

We need Jesus, the Son of God. When Jesus sets us free, we are far more than liberated slaves; we are ourselves turned into “sons” adopted into the household of God, children of the heavenly Father, and joint heirs with Christ.

Really!

It’s not just a dream. It’s more than hope. It is a promise from our Good Shepherd.

King David knew that. That’s why his famous psalm which begins, “The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want” ends with the words, “And I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever” (Psalm 23:6).

“So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”

“Need some help?” The question already indicates a willingness to be of assistance and the confidence the effort will be of value.

But that question begs two additional questions. “Do I actually need help?” and “Can this one actually provide the help I need?”

If the answer to either of the two questions is negative, the answer to the first question must also be negative: “No, thanks!”

The writer of this psalm is King David who is near the end of his life. The story of that life details the many acts of deliverance God had provided—from lions and bears, from Goliath and the Philistines, from other enemy nations, and from Saul and Absalom. In this psalm, he shows his confidence that God’s blessings will continue, even after his death.

The verses before us reveal his inner thoughts and convictions. They are strong words of help having been accepted.

Many are the enemies who threatened him with haughty self-confidence. Goliath mocked him by asking, “Am I a dog, that you come at me with sticks?” Then he cursed David by his gods. “Come here,” he said, “and I’ll give your flesh to the birds of the air and the beasts of the field!” (1 Samuel 1:43,44) Bold words. Empty threats.

That time, the Lord delivered David by means of a simple slingshot and one stone.

Afterward, he delivered this shepherd boy who became king from every other enemy that rose up against him.

But not all attacks came from without. An enemy lurked from within. His own sinful nature was deadly. This ally of Satan posed a constant danger. More than once it seemed it would overwhelm him. One time David found himself charged with both adultery and murder—and he had to plead guilty. His crimes were against God as much as against other humans.

That brought a dark and desperate time into his life. In Psalm 130, he wrote, “Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD; O Lord, hear my voice.” In Psalm 32, he revealed the anguish he felt. “When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long.”

He needed help. It came in the form of a verdict. God’s representative pointed his finger at David and declared, “You are the man!” His sin was exposed.

Guilty David replied, “I have sinned against the Lord.” He was then told, “The Lord has taken away your sin” (2 Samuel 12:13). His sin was covered by the blood of his Redeemer.

This time he was delivered by the repentance the Holy Spirit worked in him. Saving faith shone once again in his heart. He wrote, “Yes, you light my lamp. O Lord. My God turns darkness to light.”

Time after time in the past, the Lord God had stepped in to deliver him from danger to both body and soul. What about the future? He was growing old. His strength was failing. His kingdom was being threatened. His life was being threatened. His faith was being threatened. What chance did he have?

His hope lay with the Lord God who had delivered him all through his life. “For with you,” he wrote, “I can charge against a battalion, and with my God I can jump over a wall.”

This is not haughty self-confidence. This is the very type of faith we ask for. Scripture assures us we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us. David’s greatest enemy was not Goliath or Saul. The greatest threat in his life came from the same source as the greatest threat to us: the powers of darkness.

The apostle Paul assures his readers, “The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet” (Romans 16:20). King David would tell us, “You better believe it!”

Since the Lord has delivered us from the death grip of sin, can we not be certain that he will deliver us from every other threat that might arise? We may stumble and fall, but he will pick us up and carry us across the goal line. Should we doubt that?

Don’t we agree, “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31) We must.

Since my God is with me, I have nothing to fear.

I am not alone. I am with my God.

He is not a little God. He is not a part-time God.

He is the Creator, the Redeemer, and the Sanctifier. He is the eternal Triune God.

He is our God. He is the only God.

Complaints have been leveled against him by some members of the human race. They say his actions confuse them. His judgments dismay them.

They want to hold him accountable for perceived crimes against humanity. If he controls tornadoes and lightning bolts, why does he allow storms to strike without warning and without regard for the victims?

Why should that baby burn to death in its crib? Why should that mother drown as she tries to rescue her child? How could he allow millions of everyday people to be systematically exterminated by others wanting to purify the human race by removing the unacceptables?

What is the Bible’s response? “How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out!” (Romans 11:33).

What was God thinking? If even humans could see the mistakes he was making, if they complained about what they saw as major mistakes, why didn’t he listen? Why did he not modify his plans?

The Bible shows these are actually silly questions by asking us, “Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor?” (Romans 11:34).

The answers are obvious. “No one!” These are impossibilities.

But doesn’t he owe us answers? If he expects us to honor him, even worship him, isn’t he obligated to give us what we believe is due? Isn’t that the least he should do?

Again, those questions are answered by the answers we must give to his questions. “Who has ever given to God, that God should repay him?” (Romans 11:35).

The Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier God owes us nothing.

He is not dependent upon us for anything. We did not make him into what he is. We did not vote him into office. He is not subject to our whims or preferences—even if we wish it were so.

Old Testament Job complained about that. “If only I knew where to find him;” he complained, “if only I could go to his dwelling! I would state my case before him and fill my mouth with arguments” (Job 23:3,4).

It never happened. Instead, he reports, “But if I go to the east, he is not there; if I go to the west, I do not find him” (Job 23:8). He concludes, “He does whatever he pleases. He carries out his decree against me, and many such plans he still has in store. That is why I am terrified before him; when I think of all this, I fear him. God has made my heart faint; the Almighty has terrified me” (Job 23:13-16).

What does this mean for us frail and vulnerable humans? What chance do we have against him? None.

What chance do we have with him? Guaranteed and overflowing success.

How can we know? Because he tells us what he thinks and what he has done. “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).

It is as simple and wonderful as that.

He owes us nothing good. He gives us everything good. He is the source of everything good.

Is he beyond our comprehension? Of course! Is this a problem? It’s a blessing! Can we compare him to anything else that we know of? Of course, not! Can anything else serve as a substitute for him? Absolutely not!

Should we question him? Should we doubt him? Should we reject him?

No. No. And absolutely, no!

Then what? Then what else but this for today, for tomorrow, and forever?

To God be the glory!

Christianity is an “other world” religion. It declares that there is life beyond planet Earth. Indeed, there is life beyond the universe. Furthermore, Christianity affirms, “We have been visited by beings from this place beyond.” The bottom line is that Christians expect to live in that place that is beyond all sight, measurement, or sense of direction; to live in peace and harmony with the beings that already dwell there.

So far, we have experienced nothing but life on Earth. Our forays into sky and space have been so insignificant that a major telescope on our neighboring planet would not have even noticed them. It seems safe to say: “In the main, earthbound we are, and earthbound we will remain.” But that is not a safe statement to make—because it is not true!

The people of God have information available to them that transcends what even an exploration of deep space could reveal. We have a record of extra-terrestrial beings, called angels, who have come to this planet and interacted with humans. We have a record of their conversations and their activities. The record has been authenticated.

And there is something greater. Much greater! A being who is all-powerful, all-knowing, and demanding of only right thinking, speaking, and acting, has made contact with Earth. In fact, he was here before humans or any other life appeared on the planet. He made all of this. He made us! He gave us perfection—and we ruined it. That brought his anger.

As a result, we might expect that all that would be left to this planet now is a mushroom cloud, with hot ashes of destruction. But Earth is still here. We can still see blue skies and blue waters. It is still called the Blue Planet. How can we account for this?

Only one word will do: love! The One from beyond, the one who made all and judges all, possesses an amazing love for the humans he placed onto this planet. He has delayed its destruction.

When the time was right, his Son came to live among us for some 33 years. During that time, he did what was necessary to enable humans to escape from the absolute destruction that is coming. He lived a perfect life and died a sacrificial death. Because of him, we can live forever. Those who put their faith in him will do just that.

But where will we live that forever life? The answer is: “In the place beyond, in the place where the eternal Lord of glory came from.” We call that place heaven.

It’s easy to forget that. Our lives are so busy with earthly things. After all, we need to make a living. That takes time and effort. We face challenges and deadlines. That requires us to be focused.

We might feel that thinking about heaven can wait until we have time for it—or until we have no choice but to give it some attention. When death walks into the room, everything else fades from view for a while. When walking out of the Mayo Clinic with the news, “If you want to do some traveling, do it within four months,” the stunned patient told his wife, “I just can’t wrap my head around that.”

Who could blame him? He had just lost weight. He was exercising regularly. He was relatively young. His shoulder had been bothering him. He was hoping to be told how to get rid of that nagging pain.

He was not hoping or expecting to learn he would soon die.

“I lift up my eyes to you, to you whose throne is in heaven” (Psalm 123:1) the psalmist wrote.

That’s the response of those who can say, “My hope is in the name of the Lord.” Those who serve the Savior are not at the mercy of accident or disease. Advancing years do not mean the permanent loss of ability and vitality. They know there is more to life than that which can be seen or felt now.

They lift up their eyes to where the Good Shepherd is leading. They want to be with him.

The Rescuer of humankind no longer dwells here physically. Forty days after he conquered death he went back home. He went alone. But he left behind a promise: “In my Father’s house are many rooms.” He adds, “I am going there to prepare a place for you.”

So, we wait. We wait with eager anticipation. We wait for Jesus to return and take us to that place beyond.