“And next unto them the Tekoites repaired; but their nobles put not their necks to the work of their Lord. . . . After him Baruch the son of Zabbai earnestly repaired the other piece, from the turning of the wall unto the door of the house of Eliashib the high priest.” (Nehemiah 3:5, 20)

Nehemiah had recently arrived in Jerusalem from Persia, with a burden on his heart and a building permit in his hand. One night when most were asleep, he toured the ground where 140 years earlier the majestic walls of Zion had been. What he saw confirmed the awful report his brother Hananiah had brought to him at the Shushan palace. The situation in the city was pathetic.

So, the next day he gathered the discouraged leaders and laid out his ambitious plan, backed up with that royal permission: Let’s rebuild the walls!

And the people rallied to the challenge.

The men rolled up their sleeves, organized their families, and started removing the rubble in front of them. It did not matter where their skills lay. Priests picked up hammers, goldsmiths grabbed for picks, and Levites found shovels. Perfumers made their way to the ruins and even merchants closed their shops to work. One district leader even got his daughters to pitch in!

There was excitement in the air. After all, this was Jerusalem they were repairing, the city of David, the jewel of the earth!

Chapter three of Nehemiah identifies over forty separate job sites, all linked together to form a belt of protection around the city. Everyone worked eagerly on their section, spurred on by the contagious enthusiasm and energetic words of their dynamic leader. Well . . . almost.

Two notable exceptions break the general rule in the crowd of faithful builders.

First, there was a group from Tekoa making repairs, whose nobles were irresponsible and insubordinate. Not willing to follow orders from anyone, they loafed on the job while the other sites advanced rapidly.

Then there was a man named Baruch, whose work made you stop and look again. He built earnestly and efficiently, with such a spirit of excellence that Nehemiah singled him out as an example. His section carried the mark of a believer giving his very best for God.

This work list is representative of most Christian ministries.

There are always the faithful many, who do the job well. You can count on them. They are constant and dependable, and few projects are ever done without their contribution.

Then there are the slouchers, who criticize and scoff at the ones working. They refuse to apply themselves and are invariably a liability rather than an asset.

Finally, here and there, you find a Baruch. He represents the ones who continually exceed what you expect. If you hope for three they bring you five. If you ask for a mile, they give you two. If you look for a good job, they unveil a masterpiece.

A passage like this prompts a few serious questions. So, what kind of wall builder am I? Am I in the throng of the faithful? Am I one of those who lets others do the work? Or am I one who surpasses expectations and delivers only my very best?

Of one thing I can be sure. God also keeps lists.

Dear Father, help me tackle my tasks with the mind of Baruch, one that is grateful to You and happy for the privilege of even being at the wall. Amen.

“Joab the son of Zeruiah began to number, but he finished not, because there fell wrath for it against Israel; neither was the number put in the account of the chronicles of king David.” (1 Chronicles 27:24)

A fine line divides counting blessings from stacking trophies, and apparently David crossed it. Surely his normal habit was to excitedly number the good things God had done for him! We have many records of those joyful praises in the books of Samuel, Chronicles, and Psalms. But one particular day a dart dipped in pride pierced his thoughts and he began to consider his greatness apart from the Lord. His orders to Joab were laced with this poison and resulted in the unsheathing of a heavenly sword that killed 70,000 men.

The full record of this infamous census is in 2 Samuel 24, where we are forced to focus on the grave danger that lies in the shadow of success.

Whether it be in the ministry, in business, in studies, or even in family accomplishments, we are never far from displaying the blessings of God on shelves of personal merit. Tragically, the subtle shift in emphasis, the crossing of that line, can take place in very pious settings. We can share prayer requests in such a way that the good we have done is highlighted. We can write a letter containing gratitude to God but typed by a heart that is a bit too smug. Others may not detect the pride, but the LORD sees it immediately, and He will resist us.

Let’s guard our hearts with a suspicious eye so we do not fall into this trophy trap. When we count our blessings, let’s do so with motives as pure as a glass of spring water from the Pyrenees mountains. May our desire be to lift high the wonderful Name of Him Who is the Rewarder of the faithful.

Yes, it is good to count the blessings of our gracious God, but let’s not stack them up in a way that puts our name in line for glory.

“The woman saith unto him, Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not, neither come hither to draw. . . Then they went out of the city, and came unto him. . . And many more believed because of his own word;” (John 4:15,30,41)

There were a lot of thirsty people near Jacob’s well that day.

First was the Lord Jesus, who had been walking for several hours. He was tired, hot, and ready for a drink of cool water. Presumably, the disciples were just as eager to relieve their dry throats. The woman of Samaria, who came out for water in the heat of the day, was undoubtedly thirsty too.

But all of this thirst was merely physical. There was in the region a much more significant thirst. Just a stone’s throw away was a whole city full of men who were waiting for and hoping to see the Messiah.  Their thirst was spiritual.

Our Master was fully aware of this when, early that morning, he made the odd decision to head north, straight through Samaritan country. If He did so without warning, I can imagine the questioning glances that shot back and forth between the disciples. That was disgraceful territory, full of the descendants of compromisers and pagans. Yet, the Lord moved out with a determined step and with some unspoken purpose in mind.

As the twelve went into a town to buy food, the Savior sat and waited for the lonely, discouraged woman who was due at the well near mid-day. When she appeared, He requested a drink, which immediately provoked a conversation concerning ancient animosities between Jews and Samaritans.
However, the wise Master soon steered the conversation to more important matters, and within minutes had laid bare her horrible thirst.

For years, she had been searching for love and acceptance and peace.Five different times she had joined herself in marriage to men whom she expected would bring her true happiness. Finally, drained of any expectations of marital bliss, she junked the wedding and simply started living with the sixth one. Only that didn’t help either. Her life remained dry, miserable, and dead. In the barren soil of that heart, the Man of God now planted a seed of hope.

She hastily left her water pot and rushed back to the city. She knew a bunch of thirsty men in town; men who were slaves to sin, but still convinced of the need to worship the coming Messiah. They just had to meet this Stranger!

And so, the Lord knocked on their door, through the words of a wretched lady. She was nobody special. She was just a worldly, cynical woman of Sicar.  But when faced with her sin, she was honest and humble about it. Because of her testimony, three days later Jesus left behind a crowd whose terrible thirst of soul He had quenched.

How many times do we march right past the wells along our path without taking any interest in the individuals who, underneath the shiny surface of a modern look, are parched and thirsty for answers?

Dear Father, often I have been silent about You both in actions and speech. For many around me, I may be the closest one in Your family they will ever meet. Please help me reach out to boldly show them that You are the true God, and that You came to die for their redemption.  Amen.

“But as for me, this secret is not revealed to me for any wisdom that I have more than any living, but for their sakes that shall make known the interpretation to the king, and that thou mightest know the thoughts of thy heart.” (Daniel 2:30)

Why in the world would Daniel say a thing like that?

Here he was, about to reveal to Nebuch- adnezzar his supposedly forgotten dream and its meaning. This man was at the pinnacle of human power, so much so that even Daniel called him the king of kings later on in the passage. The young prophet held in his mind the key to saving his own neck, as well as those of every other wise man in the empire. He also was the possessor of an interpretation the king was willing to exchange for a fortune. So, a candid and unflattering statement like this one is not what we would expect.

A more normal attitude would have been to approach the royal throne with the secret excitement of having a priceless bit of news. What an opportunity to launch himself into prominence! To exploit the situation for personal gain was certainly what most of his peers would have done.

Sure, there was a certain amount of risk involved. Nebuchadnezzar was no one to play around with. He could be extravagantly generous when happy. But, he also had a royally unpredictable temper, capable of exploding with demonically cruel vengeance at the slightest disappointment. It is doubtful anyone was ever very comfortable in his presence. Unless, that is, you were someone like Daniel.

Although he may well have rehearsed his words as he walked towards the palace, his speech conveyed a striking sense of peace and tranquility. It was not a trembling, cowering wimp that informed the king that he could call off the execution squad and quit searching for answers.

Oh, he was respectful and courteous. But, he was also so totally confident in God’s control of the situation that he could be amazingly frank. To Nebuchadnezzar’s surprise, and ours as well, he shared his completely honest opinion of himself.

Even though he had the treasured information, he considered himself to be nobody special. He was simply the fortunate servant of Israel’s God; a privileged spokesman, yes, but just another man.

This level of integrity is rare, even among believers. While we may not go around looking for ways to crown ourselves with fame or notoriety, if the chance happens to land in front of us, we do not hesitate to take advantage of it.

What a pleasure it is to meet a believer who really does not care who or how many people know him or think highly of him, but whose only concern is that God receive all the glory possible. This Christian will not be trying to hide anything about himself, nor displaying any of his accomplishments, nor coloring the facts for his own benefit. Like Daniel, he is totally content in the reality of who he is and Who God is.

Dear Father, guard me from any craving for personal recognition or honor. Remind me often that any good thing I have is an undeserved gift.  Make me so fully confident in You that in any place, and before any person, I can be completely honest about myself.

1 Chronicles 17:1-2, 25

“Now it came to pass, as David sat in his house, that David said to Nathan the prophet, Lo, I dwell in an house of cedars, but the ark of the covenant of the LORD remaineth under curtains. Then Nathan said unto David, Do all that is in thine heart; for God is with thee. . . . For Thou, O my God, hast told Thy servant that Thou wilt build him an house: therefore Thy servant hath found in his heart to pray before Thee”

King David had thought of a project he was sure would delight the heart of God, and one that would be the crowning achievement of his reign: to build for Jehovah the most glorious temple ever erected by man.

The immediate encouragement Prophet Nathan gave him must have considerably strengthened his resolve. The one called “a man after God’s own heart” was sure that he had been given a green light to undertake this magnificent project.

So he must have really been stunned when the prophet returned a little while later with the shattering news . . . God had nixed his plan!

However, the Lord’s message was not altogether negative, for it came wrapped in grace. Along with the disappointing notice, Nathan also delivered a promise. This promise set the king to thinking, and soon the sting of disappointment vanished.

God was exchanging David’s plan for one incredibly better. Instead of him building a dwelling place for God, the Lord was going to prepare one for him!

This divinely constructed house would not be of marble or timber. David already lived comfortably in a mansion. No, what God intended to build was considerably grander than any mere physical structure could be. In fact, it had three amazing elements. It consisted of a line of royal sons, a glorious name that would never die (David is still a household word today), and an eternal place with God in heaven.

Notice especially the last phrase. Does it not ring a New Testament bell? Remember the words spoken to a group of bewildered disciples? “In my Father’s house are many mansions . . . I go to prepare a place for you.” (John 14:2)

Apparently, the meaning suddenly dawned on David! God was not speaking in merely earthly terms of time and space. He was talking on an eternal level, of matters that transcended this tiny globe and speck of history. That is why David responded as he did–in astonishment, praise, and worship!

Are we not like the former shepherd boy–poor, weak, sinful, and essentially worthless to an infinitely mighty and holy God? Is it not utterly impossible for any project within reach of our resources to WOW the LORD?

But our God is the same as David’s!

His character in the Old Testament was one of mercy and grace, and this promise to David was just one of many examples. In the New Testament this teaching is intensified and directed to us personally through the life and words of His Son Jesus.

Somehow it is true. No matter what I am able to do for Him in this life, the breathtaking truth is that He is actually building a place especially for me!

As it dawned on David, it should dawn on us too.

Dear Father, my greatest efforts for You are mere sand castles compared to the inheritance You are preparing for me. My only sensible response is to simply offer to You the sacrifice of humble praise and joyful worship. It is very little, yet it is the deepest and most meaningful gift I can give. Amen.

“Give me this mountain.” (Joshua 14:12)

Forty-five years before, Caleb had seen a mountain. He and eleven other men had spent forty days in a secret hike through what was then enemy territory. On the trek they had spied on the Amalekites, the Hittites, the Jebusites, the Amorites, and the Canaanites. But what most caught Caleb’s eyes was a mountain where the gigantic sons of Anak lived in fortified cities.

The leader of the reconnaissance party had been Caleb’s friend Joshua. Together they had felt the assurance of the Lord surge in their hearts as they quietly looked upon the doomed enemies. Their souls were alive with the optimism and certainty of a victory guaranteed by their almighty God.

I think Caleb mentioned his particular interest to his partner. Maybe the two of them clasped hands on the idea, prayed together, and praised the Lord for His goodness.

But to their dismay the attitude of their ten friends began to sour. Day after day the tone of conversation became more despondent. What had started out as an exciting adventure was turning into a terrifying nightmare. The overwhelming number of their opponents had chipped away the surface faith of the other men and exposed their unbelief.

All this had happened nearly a half a century before. Now, five years into the Promised Land conquest, Caleb once again set his eyes on the mountain he and Joshua had sighted. The promise God had made to the faithful young spy was alive and healthy in the now old fighter’s mind. Although he had had to wait for an entire generation of Israelites to die off, the Lord had preserved his strength and brought him to this moment. The time was ripe for the fulfillment of his dream.

So Caleb stepped forward to claim his mountain prize.

It should not surprise us that Joshua had not forgotten it, nor had God.

It is never fun to watch youthful dreams fade into mist, but the Bible is full of examples of just that. Abraham waited decades for the promised son. Joseph spent years wondering how on earth the bowing sheaves and stars could possibly become a reality. For forty years the shepherd Moses silently grieved over a mission that appeared lost forever.

Using our own mistakes or those of others, God will often weave into our life’s work lengthy seasons of waiting. Do not give in to disheartening thoughts of weakness, age, or liabilities. Stay ready and expectant, and definitely don’t rush matters your own way. Abraham and Moses tried that and both regretted it deeply. When the time is right for us to claim the mountain God has promised us, the wisdom and strength will be there.

Dear Father, it is in me to always want answers right away. I feel like ignorance is necessarily bad, and that if I can’t understand everything around me, I am missing something I deserve. Teach me to relax and trust when dreams seem to fade into the distance. Knowing You is my highest priority and Your will, in Your good time, is all I want. Amen.

—Andy Bonikowsky

(Genesis 1:3 & Matthew 9:9)

“And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. . . .

And as Jesus passed forth from thence, he saw a man, named Matthew, sitting at the receipt of custom: and he saith unto him, Follow me. And he arose, and followed him.“

The first to obey God’s voice in the Bible was light…or was it nothing? The actual facts are that God spoke to nothing and told light to exist. Nothing responded, so to speak, and there was light.

Sure, that sounds sort of odd, but by focusing on the creation this way, we are reminded of a very important Biblical truth. God is the One who both speaks and empowers. He is the ultimate reason for every good thing that is ever created or happens. When the Lord spoke to the deaf and dumb void, reality sprung into being.

The process continued after light was created, when the firmament and water appeared, and then dry land showed itself. Next the Lord spoke and all herbs and trees snapped into sight. Then again came the creating Word, and the sun, moon, and stars turned on.

Next in line to respond in obedience to the Maker’s voice were the birds and sea animals, followed by every other living creature on earth. Finally, the culminating moment arrived, though in a curious twist of the pattern, Jehovah did not speak to nothing this time. He picked up some already made dust, personally formed it into a man, and made woman from him.

The entire sequence of creation came about in a chain of perfect obedience to the Words of God.

And how could it be otherwise?

All of this was beautiful and glorious and right. The Creator and His creation communicated in perfect harmony. His speech produced instant fruit.

Part of the mystery and marvel of it all was in the amazing Word that came from God. The sound was directed towards the powerless blank space, which by itself could do nothing. But with the Word came the very power needed for obedience. Ultimately it was all from God!

This perfect formula hasn’t changed over the centuries. The process of faith happens when impotent man hears the Word, and embraces it, knowing that with it comes the power to obey.

He who has ears to hear will pay attention to the Word of God. He will not pretend to have any special ability in himself but will expect to receive it from the very Word he hears. After all, faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God.

The Word that was in the beginning, that was with God, and was God, continues to speak through the Scriptures. He calls out to man with words that cannot be misunderstood . . . only disobeyed.

“Follow me.”

How tragic that as far back as Eden man has used his God-given power of choice, to go against the example of light and firmament and tree and sun. The very quality that is our unique crown is turned into a deadly noose.

Today, the same challenge stands. I am not forced to respond correctly, like nature around me. Rather, it is my privilege to obey willingly, with thankfulness, with praise, with awe.

Dear Father, I look to You and want to obey. Help me remember that even as I read Your Word and hear Your voice, You are offering the power to say, “Yes, Lord.” and act. Amen.

—Andy Bonikowsky

(Job 1:10; 3:23)

“Wherefore Jesus also, that he might sanctify the people with his own blood, suffered without the gate. Let us go forth therefore unto him without the camp, bearing his reproach. For here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come.” (Hebrews 13:12-14)

Various cities in the Middle East fuss over which is the most ancient. Among the contenders are cities like Jerusalem, Byblos, Jericho, and Damascus. The debate often spars over definitions, involving the claims of uninterrupted habitation, the presence of the oldest ruins, and so forth. Some argue with archeology while others dig up their evidence from the writings of age-old historians.

The writer of Hebrews would not have taken sides in this squabble. He had his sights much higher than any earthly city. He had read the Biblical record of city builders like Nimrod, Pharoah, and Nebuchadnezzar. He was not ignorant of the glories of Niniveh, Pithom, and Babylon. But he was not too impressed with their splendor and power.

All of that dazzle was now sealed and useless in the coffins of history. Yes, they had risen, and they had shined. But their glory had forever fizzled out.

It was a different class of man and city that caught the author’s eye. These were Old Testament heroes who had shown a distinct aversion to sinking their roots into earthly soil. In one way or another, many of them forfeited temporary homes in favor of deeds to heavenly mansions.

Enoch simply walked away and disappeared.

Noah built a boat and said goodbye to every place he had ever known.

Abraham turned his back on Ur of the Chaldees and headed for the Promised Land, only to keep on living in tents when he arrived.

Moses had grown up in the luxurious palaces of the Nile, yet he voluntarily chose to leave that all behind and take off for the desert with a multitude of complainers. Why? He had discovered that the reward for bearing Christ’s reproach was worth infinitely more than all the treasures of Egypt.

Even Rahab the harlot came to set her priorities by this rule. With no hesitation that we know of she exchanged her house on the wall for the fantastic, but unknown, inheritance with the children of God.

Yet all of these examples were mere shadows of the Perfect One who would descend into the manger at Bethlehem. This Man ministered for three intense years with less of a home than foxes or birds. At the end of His ministry He walked right into the heart of Israel’s most important city to be cruelly beaten and shamed . . . but not to die.

He would not even die inside an earthly city.

The anonymous writer of the epistle wants to emphasize his point. Those who name the Name of Christ do not seek permanent residence on earth. They don’t expect to or want to continue here.

So, what do I look for? Are my eyes focused on the stuff of this world? Do I quietly yearn for the stability of the visible, tangible things of this earth? Do I get antsy if others have more, or better, or prettier?

Then maybe I am still seeking a city down here.

Dear Father, open my eyes to see your city. Tune my ears to hear its music and prepare my heart to worship its Builder.

—Andy Bonikowsky