Signs and Satire

Numbers 6:1–27; John 13:21–38; Psalm 7:1–17

The images of judgment in Psa 7 are sometimes hard to take. We are so acquainted with a God of love that it’s difficult to understand a God who blinds eyes, hardens hearts, and “has indignation every day” (Psa 7:11). While these passages paint a picture of a judging God, they also emphasize how foolish and evil people can be—specifically focusing on those who push the boundaries of God’s mercy and thus eventually find themselves outside of it.
In Psalm 7, God is preparing to judge the evil man. Suddenly, the psalm switches focus to the evil man’s situations: “See, he travails with evil.

He is pregnant with trouble, and he gives birth to deception. He makes a pit and digs it out, then falls in the trap he has made” (Psa 7:14–15). The evil man’s folly is directly correlated to God’s just judgment. God is ready and willing to forgive those who repent. But the evil man dwells in evil—he conceives it and is intimately connected to it. He gives birth to it. What’s more, he is willingly walking into his own punishment. His actions of digging a pit and falling into his own trap expose his foolishness—that he has effectively judged himself, as “His trouble comes back on his head, and his violence comes down on his skull” (Psa 7:16).

The same sentiment is expressed in the Gospel of John. “But as many signs as he had performed before them, they did not believe in him” (John 12:37). While they had ample opportunity to believe Jesus’ words, the Jewish people depicted in the passage chose not to believe in Jesus. They had even seen miracles. But because of their unbelief, they brought about their own judgment. And although they had an opportunity to believe, they abandoned it; thus, it was “taken away.”

These passages illuminate the folly of the decision to disobey. The judgment brought on those who disobey is really their own doing. It’s all the more reason to believe in the just God whose sacrifice defines what love is all about.

Are you hesitant in your commitment to Jesus? What is keeping you from devoting totally to Him?

John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).

It May Seem Bland

Numbers 3:1–39; John 12:1–19; Psalm 3–4

Let’s just admit it: genealogies and lists, like the one in Num 3:1–39, are the most boring elements of the Bible. But they do something for us that other formats cannot—they give us a sense of history and lineage.

With a genealogy, we can do more than just trace people; we can map their relationships to others and to the events that happen through those relationships. We can also determine who was involved in those major events.

Genealogies and lists give us a small glimpse into God’s providential work, even though we may not recognize them as such. God worked among the people in those lists. He chose to use them. They didn’t deserve to be used by God in mighty ways, but they were.

Some of the people in Num 3:1–39 were given seemingly insignificant tasks: “The responsibility of the sons of Merari was the supervision of the frames of the tabernacle, its bars, pillars, bases, and all its vessels and all its service,” among other things (Num 3:36). If most of us were given this assignment, we would probably think it lame and ask for another. But the sons of Merari likely understood that anything God asks of us should be followed through with honor.

The people listed in Num 3:1–39 were likely selected because they believed they would see God’s glory. God may ask us to do things that seem insignificant or crazy, but if we don’t, we will miss out on seeing His glory.

What is God asking of you that seems insignificant or crazy?

John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).

The Power and the Glory

Numbers 1:47–2:34; John 11:28–57; Psalm 2:1–12

In our day-to-day life, we acknowledge God’s power and encourage others to believe in it. Yet sometimes it takes a trial for us to realize the extent and reality of our confession.
The disciples misunderstand Jesus’ reference to death and resurrection (John 11:11–12), so He displays His power through a trial and a miracle—the death and raising of Lazarus.

Before Jesus has raised Lazarus, Mary and Martha express, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (John 11:21, 32). While their statement is a confession, it reveals their limited view of Jesus’ power. The crowd echoes Mary and Martha’s sentiment: “Was not this man who opened the eyes of the blind able to do something so that this man also would not have died?” (John 11:37).

Yet, they don’t realize that Jesus has been planning for this moment to provide them with a chance to believe. (Of course, Jesus knows He could have come earlier; He chose not to so He could use this as an example.)

Jesus uses this miracle to challenge and encourage them while showing them that He is the source of life. The question He poses to Martha should be one we all consider: “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die forever. Do you believe this?” (John 11:25–26).

What trials has God used to show you that He is the true life?

John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).

Reality Can Bite

Leviticus 23–25; John 10:1–21; Song of Solomon 8:6–9

Reality shows are all about people who are known or want to be known—they have celebrity syndrome. The root cause of this obsession is probably, like most things, a disconnect from our Maker. As people disconnect from the God who made us, we seek affirmation from other sources. And as wrong as this desire may be, our culture makes it feel like second nature.

The Jewish people Jesus spoke to also felt displaced. They were a people who had lost touch with their guide—their shepherd. Jesus is the answer to their call.

Echoing Ezekiel 34:11–24, He says, “I am the good shepherd, and I know my own, and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father.” But Jesus goes one step further by adding, “and I lay down my life for the sheep” (John 10:14–15). Jesus promises that He will know us, and by echoing the very words of God, He is claiming that He is the God of Israel—He is the way God will know us. He offers the affirmation we’ve been looking for; He essentially says, “I chose you.”

But lest we understand this passage only to be about Jesus fulfilling what God had promised to the Jewish people, He remarks, “And I have other sheep which are not from this fold. I must bring these also, and they will hear my voice, and they will become one flock—one shepherd. Because of this the Father loves me, because I lay down my life so that I may take possession of it again” (John 10:16–17).

Jesus came as our good shepherd, as the one who guides us back to God. When we have the urge to obsess over those who are known to the world, or when we desire to be known ourselves, we can be assured that Jesus knows us. He knows you, and me, and He was still willing to die for us.

In what ways are you seeking to be known by people or obsessing over those who are well-known? What can you do to change that?

John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).

Patiently Waiting

Leviticus 20:1–22:33; John 9:35–41; Song of Solomon 8:1–5

Delayed gratification is a foreign concept to our natural instincts. Our culture doesn’t encourage patience or contentment; we would prefer to have our desires met the moment they arise.

The woman in Song of Solomon tells us that she is delighted in her beloved. She praises his attributes and tells of the wonders of their love. But throughout the poem, at seemingly random moments, she also warns the daughters of Jerusalem about love: “I adjure you … do not arouse or awaken love until it pleases!” (Song 8:4).

This is not the first time she has “adjured” them to wait and have patience: the same refrain is found elsewhere in the poem, and it acts like an oath (Song 2:7; 3:5). Although the elevated poetry glories in love, delight, and fulfillment, it also warns about immediate gratification. The woman urges us not to force love. It is something that must be anticipated and protected, not enjoyed before it’s time.

It doesn’t feel natural to wait and anticipate, but in many ways, staying faithful and being hopeful characterizes our faith. Waiting doesn’t mean we’re not bold or risk-takers. It means we’re faithful to God—we’re waiting for things to happen in His time. We know God has something planned for us that is beyond our expectations.

How are you patiently waiting and anticipating?

John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).

The Day of Atonement

Leviticus 15–16; John 9:1–12; Song of Solomon 7:5–9

When it comes to the cost of sin, the average person probably thinks in terms of “What can I get away with?” rather than “What does this cost me and other people emotionally?” These calculations aren’t made in terms of life and death, but that is literally the case when it comes to sin.

The Day of Atonement is a beautiful, though horrific, illustration of this. It takes three innocent animals to deal with the people’s sin: one to purify the high priest and his family, one to be a sin offering to Yahweh that purifies the place where He symbolically dwelt (the holy of holies), and one to be sent into the wilderness to remove the people’s transgressions (Lev 16:11, 15–16, 21–22).

After the blood of the first two animals is spilled on the Day of Atonement—demonstrating the purification of God’s people—the final goat demonstrates God’s desire to completely rid the people of their sin. “Aaron shall place his two hands on the living goat’s head, and he shall confess over it all the Israelites’ iniquities and all their transgressions for all their sins, and he shall put them on the goat’s head, and he shall send it away into the desert” (Lev 16:21).

The Day of Atonement symbolized God’s desire for His people: one day, sin would no longer stand between God and His children. Like the goat, Jesus lifts the people’s iniquities (Isa 53:12). He fulfills this prophecy, becoming the ultimate ransom; no other sacrifice is ever needed.

As the author of Hebrews says, “For the law appoints men as high priests who have weakness, but the statement of the oath, after the law, appoints a Son, who is made perfect forever” (Heb 7:28). He then goes onto say, “And every priest stands every day serving and offering the same sacrifices many times, which are never able to take away sins. But this one, after he had offered one sacrifice for sins for all time, sat down at the right hand of God” (Heb 10:11–12).

The price of sin may be great, but Christ has paid that price.

In what ways do you take Jesus’ sacrifice for granted? What can you do differently?

John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).

The Light of the World

Leviticus 12:1–13:59; John 8:12–30; Song of Solomon 6:11–13

“I am the light of the world! The one who follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). While some of Jesus’ “I am” statements confused the Jews, the “following the light” imagery would have been familiar. God had led the Israelites out of Egypt and through the wilderness with a pillar of fire so they could walk at night (Exod 13:21). They couldn’t deflect or misunderstand this claim.

Jesus used this imagery to show the Jews that He offers clarity and meaning in a dark world. He offers life, grace, and spiritual awakening to those who are lost in the darkness. But the Pharisees couldn’t comprehend the light; they misinterpreted Jesus’ claims and fumbled around in the darkness and the details (John 8:19, 22, 25, 27).

When we’ve elevated ourselves in the darkness, it’s hard to humble ourselves in the light.
Even when we have inklings that tell us there is a better way, we don’t want to sacrifice our own pride. We prefer to be contrary and comfortable—to dwell on the details and exert our own opinions. But if we never call out the darkness, we’ll never experience the flooding of light.

Are you calling out the darkness in and around you?

John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).

Grace among the Graphic

Leviticus 9–11; John 7:53–8:11; Song of Solomon 6:6–10

“Then he slaughtered the burnt offering, and Aaron’s sons brought the blood to him, and he sprinkled it on the altar all around; and they brought the burnt offering to him by its pieces, as well as the head, and he burned them on the altar” (Lev 9:12–13). There are graphic scenes like this throughout the Bible, especially in Leviticus. But they act as a reminder of what sacrifice looks like and what it really means.

Even though Jesus would ultimately make the greatest sacrifice of all—laying down His life for the sins of others—He did not hold people’s sins against them. Although Jesus understood that He would be brutalized like the animals sacrificed during Aaron’s day, He chose to forgive people. When a woman “caught in adultery” was brought before Jesus, He did not sentence her to death, as was demanded by the Jewish authorities and laws of His time. Instead, He said, “The one of you without sin, let him throw the first stone at her!” (John 8:7). And Jesus says the same to us today. Only those without sin can throw a stone or cast judgment on others—and that’s none of us.

We shouldn’t use this as an excuse, though. We shouldn’t say, “What happens between you and God and between you and others is up to you.” Instead, we must call each other forward to follow Christ. Jesus has forgiven us, but this doesn’t excuse our sins. Similarly, we can’t use Jesus’ graciousness as an excuse to continue sinning.

We must remember grace and offer that grace to one another. Indeed, we must not judge, but we must not excuse sin in the process. In being gracious both to ourselves and others, we must remember why we have the ability to do so: Jesus died the brutal death of a sacrifice. It was His body that was torn apart and His flesh that was flung. (It’s just as harsh as it sounds.)

I don’t say any of this to make us feel guilty, but to remind all of us of the price Jesus paid for our freedom.

Jesus died so that we could be one with God, not so that we could continue to sin against the God He unified us with. As Jesus says at the end of this scene, after everyone had left, “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and sin no more” (John 8:11).

In what ways are you misappropriating grace?

John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).

Danger in the Sphere of Influence

Leviticus 7:1–8:36; John 7:45–52; Song of Solomon 6:1–5

Leadership is like a bright spotlight; when the heat intensifies, it’s difficult to conceal the areas where we fail. But that’s where true character is revealed.

The Pharisees didn’t fare well with the pressure of authority. We can see why Jesus had such compassion for the masses by observing the Pharisees’ behavior in John 7. After Jesus claimed to be the source of life and ratcheted up the conflict, the Pharisees became angry. Sensing that their authority was slipping, they judged Jesus before they had a chance to give Him a hearing. They intimidated Nicodemus, harshly rebuked the captains, and cursed the people: “this crowd who does not know the law is accursed!” (John 7:49).

Those who hold positions of authority have great influence—a reason why bad authority can be so detrimental: “Not many should become teachers, my brother, because you know that we will receive a greater judgment” (Jas 3:1). But influence isn’t relegated to leaders, supervisors, or pastors. Anyone who has a measure of influence over others should carefully consider how they use that trust.

When we have earthly teachers who let us down, we can turn to God, our heavenly teacher. For those who were under the heavy hand of the Pharisees, Jesus’ words must have been as refreshing and soothing as the water He spoke of: “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me, and let him drink, the one who believes in me” (John 7:37–38).

How are you using your authority to lead others to Christ? How can you seek out forgiveness from those you may have harmed?

John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).

Dwelling in the Wilderness

Leviticus 1–3, John 7:1–13, Song of Solomon 6:1–5

The book of Leviticus can feel distant, abstract, and even absurd. Its opening chapters discuss odd offerings made at the tent of meeting, where God met His people when they were wandering in the wilderness after the exodus. Yet, the book signals an appreciation for all things: animals, crops, and the general need for peace—both between people and between God and people.

In Leviticus, we also find the setup for the entire Gospel of John; Jesus’ life is cast as an offering to make all people one with God again. We find the background information for Isa 53, where the Suffering Servant dies and is resurrected on behalf of God’s people. Much of the Old and New Testaments require a general understanding of Leviticus.

Not only do these ancient rituals show the need to appreciate the entire created order, they also show how much we should appreciate a faith that doesn’t require all these rituals.
Leviticus shows the distance between God and His people. The amount of work required to get near Him is enormous. And it’s not because God wanted it that way, it’s because a holy (set apart) God cannot come near the unholy. Holiness rituals were required for Him to interact with His people—a temporary way for people to reach Him.

Just as God camped in the middle of His people in the wilderness, today He wants to set up His tent in the middle of our lives. And this is precisely what we witness in the beginning of John’s Gospel when Jesus “dwells among us,” which literally translates as, “took up residence among us.” God dwelled among His people in the wilderness, just as He dwells in our lives today.

Are there areas of your life you don’t want God to dwell in? What could you change to invite Him in?

John D. Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk, Connect the Testaments: A One-Year Daily Devotional with Bible Reading Plan (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012).