Standing Firm in the Grace of God

We turn to Your Word, gracious God. Your Word is a lamp to our feet, a light to our path,[1] food for our souls, a map for our journey, everything that we need for life and for godliness.[2] And we thank you for the privilege of being students of it, and we pray that the Spirit of God will illumine it to our hearts and lives as we study now. And we pray in Christ’s name. Amen.

Shepherds

In 1945—some of you were around (I wasn’t)—in 1945, the Church of England, their commission on evangelism, produced a plan dedicated to the memory of Archbishop William Temple. The plan was entitled Towards the Conversion of England. I’m not going to allow myself to interact with that in light of the present state of the C of E at home, but nevertheless, it was Towards the Conversion of England. It drew attention in its conclusion to leadership, saying, “Conditions … vary … from parish to parish: the … determining factor being, apparently, the personality of the incumbent. More particularly is this the case in villages where a spiritual leader can often make an astonishing difference.”[3]

Now, we can make of that what we wish, and certainly much has changed in the ensuing eighty years. But one thing that has never changed is the strategic necessity for godly and useful leadership in the company of God’s people. We read through the pages of Scripture and we rehearse church history to remind ourselves without question that the church of Jesus Christ does not advance beyond the spiritual progress of its leaders. And Peter understands that perfectly, for all kinds of reasons and coming out of all sorts of situations.

So it’s no surprise that as he begins to wrap his letter up, here in the first verse, “So…” he says. “So,” he says, “in light of all that I have written,” he might have said, “allow me to exhort particularly the elders among you.” The word there for “exhort,” in classical Greek, is used of encouraging troops to go into battle. When Paul uses the same terminology in Romans 12,[4] he does so on the basis of his apostolic authority. Peter has introduced himself at the beginning of the letter as an apostle,[5] but you will notice here that his appeal is not as an apostle but as a fellow elder: “So I exhort the elders among you, as a fellow elder.”

Now, when we read the Acts of the Apostles, we realize that they went around, they proclaimed the gospel, they made disciples, and before they left, they brought the newfound congregations together underneath the leadership, as God intended, and they appointed elders in the church. Those leaders in the church were the ones who were supposed to feed the flock and lead the flock. They are those who are “keeping watch over your souls”[6]—so not only to feed and to lead but to watch and to warn. And they watch over the souls of those under their care “as those who must give an account.”[7] That’s Hebrews 13.

So he says, “I appeal to you not only as a fellow elder but also as a witness of the suffering of Christ, as well as a partaker in the glory that is going to be revealed.” We can’t stop on this. It’s an interesting question for you over coffee: In what sense was he a witness of the sufferings of Christ? But that’s for you and not for me right now. All I want to point out is that he is never far from this theme that runs through: suffering and glory, a cross before a crown. And as he began in chapter 1, he is reinforcing it here.

Somewhere along the line, of course, in the journey of Peter’s own pilgrimage, there was a big change. Because you will recall that when Jesus is explaining to his disciples that he is going to go up to Jerusalem, he will suffer at the hands of cruel men, and he will die, we’re told that Peter took him aside. He took him aside: “[Lord,] this shall never happen to you.”[8] “There’s not going to be suffering for you, Lord Jesus.” And he was still on at that when, in the arrest in the garden of Gethsemane, he is the one who reaches for his sword.[9] He is still seeking to prevent the very thing for which Christ has come. But, of course, we know that the resurrection changes things, the outpouring of the Holy Spirit changes things, and it is in that established understanding that he now takes up the privilege of doing what Jesus told him he needed to do: feed his lambs and “tend my sheep.”[10] And he’s going to do so as one who is partaking ultimately in a glory that will be revealed as he walks the pathway of suffering.

Now, let’s just pick up in verse 2 with the clear exhortation “Shepherd the flock of God.” In the King James Version, it says, “Feed the flock of God”—which, of course, makes perfect sense, because shepherds are responsible for leading the sheep into pasture. My grandfather on my father’s side was a shepherd in the Highlands of Scotland, way up in the north of Caithness. I never had the privilege of meeting him, but I do have a crook that he used. And I keep it, and every so often I say to myself, “I wonder how many little lambs he managed to pull off the cliffs of Thurso and how many unruly creatures he rapped on the nose with the end of his stick.” He was a shepherd.

The feeding of the people of God, or the shepherding of the people of God, is a picture, of course, which is at the very heart of things. I met a young man from Scotland this morning—and it’s always good to meet a native. And we didn’t have a long time to talk, but depending on the background out of which he’s come, he might have been, like me, able, even as a boy, to recite the Twenty-Third Psalm. The Twenty-Third Psalm, sung to the tune of “Crimond,” is known, actually, off by heart. It’s almost like the national anthem of Scotland before they took on the other national anthem, which they sing at the rugby matches. But the Twenty-Third Psalm—I mention it because it is a description of the Shepherd and the Overseer of our souls.[11] Who embodies the Twenty-Third Psalm more than the Lord Jesus himself? And so, for your homework, you can ponder how, taking up the exhortation of “shepherding the flock among you”—or shepherding “the flock … that is among you”—can be understood in terms of the Twenty-Third Psalm. The provision of nourishment: He leads us in paths of righteousness. The benefit of restoration: The elders of the church have in view the well-being of those under their care, making sure that they are provided for, that they are restored, that they are consoled. “You provide comfort for me”[12]—that they are protected. “You prepare a table before me in the presence of the enemies, and you provide, ultimately, a destination to which we move.”[13]

The picture of the Twenty-Third Psalm I find helpful and I find at the same time challenging. Is that something of what Peter might have in mind when he says, “This is what you are to do: Shepherd the flock of God”? It’s interesting, isn’t it, that it says, “that is among you”? That’s actually why I stumbled over it: Because I was thinking about it. “That is among you.” He doesn’t say, “Shepherd the flock of God that you are among.”

Now, yesterday, I got invited to a birthday party. I never saw so many people from one family in one place. It didn’t help that we all had to wear ridiculous party hats, but when we finally took the picture and I reflected on it, I said, “I’m not so sure that I was part of them, but I was among them. They were everywhere!” And sheep are like that. That’s what happens when you’re in a church: They’re among you. They’re like your grandchildren: “Could you just get out from underneath me here, please? I’m not sure that I want to be among you in quite this way.” But we are—exercising guidance and exercising oversight, providing the Word of God as we’re given the privilege of teaching it.

Who is it that we’re giving to them as we feed them? We’re giving to them Jesus. We’re not just finding the way the Old Testament is finally revealed in Jesus, as if it was some kind of mechanism, like a “find the answer to the question.” Young pastors, you can find the answer to that question, and yet we can fail to give our congregation Jesus. “Did you offer Jesus to them?” would be the question of the Puritans. And fascinatingly, John Stott, in his book The Incomparable Christ, makes this statement in relationship to Scripture: “The Bible ‘will give Christ to you … in an intimacy so close that he would be less visible to you if he stood before your eyes.’”[14] Well, we can unpack that, I think—Jesus, the Bread of Life,[15] the Living Water.[16] I think it’s quite ironic that we had so much rain, and then we have no water. And “What, never thirst again? No, never thirst again.”[17] I got to change that to “What, never shower again? No, never shower again.” I’m glad of this sweatshirt; it covers a multitude of sins.

Well, how is this exercising of oversight to be done? Well, it’s to be done as the text says. It’s a privileged responsibility to be entrusted with sheep. And the challenges of it are known to all who enjoy the responsibility. That which is immediately observable is not necessarily representative of the hidden battles that are involved in being entrusted with the privilege of leadership—the peculiar challenges of dealing with the advance of the powers of darkness, the unrepeatable and yet enormously unseen demands of exercising oversight. Reminder, a little mark in the margin: “I should pray for my vicar a little more than I do.”

Also, if you were to ask, “Why do you do what you do?” hopefully the answer would be on the right side of this equation here: not by compulsion—not by compulsion but with a genuine sense of willingness. Not a grudging, reluctant responsibility. Not becoming jaded, not becoming whatever it might be. Not by compulsion.

Not for shameful gain—“filthy lucre” in the King James Version—and everything that goes along with that, the dangers that are attached to it. “That’s not…” he says. “If you’re going to exercise your leadership, it better not be ruled by that.”

And certainly, in verse 3, “I hope you’re not exercising it in order that you might be able to rule the roost.” Rule the roost: “domineering over those in your charge.” The sheep are God’s sheep. The flock is God’s flock. The elder has the privilege of participating. And the best that we can do is be examples to the flock.

And as we do, keep our eyes on the prize. Verse 4: “And when the chief Shepherd appears”—he will appear—“you will receive the unfading crown of glory.” The picture here often—and I think in the second letter particularly—the background in many of these things is the prizes that would be awarded in athletic competitions. And the amaranth flower was often used, apparently, because of the way it kept its bloom over a fairly long period of time, as opposed to other flowers that might fade quickly.

Peter, I think, is on to this in a particular way, because in his second letter, when he’s doing much the same thing and he’s saying, “Add to your faith goodness,”[18] and so on, and he then says—you see, he holds out this thing—“The Shepherd is going to appear, and this is what’s going to happen: The day will dawn when you will pass through the entry into heaven,”[19] he says—and “in this way you there will be richly provided for you an entrance into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.”[20] Actually, in the King James Version, I think it’s better, because it says, “And you will receive an abundant entrance.”[21] “An abundant entrance.” The picture is of a returning athlete who goes back to the city, and instead of having her or him brought through the normal gates of the city, they broke down a partition in the wall, garlanded it, and then it was through that portico that the triumph was then revealed and enjoyed.

When all my labors and trials are o’er,
And I am safe on that beautiful shore,
Just to be [with] the dear Lord I adore
Will through the ages be glory for me.[22]

Challenges now, finishing then—in the way in which we’ve been singing this morning. We’ve sung very much. And I imagine that these people, they think very carefully; they read their Bibles. It’s been wonderful! It’s been wonderful. And as we sang this morning, it made me think of the Queen’s funeral. You say, “Well, thank you for sharing that.” But no. She had three hymns. She preached from the grave, I believe. The first one was “The Day Thou Gavest, Lord, is Ended.” It was sung at Queen Victoria’s funeral; it was sung at the transition of Hong Kong from British rule to Hong Kong. How does it finish?

So be it, Lord; thy throne shall never,
Like earth’s proud empires, pass away;
[Your] kingdom stands and grows forever,
Till all [your] creatures own [your] sway![23]

Wow! Do you think she thought that out? Yeah.

“The Day Thou Gavest, Lord, Is Ended,” the Twenty-Third Psalm, and “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling”:

Finish then, thy new creation;
Pure and spotless let [it] be.
Let us see thy great salvation
Perfectly restored in thee.
Changed from glory into glory,
Till in heaven we take our place

—get this—

Till we cast our crowns before thee,
Lost in wonder, love, and praise.[24]

You see, there was only one person to whom the Queen referred to as “Your Majesty.” That’s what Peter is saying here: “Make sure your exercise of leadership is as God intended and as Jesus exemplified.”

Humility

And since the elders are to fulfill their calling in a spirit of submission to God, the active practice of humility is a garment to be worn—verse 5: “Clothe yourselves, all of you.” “All of you.”

Particularly, he wants to make mention of the younger folks, because younger folks have a propensity for thinking we know how to do everything. In writing in the Wall Street Journal some time ago, Peggy Noonan, describing the present generation, said this: “For 30 years the self-esteem movement told the young that they’re perfect in every way. It’s yielding something new in history: an entire generation with no proper sense of inadequacy.”[25]

Humility. Put it on! The exhortation is not to feel humble. It’s not to pretend to be humble like Uriah Heep in David Copperfield. What a character he is! No, the picture of humility is a Jesus picture again, isn’t it? It’s John 13. It’s tying on the apron when his fellows see there is no particular interest that any one of them has in dealing with the feet of his friend. And Jesus ties that—he egkomboomai—he ties it around his waist. And then he washes the feet of his disciples. He washes the feet of the betrayer. He washes the feet of the denier. He washes the feet of each of them who, in short order, would be locked in a room for fear that they might end up as their master was ending up.

It’s a problem, pride, isn’t it? (There should be a “Yes!” from that. People are nudging their husbands: “Come on! You know that.”) Tillich, whom I don’t want to really quote, said every day, in a thousand ways, we seek to make ourselves the center of the universe. And that’s a real problem, because we’re not the center of the universe. We aren’t even the center of our own little universe. And when that begins to take hold in leadership in a church and begins to permeate the flavor of the church, it is a real danger, because friendships are broken; family ties are strained; fellowship is destroyed. Because humility is about serving rather than being served. It’s about giving rather than taking. It’s about responding versus commanding. It’s about fitting into the plans of others, not demanding that they fit into ours.

I hope I’m getting better at this. I don’t know. I’ve got an illustration as I stand here, because given my druthers, I always like to read my own Scripture reading, ’cause it gives me a sense of whether I have a voice or whether I don’t. It was very clear to me that I wasn’t going to read my own Scripture reading. So a little thing inside me says, “Well, wait a minute!” And then the other thing inside me said, “Shut up. It’s not your program.” And for me, that’s a tiny advance. It may not seem much to you, but I’m taking some encouragement in it. God sets himself against the haughty and the arrogant. He brings down the mighty from their thrones[26]—the Magnificat.

Humility is about serving rather than being served. It’s about giving rather than taking. It’s about responding versus commanding.

And the final phrase of verse 6 in relationship to this is actually not a motivation, I don’t believe; it’s an explanation: “Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you.” It’s not “Try and do this, and maybe that’ll happen.” It is straightforward: God lives “in [the] high and [the] holy place, but also with the one who is contrite and lowly in spirit.”[27] “This is the one to whom I will look,” says the Lord—Isaiah 66:2—“he who is humble and contrite in spirit and trembles at my word.” Think what it meant for Peter to write this! “Jesus, I can’t speak for everybody else, but I can speak for myself: Even if they all bail on you, you can count on me. I’ll be with you right to the end.”[28] “Humble yourselves.” “Humble yourselves.”

I’ve found—I thought maybe, as you get older, that many of these things that are such a trial to us will just begin to evaporate with time. I used to look at people at my age now, when I was young, as some of you are, and say, “Well, it must be great. You get up there, and then you don’t have to deal with a lot of that stuff anymore.” No, it gets worse, I think. It gets worse. I remember walking with a friend in Boston, and I said to him, “What are you thinking about at the moment?” He was running a big family ministry. He’s very, very well known in America. I said, “What are you praying at the moment?” This is what he said: “One of my prayers is this: ‘Dear Lord Jesus, do not allow me to become a dirty old man.’” I thought, “Wow! That’s weird.”

Simeon, whom we’ve already mentioned, was powerfully effective. There were correctives in Simeon’s life that came from all kinds of sources. John Thornton, who I think was the church warden in his time, wrote on one occasion to his vicar, “Watch continually over your own spirit, and do all in love. We must grow [downward] in humility to soar heavenward. I should recommend [you] having a watchful eye over yourself, for generally speaking as is the minister so are the people.”[29] Rutherford, Samuel: “Be humbled,” he writes, “walk softly, down … with your top sail: stoop, stoop; it is a low entry to go in at heaven’s [gate].”[30]

We could spend the balance of the time on this. It is such a challenge. And yet we won’t.

Anxiety

Let’s move from humility to anxiety—something that we need to cultivate, with the help of the Spirit of God, and now something that we need to try and see less significant in our lives, with the help of the Spirit of God.

You’ll notice the imperative is “Humble yourself,” and when you get to the verb for “casting,” it is a present participle. So he doesn’t say, “Cast all your anxiety.” He says, “Humble yourself, casting all your anxiety.” Because humility and anxiety—there’s a very close line between them, I think. When you get in, you know, 34B on the plane and you start to think that you could fly it from that seat—which, of course, is impossible—or you could start to agonize over what is going on… Or you could humble yourself and trust the captain.

Threats, accusations, all the things that come by way of just living the Christian life, living in a foreign world—foreign to us because we are actually strangers.[31] And those to whom Peter writes here were surrounded by the threat of persecution in a way that many of us have never known. They were regarded as an antisocial bunch of people. They were a threat to society. And they were, like people in every generation, working out their salvation in the awareness of the same questions: “Will I be single all my life? Can I live now as a widow? Will I have someone to care for me? Will my employment be sustained? Will I have anything left at the end? What about my future?” All of these things are part and parcel of life.

And the root word, the root verb, actually, underneath “anxiety,” is a word which means “to divide.” “To divide.” Because, you see, anxiety divides our ability to think straightforwardly. Anxiety creates uncertainty, and it creates instability.

And so he says, “Let me tell you what you’re supposed to do. You’re not supposed to deny it. You’re not supposed to ignore it. You’re supposed to chuck it. You’re supposed to cast your anxieties on the Lord in the assurance that he cares for you.”

Think about all the neuroses of our contemporary lives, twenty-first century. Read any newspaper at all. Go any place, at least in the Western world, and you discover that so much of it has to do with the sense of ennui, the sense of lostness, whatever it might be. This isn’t new! You lived through the ’60s. You remember when Paul Simon went off to search for America with his girlfriend Kathy, and they drove the New Jersey bus. And he says,

“Kathy, I’m lost,” I said, though I knew she [is] sleeping.
“I’m empty and aching, and I don’t know why.”
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike;
[And we’ve] all [gone] to look for America.[32]

“Where is the answer? Where is the end of this dream? Where is the end of the rainbow for us?” He’s now in his early eighties; he still doesn’t have an answer. What’s happened to him? Well, he believed the lies: no creator God, no absolute morality, no ultimate truth.

The wonderful truth, of course, of Christianity is that other religions at the time that Peter is writing—those who were looking to those gods, with a small g, would go to all kinds of extremes to try and ensure that the deity could hear them and would answer them. Wasn’t that great when we sang that song—the thing this morning—and we sang, “And you know my name”? “You know my name.” It’s terrific! “You can throw the whole weight of your anxieties upon him, for you are his personal concern.”[33] That’s J. B. Phillips.

I guess I’m far too quick to respond in the storm the way the disciples did. They want to wake up the creator of heaven and earth to inform him that he’s about to be lost at sea. It’s fantastic: “Jesus, sorry to trouble you, but I thought you should know, and I want to know: Do you actually care that we’re all drowning?”[34]

This will be probably my final children’s song for the week:

Said the Robin to the Sparrow:
 “I should really like to know
Why these anxious human beings
 Rush [around] and worry so?”

Said the [Robin] to the [Sparrow],
  “[Oh], I think that it must be
That they have no Heavenly Father
 Such as cares for you and me.”[35]

“Fellows, are you really worried about what you’re wearing? Are you really worried about what you’re going to eat? Have you seen the birds of the air? Have you pondered Solomon’s glory?”[36]

Adversity

Humility, anxiety, adversity. Verse 8—adversity.

“Be sober-minded.” This is a recurring exhortation from Peter.[37] I’m sure every time he wrote it, he said, “Ah, I wish I had been far more sober-minded!”

“Be watchful,” again. “Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion.” This is where the real battle takes place—the Evil One, the accuser of our brothers who accuses us night and day.[38] He’s diabolical. He’s a slanderer. He slanders God to us. He slanders us to God. He slanders us to one another. He’s on the prowl. He’s an intimidator. He likes to roar. Where has he come from? “Where have you come from?”—at the beginning of Job. “Well, from roaming through the earth and going back and forth in it.”[39]

Again, what is our response to be? It is to “resist him.” To “resist him.” He’s looking to devour. He’s a master of disguise. His destiny is not in question, but we’re to resist him. Resist him. D. E. Hoste, who followed Hudson Taylor as the general director of the China Inland Mission—now OMF—on one occasion he said, “I would not appoint a person to the mission field until they had learned to wrestle against the devil. Because if they have not learned to wrestle against the devil, they will wrestle with their fellow missionaries.”[40] And whether it’s in a mission team or a sports team, whenever the team has failed to identify where the real battle is being fought, then the potential for internal disintegration is great.

Security

Well, when you think about that, does this dispirit us? A humility that we long for more of, an anxiety that we long for less of, an adversity that apparently will not quit until we see him. Where does our security lie? Well, it’s right here in the text. This kind of suffering is experienced “throughout the [whole] world.” But “after you[’ve] suffered a little while”—verse 10—“the God of all grace,” the one “who has called you to his eternal glory…”

We’re not removed from the realm and experience of suffering in a fallen world. Faulty thinking and flaky preaching finds a way of helping people to deny or run away from the reality of what we’ve been facing in the course of the five chapters. The answer, of course, is in the providence of God. It’s part of his purpose for us.

Whenever the team has failed to identify where the real battle is being fought, then the potential for internal disintegration is great.

We’ve appreciated these psalms each morning, haven’t we? I can’t remember if we did Psalm 11:

In the Lord I take refuge;
 [Why do] you say to my soul,
 Flee like a bird to [the] mountain[?][41]

“Get out of here! Run for it!’” No. “The God of all grace”—sufficient for every trial, available for every challenge. God’s call to glory comes to us through the Lord Jesus. It’s grace that has brought us safe thus far, and it’s grace that will bring us home.[42]

And four verbs clarify our security: “The God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore…” “Restore.” “Restore.”

Again I say to you: How Peter must have, in his mind, go back to the barbecue—or, as you say, the “barbie”—on the beach, and Jesus serves it to him.[43] He knows that God is the God of restoration. And the verb, you know, is straightforward. It’s the verb that was used for mending nets, resetting dislocated bones, bringing a vessel back into the harbor so that it might be refitted for another voyage.

I wonder: Has this been restoration to some of us? I know it’s been very restorative to me to look and listen and learn and think and be led in prayer. God does this—not only to restore us but to “confirm” us. To “confirm” us.

The word here is “make you strong” in the NIV—to “make you strong,” to support us in such a way as to prevent toppling. Toppling. I was with David Wells a few months ago now, in Boston, and he is tall and South African and now in need of one of those little trolleys. And when he took me into his apartment and he began to make some coffee, he said to me, “I have to be careful now, Alistair, that I don’t topple over.” He scared me half to death. I was glad to get out without it. And I hope he’s still upright.

I mention it, though, because at my most recent visit to my doctor on an annual basis, he gave me the once over, and he said, “You’re pretty good, but just make sure, Alistair, at your age, that you don’t fall. That you don’t fall.” I said, “Excuse me! You’re not talking to my father here. You’re talking to me.” And within short order, wearing my socks to get something out of a refrigerator in the garage, I launched into midair and ended up in the hospital, getting my fingers put back together again—because I didn’t listen to the exhortation.

Strengthened. Confirmed so that we don’t topple, strengthened so that we don’t collapse. Every so often on the Monday, when we have our team meeting with the fellows at church, I say to them, “It’s an Isaiah 40 Monday.” And they know exactly what that means. It means that we’ve come bedraggled out of the week, through the Sunday, got to bed, got up. Now we come to this, and we need to go to Isaiah 40 and make sure: “You are God, you are almighty, you are in control—and if we wait upon you, that you will renew our strength, and we’ll be able to mount up and so on,[44] and we’ll be able to make it to Tuesday.” Because He is the God. He is the God who confirms, strengthens, and establishes you—or makes you “steadfast.”[45] Steadfast.

I’m sorry; here comes another song. I was in the Boys’ Brigade. They used to do parades where you went to the local Presbyterian church. The minister spoke, and then you went out and sort of—as if you were a small army, you would march down the street for what they called a bypass, I think it was. And somebody took the salute. And the Boys’ Brigade song—and I was in the Life Boys, the little ones. I never graduated. I got thrown out before I could make it to that group. But the song is

Will your anchor hold in the storms of life,
When the clouds unfold their [winds] of strife?
When the strong tides lift and the cables strain,
Will your anchor drift or firm remain?

And the refrain—do you know the refrain? So, here we go. We come down the street, and we’re doing the refrain. It goes like this:

We have an anchor that keeps the soul
Steadfast and sure while the billows roll,
Fastened to the Rock which cannot move,
Grounded firm and deep in the Savior’s love.[46]

I was seven. But I am now seventy-two. And it’s true—because of who God is. If we had time, we could just get everybody up here with Mr. Long-Term, and all we would do is confirm the truth of God’s Word. Confirm the truth of God’s Word.

“To him,” he says—this God, “the God of all grace”—“to him be … dominion forever and ever. Amen.” And “by Silvanus, [my] faithful brother,” he says. “He’s played a big part in getting this done and delivering it to you. I could have written at greater length, but my purpose has been straightforward. It’s been twofold, extended to the unworthy and to the humble, providing all that is needed to make sure that we endure suffering, that we enjoy glory, that we understand the true grace of God and stand firm in it.”

Now, I’ll leave you to do the kissing stuff later on. And funnily enough, I had a fellow in my congregation—a bearded chap, a very manly guy with a nice wife and children. I married a couple of his daughters. But I met him maybe twelve Sundays ago. He was all exuberant on this particular Sunday. And he’d gone to Italy for the first time. And he wanted to tell me about Italy, and he had met some Italian Christians. And he got so excited about it that he kissed me on both sides of my face. Now, for a Scot, that is a significant intrusion into my personal space. “I don’t even like you standing that close to me. Don’t ever do that again!” But actually, I wouldn’t mind, I don’t suppose. Because ours is a Christian love that is unimpaired by time or by distance.

And so, to the elect exiles in Australia and beyond: This is the true grace of God. Stand firm in it.

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[1] See Psalm 119:105.

[2] See 2 Peter 1:3.

[3] Towards the Conversion of England: Being a Report of a Commission on Evangelism […] (London: Press and Publication Board of the Church Assembly, 1945), 3.

[4] See Romans 12:1, 8.

[5] See 1 Peter 1:1.

[6] Hebrews 13:17 (ESV).

[7] Hebrews 13:17 (NIV).

[8] Matthew 16:22 (ESV).

[9] See John 18:10.

[10] John 21:16 (ESV).

[11] See 1 Peter 2:25.

[12] Psalm 23:4 (paraphrased).

[13] Psalm 23:5–6 (paraphrased).

[14] John Stott, The Incomparable Christ (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2001), 15. The internal quotation is from the introduction to Desiderius Erasmus’s Greek New Testament (1516).

[15] See John 6:35, 48.

[16] See John 4:10–14.

[17] May Agnew Stephens, “What, Never Thirst Again?” (1903).

[18] 2 Peter 1:5 (NIV).

[19] 2 Peter 1:11 (paraphrased).

[20] 2 Peter 1:11 (ESV).

[21] 2 Peter 1:11 (paraphrased from KJV).

[22] Charles Hutchinson Gabriel, “O That Will Be Glory” (1900).

[23] John Ellerton, “The Day Thou Gavest, Lord, Is Ended” (1870).

[24] Charles Wesley, “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling” (1747).

[25] Peggy Noonan, “A Farewell to Harms,” Wall Street Journal, July 10, 2009, https://www.wsj.com/articles/SB124716984620819351.

[26] See Luke 1:52.

[27] Isaiah 57:15 (NIV).

[28] Matthew 26:33; Mark 14:29 (paraphrased).

[29] John Thornton, quoted in Hugh Evan Hopkins, Charles Simeon of Cambridge (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1977), 43–44.

[30] Rutherford to Cardoness, Elder, Aberdeen, 1637, in Joshua Redivivus; or Three Hundred and Fifty-Two Religions Letters, by the Late Eminently Pious Mr. Samuel Rutherfoord, 11th ed. (Glasgow: William Bell, 1796), 214.

[31] See 1 Peter 2:11.

[32] Paul Simon, “America,” 1968.

[33] 1 Peter 5:7 (Phillips).

[34] Matthew 8:25; Mark 4:38; Luke 8:24 (paraphrased).

[35] Elizabeth Cheney, “Overheard in an Orchard.”

[36] Matthew 6:25–33; Luke 12:22–31 (paraphrased).

[37] See 1 Peter 1:13; 4:7.

[38] See Revelation 12:10.

[39] Job 1:7 (paraphrased).

[40] D. E. Hoste, If I Am to Lead (Singapore: Overseas Missionary Fellowship, 1968), 8. Paraphrased.

[41] Psalm 11:1 (ESV).

[42] John Newton, “Amazing Grace” (1779).

[43] See John 21:1–23.

[44] See Isaiah 40:31.

[45] 1 Peter 5:10 (NIV).

[46] Priscilla Jane Owens, “We Have an Anchor” (1882).