Sometimes I feel that, at my age, I should not struggle so much in my spiritual walk. I try really hard, but I know I should be doing better.

Someone is no doubt thinking, “Man, you don’t get it. You should know better . . .” I get it. I do know better. But sometimes I think those thoughts anyway. That’s why I can never read words like these often enough:

Ephesians 6

10 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might. 11 Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil. 12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. 13 Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. 14 Stand firm therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, 15 and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace; 16 in addition to all, taking up the shield of faith with which you will be able to extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.
   18 With all prayer and petition pray at all times in the Spirit . . .

Notice, it’s “the strength of his might.” It’s “the armor of God.” Meditate on that as you begin another week.

These things I have written to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, so that you may know that you have eternal life. (1 John 5:13)

Think of it: an entire letter written for the single purpose of enabling its recipients to know that they have eternal life. Five chapters written so that we may know that our sins are forgiven, that we are justified before God, and our salvation is secure. One hundred and five verses written so that we may know. Other than salvation itself, can there be a greater gift?

Beloved, now we are children of God, and it has not appeared as yet what we will be. We know that when He appears, we will be like Him, because we will see Him just as He is. And everyone who has this hope fixed on Him purifies himself, just as He is pure. (1 John 3:2–3)

Do you want to be Christ-like? Then look at him, and look at him some more. Focus on him; fill your mind with him. Meditate on his Word. Think of all he is, and all you are promised through him. Because it is by seeing him that we become like him.

I want to know God. I want to know his nature and his thoughts. It is this desire that drives me to read his Word and books about him by writers who know his Word far better than I. What could possibly be more wonderful, as wonderful, or even remotely wonderful compared to the knowledge of the eternal, infinite, omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent God who is the source of all things, the epitome of holiness, righteousness, and justice? The answer is obvious: nothing compares. The greatest creations of the human imagination fade into utter insignificance in the glorious light of the ineffable perfections of almighty God.

Why is it, then, that reading God’s Word becomes, at times, a chore to be done rather than a pleasure to be savored? I’m sure I can’t answer that question exhaustively, but I think I know at least part of the answer, and probably the greatest, most insidious part.

Many would put the blame on Satan. Of course, the prince of darkness does not want me exposed to the light. Of course he wants to deceive me, and will do all he can to keep me from God and his Word. But I cannot shift the blame, not even to the father of lies. If God had destroyed Satan immediately after he deceived Adam, my worst enemy would still be right here with me. That enemy is me.

I want to know God, I say again. I want to know him in all his glory. Yet there is a part of me that most definitely does not want to know him: my flesh. My flesh assiduously avoids all knowledge of God. Why? Because knowledge makes demands. My flesh does not like demands. Oh, it likes to make demands. It makes demands on people, on things, on circumstances, and even on God, but it hates demands made on me.

What demands does the knowledge of God make? Knowledge of his holiness demands that I be holy. Knowledge of his sovereign lordship, of his ownership of all creation, including me, demands that I submit to his commands. Knowledge of his love demands that I love him and all that he loves.

The knowledge of God does more than make demands. Just as a light shining into a dark corner reveals the dirt left unseen in the darkness, the light of God’s holiness exposes the filth in my heart. It discloses my unholiness, my intractability, my unloving selfishness. The knowledge of God leads to knowledge of self — knowledge I would rather ignore.

So now, in addition to knowledge of God, I have knowledge of self. This is not a pleasant combination. Knowledge of God brings demands. Knowledge of self, of who I really am, crushes any hope that I can meet those demands. This brings with it yet another demand — that I be humble.

But I am not humble. I am proud and independent. If I was humble, the logical thing to do at this point would be to acknowledge my helplessness, rest on God’s promises, and pray for grace. But very often, my reaction is anything but humble. Rather than praying, I resolve to do better. I will try harder. Can you believe it? I retreat to my own self-sufficiency! The very self-sufficiency that has already been destroyed!

And that is exactly where I would be left, if not for the gracious, electing work of God; if not for the sacrificial redeeming work of Christ; if not for the guidance of the Holy Spirit. God takes a man who is unholy, unrighteous, unloving, whose knowledge of myself causes me to cringe from the knowledge of God, and gently, lovingly, draws me back into a place where I can say, with all my heart, I want to know God.

O God, I thirst for you; I long to be in your presence.
Surely, you have not forgotten me!

Lift up my downcast soul; still the turmoil within me.
Let the roar of your waterfalls thunder in my ears;
   and let me be immersed in you
      as your waves break over me.

I praise you for your steadfast love,
   and the song you have given me—
      a prayer to you, the God of my life.

Praise you, O Lord,
   my rock,
   my salvation,
   my God.

Blessèd assurance, Jesus is mine!
O what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

I was sampling some music by a country musician I won’t name here, and came across a couple of religious albums he has produced. I’m always a bit cynical of these things, as I see celebrities sing hymns one minute and songs about adultery and drunkenness the next. But that’s a tangent for another day. As I was listening, I heard the song Blessed Assurance. It’s not a great song, but it’s not horrible, either.

The first verse, quoted above, is probably the best part of the song. It almost captures the essence of our salvation in beautiful language. Purchased of God, born of his Spirit, washed in his blood, we are heirs of salvation, and our blessed assurance of that salvation certainly is a foretaste of the divine glory of Heaven.

Yet I say it “almost captures the essence of our salvation” because, while Jesus is mine, that is not the fact upon which my assurance rests. My assurance of salvation is in the knowledge that I am his. There is nothing I have that I cannot lose, and that would include my salvation if it depended on me. But Jesus loses no one, and nothing can be taken from him. I was given to him by the Father, and I am assured that I will be kept and raised up on the last day. My salvation is guaranteed, not because he is mine, but because I am his.

Blessed assurance, I belong to Christ!

emptation called—she called my name;
’Twas nothing new, but just the same
Enticing call with promise sweet,
“Come taste my wine,” she did entreat.

I sought the source of that sweet voice—
It seemed as though I had no choice.
Although I searched, I found her not,
But found the pleasure she had brought.

I smelled the scent of her perfume
That lingered there inside my room.
I drank the wine that she had mixed,
Though it was sweet, I was perplexed.

I sought companionship to share
Forbidden pleasure, fine and fair,
But promised company had flown
And left me guilty, and alone.

The wine that I had drunk in haste
Soon left a bitter aftertaste;
Perfume so sweet, the scent of rose,
Began a-burning in my nose.

Who was this temptress who beguiled,
Who my conscience had defiled?
Who had done this thing to me?
I would search, and find, and see!

I looked around out in the dark—
Perhaps a devil there did lurk!
I searched the streets all through the town;
My nemesis could not be found.

And then I heard her voice again:
“Come home, come home, you’ll find me then.
I’ve been here waiting. Don’t delay!
Come to my side, and with me stay.”

I came back home, there to seek
The evil one who made me weak.
There! ’twas the voice! It seemed to call
Out from the glass upon the wall.

How can this be? I thought with fear,
Who can it be? There’s no one here!
I stilled my heart, prepared to see,
Looked in the glass—saw only me.

But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. —James 1:14

God my Father,
I confess that I have not obeyed you as I ought;
I have not obeyed you because
I have not loved your Word as I ought;
I have not loved your Word because
I have not loved you as I ought.

I want to love you,
but I am too easily lost in the world that is myself—
I have believed that I possess righteousness
because I am righteous;
I have believed that I possess wisdom
because I am wise;
I have become great in my own eyes.

O, shine the light of your truth into my black heart!
Let me never forget
that my righteousness is as filthy rags,
that it is you who gives faith,
that it is you who grants repentance.

Stir the embers of my affections,
so they may not grow cold and die.
Fuel them to a roaring flame,
until the heat is felt by those around me.
Let me know the sweetness of fellowship with you.
Let me know you, that I may love you.