When I can’t prove a thing
Who can utter the mighty doings of the Lord,
Or declare all his praise? Psalm 106:2
Read John 8:12—20
Sometimes this faith I have in Christ all adds up gloriously. It rings all the bells. Not only does Jesus prove himself true, but all life makes sense around him. God is chiming into life as I know it. What I know of Jesus is completely in sync with who the Father is. God the Father, Jesus, the Spirit, the nature of reality as I know it, and my place in it: it all makes perfect sense. Moreover, take Jesus out of the picture, and nothing makes sense. There is a void of meaning. Then I have some conversation with an unbeliever, and I realise there’s hardly a point of contact. My sure reality seems nonsense to my friend. There’s no way I can make it sound otherwise. It’s about as frustrating as Jesus must have found it, talking to these Jews, his very own people! In a real sense, a very real sense, the language of Jesus is a different language.
Lord Jesus Christ, you have spoken the very reality of God into my life, and I thank you. I thank you that I hear your word as the truth and the life, as the very word of God to me and as my way to God in return. I thank you, too, this night, especially because you yourself know what it is to speak into dead ears. You know the blank look. In fact, the hostile look. You, the truth, know what it is to be called a lie. So all I can pray is that in my conversations I will trust you to speak for yourself. May I speak true to you. May I be a ready witness. May others have the opportunity to consider who you are without my feeble distortions.