Article II: Expecting to Receive Something

There are things we know about the Christian life that become much harder when we actually have to live them.

It is not difficult to believe that Christians should forgive until someone wounds us deeply.

It is not difficult to say that we should trust God until we have prayed, waited, and watched circumstances move in a direction we do not understand.

We can believe patience is the fruit of the Spirit and still discover how quickly irritation rises when the same person frustrates us again.

We can know what Scripture says about temptation, sincerely determine that we will not yield again, and then find ourselves facing the same desire we thought we had settled.

Sometimes our problem is not that we do not know what God has said.

We know what He has said—and still struggle to live it.

That can be confusing.

If I know I should forgive, why is the anger still there?

If I know God is faithful, why am I still afraid?

If I know I should be patient, why does irritation still rise so quickly?

If I know this temptation has hurt me before, why do I still feel its pull?

Perhaps we respond by trying harder.

We make another promise.

We become more watchful.

We become disappointed with ourselves when we fail again.

And if the struggle continues long enough, we may even become skilled at hiding what is happening inside us.

But perhaps knowing what God requires does not yet answer the whole question of how that life is actually lived.

Acts 3 gives us a remarkably simple picture.

There we meet a man whose inability could not be hidden.

He had been lame from his mother’s womb.

He could not walk.

His inability was visible.

Ours often is not.

Every day this man could watch other people walk.

He could see what walking looked like.

He could understand what other people were doing.

He had probably watched thousands of people do what he could not do.

But watching them did not give strength to his feet.

Understanding walking did not enable him to walk.

Wanting to walk did not enable him to walk.

Determining that he should walk did not enable him to walk.

Something was missing that knowledge could not supply.

And in that respect, his condition may be much closer to ours than it first appears.

We may know what patience looks like.

We may have seen it in other believers.

We may be able to explain it from Scripture.

But when we are provoked, knowing what patience looks like does not automatically produce patience within us.

We may understand forgiveness.

We may know the verses.

We may have even counseled someone else to forgive.

But when the wound becomes ours, we discover that knowing what forgiveness means is not the same as having a forgiving heart.

We may know that God is faithful.

We may have said it many times.

Yet when our own circumstances become uncertain, fear may still rise within us.

The lame man could not solve his problem by learning more about walking.

And perhaps some of us are discovering that we cannot solve every spiritual struggle merely by learning more about how Christians are supposed to live.

There are things God commands that knowledge alone cannot produce within us.

That does not make knowledge unimportant.

We need truth.

We need Scripture.

We need to know what God has said.

But Scripture itself teaches us something more.

The man’s condition gives us a physical picture of a spiritual principle Christ explains plainly in another place:

“As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine…”

—John 15:4

Notice those words:

“cannot bear fruit of itself.”

Christ expects fruit.

But He tells us something essential about its source.

The branch cannot produce it of itself.

A branch may be surrounded by fruit.

It may know what fruit looks like.

But the branch cannot look at the fruit and manufacture what it sees.

It needs life from the Vine.

So Jesus does not tell the branch:

Study the fruit carefully and make yourself produce it.

He says:

“Abide in me, and I in you.”

—John 15:4

The life is in the Vine.

The fruit appears on the branch.

But the branch is not the Vine.

Keep that in mind as we return to the man at the gate.

Expecting to Receive Something

Scripture says:

“a certain man lame from his mother’s womb was carried, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple which is called Beautiful, to ask alms of them that entered into the temple.”

—Acts 3:2

This was his life.

Every day someone carried him.

Every day someone laid him at the gate.

Every day other people walked past a man who could not walk.

And he asked them for alms.

He knew he needed something from others.

And on this particular day, what he asked for was money.

He was not asking to walk.

Scripture does not tell us what he thought about the possibility of ever walking.

It does tell us what he expected from Peter and John that day.

An alms.

Something to help him in the condition he already had.

But what was about to happen would reach a need that silver and gold could never reach.

Peter and John approached.

The man asked them for an alms.

Peter stopped.

“And Peter, fastening his eyes upon him with John, said, Look on us.”

—Acts 3:4

The man looked.

And Scripture tells us exactly what he expected:

“And he gave heed unto them, expecting to receive something of them.”

—Acts 3:5

Expecting to receive something.

Peter had told him to look.

The man looked with expectation.

Then Peter said:

“Silver and gold have I none…”

Peter did not have what the man expected.

But Peter was not empty-handed.

He continued:

“…but such as I have give I thee…”

—Acts 3:6

Such as I have.

Those words raise a question that reaches far beyond the gate called Beautiful:

What did Peter have?

Peter said:

“In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth rise up and walk.”

—Acts 3:6

Then:

“And he took him by the right hand, and lifted him up: and immediately his feet and ankle bones received strength.”

—Acts 3:7

Notice that language.

The man had been:

“expecting to receive something.”

Now:

“his feet and ankle bones received strength.”

He expected something.

He received something.

But what he received was greater than what he had expected.

Then:

“And he leaping up stood, and walked…”

—Acts 3:8

The man really walked.

Peter did not walk for him.

The man stood.

The man walked.

The man leaped.

But he did not manufacture the strength by which he did those things.

He received strength—and then he walked in the strength he had received.

That order matters.

He did not receive better instructions about walking.

He received strength where he had none.

Now the question becomes personal.

We may already know what forgiveness looks like.

We may already know that God tells us to trust Him.

We may already know that we should resist temptation.

We may already know that patience is expected.

Just as the lame man knew what walking looked like.

But what happens when we know what is right and discover that we do not have within ourselves what is needed to live it?

Is there something in Christ for that place?

The lame man received strength.

Then he walked.

Jesus says the branch receives life from the Vine.

Then it bears fruit.

The man walked.

The branch bears fruit.

Neither is passive.

But neither becomes the source.

Perhaps this is where we need to examine something very carefully.

We may sincerely desire to follow Christ and still be trying to follow Him from the wrong source.

Trying to Follow Christ From the Wrong Source

A person can sincerely love Christ and still misunderstand how the Christian life is to be lived.

He reads:

Forgive.

So he tries to make himself forgiving.

He reads:

Love your enemies.

So he tries to force love into a heart that is still hurting.

He reads:

Be holy.

So he becomes more determined to control his conduct.

There may be nothing insincere about any of this.

He wants to obey.

He believes the command.

He wants to please Christ.

His mistake may not be in what he is trying to produce, but in where he expects the life that produces it to come from.

Consider what Christ actually commands.

Jesus said:

“Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you…”

—Matthew 5:44

And in that very context of loving those who oppose us, Jesus says:

“Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.”

—Matthew 5:48

Scripture also says:

“Be ye holy; for I am holy.”

—1 Peter 1:16

These commands do more than tell us what the Christian life should look like.

Sometimes they expose what is actually within us.

Christ says:

Love your enemy.

And we discover resentment.

He says:

Forgive.

And we discover how tightly we are holding the wound.

He says:

Trust Me.

And we discover fear.

The command is good.

The problem is not in the command.

The command has revealed something about us.

There has been only One among us who walked this earth without sin.

Jesus Christ.

So what did Christ intend His followers to do when He returned to the Father?

Did He show them His life, give them His commandments, and then leave them to reproduce what they had seen through their own natural strength?

Did He essentially say:

You have watched Me. You have heard Me. Now try your best to live like Me after I am gone?

No.

Before He left them, Jesus said:

“And I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you for ever.”

—John 14:16

Then:

“I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.”

—John 14:18

Christ knew the people He was leaving.

He knew Peter.

He knew the weakness that would soon appear in Peter.

He knew what His disciples would face when He was no longer visibly walking beside them.

And He did not say:

You have had enough instruction. The rest is up to you.

He promised them the Comforter.

The Christ who commanded them also made provision for them.

Christ did not leave His followers with instructions alone.

He gave them the Spirit.

The Christ they were called to follow had not left them alone to follow Him.

And that remains wonderfully true:

The Christ you are trying to follow has not left you alone to follow Him.

The same Christ who said:

Follow Me

said:

I will not leave you comfortless.

The same Christ who expected fruit said:

Abide in Me.

The Christian life was never intended to be merely an attempt to copy Jesus through natural human strength.

Paul describes something deeper:

“I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me…”

—Galatians 2:20

Paul remained Paul.

Notice:

“nevertheless I live.”

Paul still thought.

Paul still chose.

Paul still obeyed.

Paul still walked.

But Paul no longer understood himself to be the independent source of the spiritual life he was living.

He said:

“Christ liveth in me.”

And Christ has given His Spirit.

That brings us to something we may have read many times without stopping to consider what it actually means.

Whose Fruit Is It?

Paul writes:

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance…”

—Galatians 5:22–23

Notice whose fruit Scripture says it is.

The fruit of the Spirit.

Not the fruit of determination.

Not the fruit of religious education.

Not the fruit of natural ability.

That does not mean determination, learning, discipline, or obedience are unimportant.

They have their place.

But they are not the source.

We say:

I need more love.

Scripture calls love fruit of the Spirit.

We say:

I need more patience.

Scripture calls longsuffering fruit of the Spirit.

We say:

I need more self-control.

Scripture calls temperance fruit of the Spirit.

Perhaps the question is deeper than:

How can I make myself more patient?

The question becomes:

How does the Spirit produce His fruit in me?

The fruit of the Spirit is not a separate work that the Christian is expected to produce after receiving the Spirit.

The fruit is evidence of the Spirit working within the Christian.

The Spirit does not merely assist us while we remain the source.

The fruit is His.

And His work does not lead us away from Christ.

Jesus said of the Spirit:

“He shall glorify me: for he shall receive of mine, and shall shew it unto you.”

—John 16:14

The Spirit glorifies Christ.

He ministers what belongs to Christ.

So we have not left Christ when we begin speaking about the Spirit.

We are seeing part of the provision Christ Himself promised.

This is why God’s purpose is described as our being:

“conformed to the image of his Son.”

—Romans 8:29

We do not become Christ Himself.

But His character increasingly becomes visible in His people.

His love confronts our selfishness.

His meekness confronts our pride.

His longsuffering confronts our impatience.

His holiness confronts our sin.

The Spirit works within.

And His fruit begins to appear.

The branch really bears the fruit.

But the branch can never say:

I produced this life from myself.

The problem is not that the branch bears fruit.

The problem begins when the branch tries to become the source of the fruit it bears.

Perhaps that is why some sincere believers become exhausted.

They love Christ.

They want to obey Him.

But without realizing it, they may be asking their natural life to produce what Scripture calls the fruit of the Spirit.

If the Spirit produces the fruit, however, another question immediately follows:

Then what am I supposed to do?

What Does It Mean to Walk in the Spirit?

Paul says:

“Walk in the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh.”

—Galatians 5:16

The command itself contains both sides of what we have been seeing.

Walk.

The believer acts.

In the Spirit.

The believer does not act as though he were the Source.

This is not passivity.

And it is not independence.

It is dependent activity.

But what does that look like when we actually have to make a choice?

Go back to Eden.

God had spoken.

Then the serpent contradicted what God had said:

“Ye shall not surely die.”

—Genesis 3:4

Two contrary claims now stood before Eve.

The issue became:

Which word will be believed?

And then:

Which word will be obeyed?

Something similar happens throughout our lives.

Fear speaks.

Anger speaks.

Desire speaks.

Human reasoning speaks.

Temptation speaks.

And God has spoken.

The question is not whether every thought has a supernatural speaker behind it.

The question is simpler:

What is asking to govern me, and does it agree with what God has said?

Paul writes:

“Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are to whom ye obey…”

—Romans 6:16

Notice:

yield

and:

obey.

Being governed by the Spirit does not mean our will disappears.

It means we yield ourselves to God rather than allowing something contrary to Him to govern what we believe and obey.

And God has not left us guessing about what He has said.

Jesus said:

“Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.”

—Matthew 4:4

Notice:

“Man shall not live…”

This is about life.

Jesus spoke those words while being tempted.

Satan spoke.

Jesus answered:

“It is written.”

He did not pretend hunger was unreal.

He did not pretend temptation had not occurred.

But He would not allow the tempter’s suggestion to become the word governing His obedience.

He lived by what God had said.

And so must we.

But even here we must be careful.

Walking in the Spirit does not simply mean that we hear two competing thoughts, choose the biblical one, and then carry it out through our own natural strength.

That would return us to the very problem we have been discussing.

We would still be asking the natural man to produce spiritual life—only now with better information.

God has given us more than information.

He has given us His Spirit.

And even faith is not presented merely as something we squeeze out of ourselves.

Scripture says:

“So then faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.”

—Romans 10:17

When fear becomes loud, the answer is not merely:

Generate more faith.

Hear again what God has said.

Look again at the One who has spoken.

The Word tells us what is true.

Faith believes God.

The Spirit works within us.

We yield ourselves to God.

And we obey.

The obedience is real.

Our will is involved.

Our choices matter.

But we are no longer treating our natural strength as the source.

This is dependent obedience.

What Happens When the Flesh Says Something Different?

Suppose someone has wounded us deeply.

We know Scripture says to forgive.

But when we think about what happened, anger rises again.

What do we do?

We do not pretend the anger is absent.

We do not call bitterness love.

And we do not have to wait until every feeling changes before we obey God.

We begin with the truth.

Lord, I am angry.

Then we hear what God has said.

Forgive.

But we do not merely repeat the command while trying to force forgiveness into ourselves.

We bring both realities before Christ:

Here is what Your Word says.

And here is what is actually in me.

The command has exposed our need.

And the need does not send us away from Christ.

It brings us to Him.

Scripture says of Christ:

“For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin.”

—Hebrews 4:15

Then:

“Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.”

—Hebrews 4:16

Notice what Scripture says to the person in need.

Come.

And what is there?

Mercy.

Grace.

Help.

When?

“In time of need.”

Dependence is not merely discovering:

I cannot.

It is discovering:

I cannot—but I have somewhere to go.

So perhaps our prayer becomes:

Lord, You see what happened. You see the anger in me. I know what Your Word says, and I know what my feelings are telling me. I cannot manufacture Your love from my resentment. I need Your help here. By Your Spirit, help me obey what You have said.

Then we obey.

We refuse revenge.

We refuse to feed bitterness.

We pray for the person.

We refuse to keep rehearsing the injury merely to keep the anger alive.

Our emotions may not change instantly.

But we can yield ourselves to God even while another feeling remains present.

That distinction is important.

A temptation entering the mind is not the same as yielding ourselves to that temptation.

Fear rising within us is not the same as choosing to obey fear.

Anger appearing after we have been wounded is not the same as giving anger authority over what we do next.

The presence of another voice does not require our obedience to it.

Paul says:

“if ye through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live.”

—Romans 8:13

Notice both sides.

“Ye…do mortify.”

The believer acts.

But:

“through the Spirit.”

The believer does not act independently.

So when the flesh says:

Take revenge,

God says:

Forgive.

When pride says:

Do not humble yourself,

God says:

Humble yourself.

When desire says:

Take what you want,

God says:

Flee.

When fear says:

Trust only what you can see,

God calls us to trust Him.

The question becomes:

Whose word will I believe, and to whom will I yield myself to obey?

And when the struggle returns?

We come again.

Not because yesterday’s grace was unreal.

But because the branch needs the Vine today.

Receiving is beginning to become less mysterious.

Hear.

Believe.

Come.

Receive help.

Yield.

Obey.

And return again when the need arises.

Not as a mechanical formula.

But as the life of someone who has learned:

I am not the Source.

Rest Does Not Mean Doing Nothing

There is something important at the beginning of Scripture.

God worked before man did.

God created.

God prepared.

God provided.

Then man entered what God had already made.

Man began with God’s provision, not his own.

That helps us understand something about spiritual rest, but we must distinguish two things carefully.

There is a work Christ has accomplished that we cannot add to.

And there is a work God is presently carrying on within His people.

Christ’s saving work does not wait for us to complete it.

But the person who belongs to Christ is still growing, obeying, learning, being corrected, and being transformed.

So rest does not mean:

There is nothing for the Christian to do.

It means:

The Christian begins from what God has provided rather than attempting to become the provider.

Paul writes:

“work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.”

—Philippians 2:12

There is our activity.

Work out.

Then:

“For it is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure.”

—Philippians 2:13

There is God’s activity.

God works in.

We work out.

God’s working does not eliminate our obedience.

It makes dependent obedience possible.

The Christian does not say:

God is working, therefore I do nothing.

Nor:

God has given me instructions, therefore everything now depends upon me.

He learns to work from God’s provision.

Rest is not the absence of activity. Rest is the end of trying to become the source.

Acts 3 gives us the picture again.

The man’s feet received strength.

Then he stood.

Walked.

Leaped.

Receiving strength did not make him passive.

The strength did not remove his walking. The strength made his walking possible.

Strength received.

Then walking.

Life from the Vine.

Then fruit.

God works in.

We work out.

This is rest without passivity.

Look on Us

If Christ is sufficient, what place is there for another believer?

Acts 3 answers that too.

Peter said:

“Look on us.”

—Acts 3:4

He did not turn away from the man’s need.

He spoke.

He stopped.

He gave.

He reached down.

He took the man’s hand.

He lifted him.

Those actions mattered.

There are times when we need another person.

There are passages we do not understand.

There are moments when fear has become so loud that we need someone else to remind us what God has said.

There are struggles we have hidden so long that we need someone to help us bring them into the light.

There are times when we need another believer to pray with us, correct us, encourage us, or remain beside us while we learn what trusting God looks like in the situation we are actually facing.

Peter’s hand was real.

And God used it.

Christ’s sufficiency does not make His people unnecessary.

Sometimes His people are part of the help He provides.

But after the man was healed, the people gathered around Peter and John in amazement.

Peter said:

“why look ye so earnestly on us, as though by our own power or holiness we had made this man to walk?”

—Acts 3:12

Earlier:

“Look on us.”

Now:

“Why look ye so earnestly on us?”

There is no contradiction.

Peter was willing to be looked to as a servant.

He refused to be mistaken for the Source.

His hand mattered.

His words mattered.

His presence mattered.

But:

The power did not originate in Peter.

Not by his own power.

Not by his own holiness.

Long before Peter stood there, God had said:

“Not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit, saith the LORD of hosts.”

—Zechariah 4:6

The servant may speak.

The hand may reach down.

The believer may obey.

The Church may minister.

But the life and the power come from God.

God works through people without making people the Source.

And that raises an extraordinary question about Peter’s words:

“Such as I have give I thee.”

How could Peter have something that did not originate in Peter?

Because what Peter possessed had been received.

The Giver Is Still a Disciple

Peter had received much from Christ.

He had heard Him.

Watched Him.

Been taught by Him.

Corrected by Him.

He had failed Him.

Seen Him crucified.

Seen Him alive again.

And Peter had received the Holy Ghost.

But receiving from Christ did not mean Peter had finished receiving from Christ.

The giver was still a disciple.

There were two dependent men at the gate.

One man’s dependence was obvious.

He could not walk.

Peter could walk.

Speak.

Teach.

Help.

God was using him.

The lame man needed strength to walk.

Peter needed Christ in order to have anything worth giving.

One man’s dependence was visible in his weakness.

Peter’s was easier to overlook because of his usefulness.

But Peter’s usefulness did not cancel Peter’s dependence.

A vessel does not become the spring simply because water has passed through it many times.

And the branch may mature, but it never becomes the Vine.

The giver remains a receiver.

Dependence Does Not Begin Where Ability Ends

This becomes especially important as we grow.

At first, dependence may be obvious.

We encounter Scripture we do not understand, so we search.

We face situations we have never faced, so we pray.

We do not know what to say, so we ask God for help.

Then we learn.

Years pass.

The passage that once puzzled us becomes familiar.

The situation that once frightened us is something we have faced before.

The question that once sent us searching can now be answered almost immediately.

That is growth.

Growth is good.

Capability is not the enemy.

But something can happen quietly within it.

We can begin seeking Christ mainly when we reach the end of what we know how to do.

As long as we have an answer, we proceed.

When we run out of answers, we pray.

When our ability fails, we become consciously dependent again.

But dependence does not begin where our ability ends.

The branch does not receive from the Vine only when something difficult happens.

It lives by the Vine continuously.

The danger is not capability.

The danger comes when capability begins to feel like sufficiency.

When we stop listening because we already know.

When we stop seeking because we already have an answer.

When we stop receiving because experience tells us what to do.

Christ did not say:

Without Me you can do nothing difficult.

He said:

“without me ye can do nothing.”

—John 15:5

The mature branch still needs the Vine.

Its fruitfulness does not demonstrate independence from the Vine.

Its fruitfulness reveals the life it is receiving from the Vine.

Maturity is not independence from Christ.

It should deepen our dependence upon Him.

And if the person giving help remains dependent upon Christ, then the way we help another person should reflect that.

Acts 8 shows us how.

Do You Understand What You Are Reading?

The Ethiopian eunuch had gone to Jerusalem to worship.

Now he was returning home, sitting in his chariot and reading Isaiah.

He was not indifferent to God.

He had gone to worship.

He had Scripture open before him.

Yet there was something he did not understand.

God saw him.

And God sent Philip.

Philip asked:

“Understandest thou what thou readest?”

—Acts 8:30

The eunuch answered:

“How can I, except some man should guide me?”

—Acts 8:31

There is no shame in that answer.

I do not understand. I need help.

The man needed guidance.

And God sent a man.

But watch what the man God sent actually did.

The eunuch was reading from Isaiah:

“He was led as a sheep to the slaughter…”

—Acts 8:32

The passage comes from the portion of Isaiah in which we read:

“But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.”

—Isaiah 53:5

The eunuch asked whom the prophet was speaking about.

Then:

“Philip opened his mouth, and began at the same scripture, and preached unto him Jesus.”

—Acts 8:35

Notice:

“at the same scripture.”

Philip did not take Scripture away from him.

He opened it.

But Philip did not leave the man merely knowing more about Isaiah.

He preached Jesus.

That matters.

We do not have to choose between teaching Scripture and showing people Christ.

Scripture rightly opened brings Christ into view.

Biblical knowledge must never become an end that leaves Christ at a distance.

Philip had before him Scripture showing what Christ had done.

Wounded for our transgressions.

Bruised for our iniquities.

The chastisement of our peace upon Him.

With His stripes we are healed.

Philip did not merely tell the man:

You need Christ.

Through the Scripture already before him, he showed him Jesus.

And something happened to the man’s question.

When the Word Begins to Address Us

At first the eunuch wanted to know:

Who is the prophet speaking about?

But after Philip preached Jesus, they came to water.

The eunuch said:

“See, here is water; what doth hinder me to be baptized?”

—Acts 8:36

He began with:

Who is this about?

Now:

What about me?

The Word was no longer merely something he wanted explained.

It had reached him.

Scripture had moved from information toward response.

Something similar happens to us.

We read:

Love your enemies.

Then someone wounds us.

We read:

Forgive.

Then we are the one who has been hurt.

We read:

“Trust in the LORD with all thine heart…”

—Proverbs 3:5

Then our own understanding tells us everything is going wrong.

Now Scripture has moved from the page into the life we are actually living.

The question becomes more than:

Do I understand what God has said?

It becomes:

Will I live by what God has said?

And the command does not send us away from Christ to perform it alone.

It brings us to Christ because in the very act of obedience we discover our need of Him.

I cannot love this person as I should.

Lord, I need You here.

I am afraid.

Lord, help me hear what You have said above what fear is telling me.

This desire is pulling strongly.

Lord, by Your Spirit, help me yield to You rather than to it.

And Christ says:

“Abide in me.”

We come to the throne of grace.

We ask for help in our time of need.

Then we obey.

That is not an escape from obedience.

It is the place from which dependent obedience begins.

Philip could open Scripture.

But Philip could not respond for the eunuch.

Someone can tell us God is faithful.

Eventually we must trust Him.

Someone can teach us to pray.

Eventually we must pray.

Someone can show us Christ.

Eventually the question becomes personal:

What will I do with the Christ I have been shown?

Learning Christ for Ourselves

Learning Christ for ourselves does not mean learning Christ by ourselves.

The eunuch needed Philip.

The lame man needed Peter.

God used both men.

There will be moments when we need someone beside us.

When our thinking becomes confused, another believer may help us see what Scripture actually says.

When shame tells us to hide, someone may help us bring the struggle into the light.

When grief overwhelms us, someone may sit beside us.

There are times when people need someone to stand beside them while they are learning to stand.

Peter:

“took him by the right hand, and lifted him up.”

—Acts 3:7

But the man did not spend the rest of his life being carried by Peter.

Philip entered the eunuch’s chariot.

But Philip did not remain there forever.

Eventually:

“the Spirit of the Lord caught away Philip…”

and the eunuch:

“went on his way rejoicing.”

—Acts 8:39

Philip disappeared from the scene.

But the joy remained.

Because Philip had not brought the eunuch to Philip.

He had preached Jesus.

That gives us a searching measure of our ministry to one another.

After we have prayed with someone, taught him, encouraged him, and walked beside him—

is he increasingly learning to know Christ for himself?

Can he seek Christ in Scripture?

Does he know where to go when he discovers something within himself that he cannot change by his own strength?

Can he trust Christ when the person who first taught him is no longer present?

We need one another.

Scripture makes that clear.

But our help should never make us the person’s destination.

What Do We Have to Give?

Now Peter’s words return:

“Such as I have give I thee.”

What do we have?

Knowledge?

Doctrine?

Experience?

Answers?

All may be useful.

But there is a deeper question:

Are we still receiving from the Christ of whom we speak?

When we tell someone to trust Christ, are we still learning to trust Him?

When we tell someone to live by God’s Word, are we still hearing His Word?

When we teach the fruit of the Spirit, are we still abiding in the Vine?

When we tell someone to come to Christ in weakness, where do we go with our own weakness?

Truth that was once received can slowly become truth we merely know how to repeat.

What we give must continue to come from somewhere.

We do not need to be perfect before helping someone.

Peter was not.

But we should know where we are pointing him because we still go there ourselves.

Here is the Christ I need too.

That is very different from:

Come depend upon me.

What Cannot Be Inherited

Much of what we know about God was learned by people before us.

Someone suffered and learned:

God is faithful.

Then taught us.

Someone spent years searching Scripture, praying, obeying, being corrected, and learning Christ.

Then gave us what he learned.

That is a gift.

But there is something he cannot give us:

his relationship with Christ.

A father can teach his son Scripture.

He cannot trust God for him.

A teacher can give us a conclusion in minutes that took years to learn.

But:

What was experience to one generation can become information to the next.

We can inherit the conclusion without inheriting the dependence in which it was learned.

So give the next generation Scripture.

Give them sound doctrine.

Give them testimony.

But:

show them where we still go.

Show them not only what we learned from Christ.

Show them where we are still receiving from Him.

And now we can return one final time to the man at the gate.

Expecting to Receive Something

There he is.

Someone carried him there.

He asks for an alms.

Peter says:

“Look on us.”

And the man looks:

“expecting to receive something.”

His expectation was real.

But the provision was greater than his expectation.

He expected an alms.

He received strength.

Perhaps we come to Christ in much the same way.

Lord, help me control my anger.

Help me become more patient.

Help me stop being afraid.

Help me resist this temptation.

Those are real needs.

But perhaps Christ is showing us something deeper than a solution to each isolated problem.

He is showing us the Source of the Christian life itself.

We ask for patience.

Scripture points us to the fruit of the Spirit.

We ask for strength.

Christ points us to the Vine.

We struggle in temptation.

Scripture says:

Walk in the Spirit.

We discover our weakness.

Scripture says:

Come boldly unto the throne of grace and find grace to help in time of need.

We wonder whether Christ has left us to do all of this ourselves.

He says:

“I will not leave you comfortless.”

And:

“Abide in me.”

Again and again Scripture brings us back to the same Source.

Christ.

Now think about the person who comes expecting to receive something.

What can we give him?

Peter gave his hand.

Philip opened the Word.

Both helped.

But Peter’s hand was not the Source.

And Philip was not the Christ he preached.

The Church can be Peter’s hand.

It cannot be the Vine.

The Church can be Philip in the chariot.

It cannot be the Christ Philip preached.

Acts tells us what happened to the man Peter helped:

“And he leaping up stood, and walked, and entered with them into the temple, walking, and leaping, and praising God.”

—Acts 3:8

Notice:

“entered with them.”

At the beginning he was carried.

Then Peter said:

Look on us.

Peter gave him his hand.

But Peter did not become his destination.

Now the man was walking beside Peter.

And he was praising God.

The Church does not stand between the person and Christ. It stands with the person before Christ.

We are not people who have ceased needing Christ telling needy people how to live.

We are dependent people helping other dependent people come to know the same Christ upon whom we depend.

So when someone comes expecting to receive something, give him what you have received.

Open the Word.

Show him Jesus.

Give him your hand when he needs it.

Walk with him.

But never become his destination.

We need Christ too.

And so our invitation is not merely:

Come to church.

It is something far greater:

Come know Him with us.