God of Our Days
"Come, let us return to the LORD; for he has torn us, that he may heal us; he has struck us down, and he will bind us up. After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will raise us up, that we may live before him. Let us know; let us press on to know the LORD; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth." (Hosea 6:1-3 NIV)
For me, this lovely passage from Hosea falls into the category, "Who knew this was in the Bible?" Maybe I'm the only one. Maybe everyone else has this highlighted in their Bibles. But when I came across it inadvertently the other day, I felt I was seeing something brand-new. I was immediately transported to another raising up on the third day
"He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: 'The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, be crucified and on the third day be raised again' " (Luke 24:6,7).
Yahweh is God of planning and purpose, and it always thrills me to see these traits reflected in His Word (as of course they would be). He is beyond time, so He can work within whatever earthly frame He wants, but Scripture is filled with accounts of restoration and elevation in three-day increments.
"Within three days Pharaoh will lift up your head and restore you to your position, and you will put Pharaoh’s cup in his hand, just as you used to do when you were his cupbearer" (Genesis 40:13).
“Go through the camp and tell the people, 'Get your provisions ready. Three days from now you will cross the Jordan here to go in and take possession of the land the LORD your God is giving you for your own' " (Joshua 1:11).
"So we arrived in Jerusalem, where we rested three days" (Ezra 8:32).
We don't want to get too locked into literal days here, naturally: "But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day" (2 Peter 3:8).
But as we're living our days in anticipation of the Great Day, we can find encouragement in God's process as exemplified by the events of three days that changed everything: Good Friday, Holy (or Silent) Saturday, and Resurrection Sunday.
On the first day, there was a tearing: Jesus' body was literally torn in two, and at the same moment, the veil of the temple—symbolizing the separation between us and God—was also torn. On our own tearing days, God may tear us so that what is separating us from Him can be torn, too.
On the second day, there was a testing: the test of the faith of Jesus' friends in what must have seemed like deafening silence from God, who had been speaking so loudly through His Son up to that point. On our testing days, when God seems silent, will we hold onto hope? Will we worship in the wait?
And on the third day, there was a triumph. The triumph of life over death. Of good over evil. Of righteousness over sin. Of love over all. On our days of triumph, will we glean these lasting prizes that are greater than any earthly gain? Will we allow the process of all three days—tearing, testing, and triumph—to change us forever?
Oh friends, if you're on a tearing day, look for what God is revealing to you of Himself on the other side of what's being torn. If you're on a testing day, hold onto hope while you're on hold. And if you're on a triumph day, give thanks and celebrate: you are not who you were.
Raise us up, O God of Our Days, that we might live before You.
"So we arrived in Jerusalem, where we rested three days" (Ezra 8:32).
We don't want to get too locked into literal days here, naturally: "But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day" (2 Peter 3:8).
But as we're living our days in anticipation of the Great Day, we can find encouragement in God's process as exemplified by the events of three days that changed everything: Good Friday, Holy (or Silent) Saturday, and Resurrection Sunday.
On the first day, there was a tearing: Jesus' body was literally torn in two, and at the same moment, the veil of the temple—symbolizing the separation between us and God—was also torn. On our own tearing days, God may tear us so that what is separating us from Him can be torn, too.
On the second day, there was a testing: the test of the faith of Jesus' friends in what must have seemed like deafening silence from God, who had been speaking so loudly through His Son up to that point. On our testing days, when God seems silent, will we hold onto hope? Will we worship in the wait?
And on the third day, there was a triumph. The triumph of life over death. Of good over evil. Of righteousness over sin. Of love over all. On our days of triumph, will we glean these lasting prizes that are greater than any earthly gain? Will we allow the process of all three days—tearing, testing, and triumph—to change us forever?
Oh friends, if you're on a tearing day, look for what God is revealing to you of Himself on the other side of what's being torn. If you're on a testing day, hold onto hope while you're on hold. And if you're on a triumph day, give thanks and celebrate: you are not who you were.
Raise us up, O God of Our Days, that we might live before You.
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I'd love to hear from you! Feel free to tell me what you really think. Years ago, I explained to my then-two-year-old that my appointment with a counselor was "sort of like going to a doctor who will help me be a better mommy." Without blinking, she replied, "You'd better go every day." All of which is just to say I've spent some time in the school of brutal honesty!