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Gods Greatest Gifts - His Word, His Name, His Blood Gods Greatest Gifts - His Word, His Name, His Blood

Gods Greatest Gifts - His Word, His Name, His Blood Order Printed Copy

  • Author: Joyce Meyer
  • Size: 1.48MB | 165 pages
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About the Book


In "God's Greatest Gifts," Joyce Meyer explores the profound impact of God's Word, His Name, and His Blood on the lives of believers. She emphasizes the power and importance of these gifts in experiencing spiritual transformation, healing, and victory in everyday life. Meyer's insights offer practical guidance for deepening one's faith and understanding of God's love and grace.

J.C. Ryle

J.C. Ryle ​John Charles Ryle (May 10, 1816 - June 10, 1900) was an evangelical Anglican clergyman and first Bishop of Liverpool. He was renowned for his powerful preaching and extensive tracts. Biography Ryle was born on May 10th, 1816 at Park House, Macclesfield, the eldest son of John Ryle MP and Susannah Ryle. His family had made their money in the silk mills of the Industrial Revolution, and were prominent members of Cheshire society. Accordingly, Ryle was educated at Eton College and then Christ Church, Oxford, where he took a congratulatory First in Greats, and a Blue in cricket. Conversion and ordination Ryle's family were nominal Anglicans, and until his time as an undergraduate Ryle had a similar attitude to Christianity. However, as he was due to sit his final examinations, he became seriously ill with a chest infection, and was confined to his bed. During this time he began to pray and seriously read the Scriptures. However his conversion occurred when he attended an unknown church, and arriving late, he heard the reading Ephesians 2:8-9. The force of these words hit his heart, and from that point on he was assured of his salvation. After leaving Oxford, he returned to Macclesfield to assist his father in business and with the assumption that he would inherit the estate. However in June 1841 Ryle Senior was bankrupted, and the family was left ruined, and forced to leave Macclesfield. With his future now in tatters, Ryle was forced to look for a profession to sustain himself, and as a last resort, he offered himself for ministry in the Church of England. He was duly accepted and ordained in December 1841 by Bishop C.R. Summner of Winchester. Parish ministry Ryle's first charge was as curate of the hamlet of Exbury in Hampshire, an area of a rough but sparse agricultural population, and riddled with disease. After a difficult two years, he became unwell, and was forced to spend several months recuperating. In November 1843 he moved to become the rector of St Thomas', Winchester, where he made a reputation for himself as an energetic and thorough pastor. Over a period of six months the congregation grew to well over six hundred communicants, and the church was forced to consider alternative accommodation. However Ryle was offered the living of Helmingham, Suffolk, and it was to here that he moved in 1844, where he stayed until 1861. With a congregation of some two hundred, it was here that Ryle began to read widely amongst the Reformed theologians, and produce the writings that would make him famous. It was at Helmingham that he began his series of "Expository Thoughts on the Gospels", and started his tract-writing. Though his time at Helmingham was extremely fruitful, Ryle quarreled with the squire John Tollemache, and by 1861 he felt the need to move on. His final parish incumbency was Stradbroke, also in Suffolk, and it was from here that Ryle became nationally famed for his firm preaching and staunch defense of evangelical principles, both from the study and the platform. He wrote several well-known books, mainly based on his tracts and sermons, and often addressing issues of contemporary relevance for the Church from a Biblical standpoint. Of these, perhaps the most enduring are "Holiness" and "Practical Religion", both still in print. Episcopate Ryle's uncompromising evangelicalism in the face of increasing liberal and Tractarian opposition gained him many admirers, and he was fast becoming one of the leading lights of the evangelical party. He was originally recommended for the post of Dean of Salisbury, but before he was appointed the out-going Conservative Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli offered him the position of Bishop of the newly-created Diocese of Liverpool. Ryle moved to Liverpool in 1880, and would stay until 1900. Despite his previous ministry experience having been almost exclusively exercised within a rural context, his plain speech and distinctive principles made him a favorite amongst Liverpool's largely working-class population. He proved an active bishop, encouraging the building of more churches and missions to reach out to the growing urban communities, and generally seeking to develop the new diocese as best he could. In common with many late Victorian bishops, Ryle was increasingly forced to deal with the tensions caused by the developing Anglo-Catholic wing of the Church of England. Of particular note is the so-called "Bell Cox Case" of 1885. Bell Cox was vicar of St. Margaret's, and a committed Ritualist. His Catholic practices soon came to the attention of several prominent evangelicals in the city, and one of them, James Hakes of the Liverpool Church Association, brought a private prosecution against Bell Cox under the Public Worship and Regulation Act of Despite Ryle's entreaties, Bell Cox refused to moderate his behavior, and thus the case proceeded to the Chancery Court of York, where Bell Cox was found guilty of contempt of court, and imprisoned for seventeen days. Ryle's behavior in particular was criticized for his failure to exercise his legal episcopal veto over the prosecution, and his apparent willingness to allow one of his clergy to be imprisoned over matters of worship. However, an examination of letters written by Ryle from the time suggest that Ryle was by no means a supporter of such practice, yet felt it wrong to come between the law and the defendant, particularly in the case of a private prosecution. In his speech to the Liverpool Diocesan conference the same year he openly declared the imprisonment of clergy over such matters as "barbarous", hardly a note of support. ​ Ryle's tenure as bishop in general is remarkable for his efforts to build churches and mission halls to reach the rapidly expanding urban areas of Liverpool. Though subsequent biographers have criticised this policy, owing to figures which suggest a general decline in church attendance,[[ Link title]] it perhaps says most about Ryle's heart as an evangelist; a desire for all to hear and respond to the Gospel. Ryle served as Bishop until March 1900, where in his eighty-fourth year, a stroke and a general decline in health forced him to retire, despite his desire to die "in harness." He retired to Lowestoft, Suffolk, however passed away on 10th June 1900. He was interred in All Saint's, Childwall, next to his third wife, Henrietta. Bio. Taken from Theopedia

enjoy your possessions before they possess you

Take an inventory of your life. What do you own right now? Whatever possessions you have are no accident, and not a product of mere happenstance. At the micro level, Jesus promises to care for even the minutest everyday details, like pocket money and food and clothes. As we see in Scripture, in these small possessions, God calls us to live with moral standards because we are susceptible to sinning our way into big problems (like unreasonable consumer debt). God calls us to be wise with money and to work and live economically fruitful lives, and to be careful with our possessions. At the macro level, all wealth distribution and re-distribution is the work of our sovereign God (Ecclesiastes 5:18–6:2). All of our possessions are his, and he gives (and takes away) as he sees fit. God makes the poor and he makes the rich (1 Samuel 2:7). So how does God decide to distribute wealth in the lives of his creatures? This plays out in many different ways. God may give you many possessions, but not give you the power to enjoy those gifts — a great tragedy (Ecclesiastes 6:1–2). God may give you accumulated wealth, and give you the power to enjoy those gifts — a great blessing (Ecclesiastes 5:19, Proverbs 10:22). God may give you possessions, but through future persecution, he may take all those possessions away from you in the end (Hebrews 10:34). God may call you to a life of unalleviated poverty (2 Corinthians 6:10; 8:9). God may give you a life of wealth (2 Chronicles 32:29). God may give you a life in the middle — neither poverty nor wealth (Proverbs 30:8). God may bless you with great wealth, then take it all away and reduce your portfolio to ash, and then restore you with doubled wealth (Job). God may make you wealthy and then call you to voluntary poverty in order to show the world that he is your greatest treasure (Matthew 19:21; Mark 10:21; Luke 18:22). None of these situations is normative, if God sovereignly dispenses possessions to us as he sees fit (which he does). When it comes to possessions, our experiences will vary greatly. But no matter how much (or how little) we possess, there are four things that will help us rightly enjoy the gifts God has given us. 1. Money is temporary. Money existed before us, and it will exist after us, too. The streams of commerce have been flowing for millennia, and one day we will be gone and the currents of economic stimulus will flow to the next generation. We exist in time with money and possessions, but everything of value we own will be passed on to others. Which means in a very real sense, money is temporary. It carries the face of a Caesar or a president to remind us its value is as temporary as world rulers and the rise and fall of nations. So give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s. In other words, the Christian is called to possess all things as though we don’t possess anything (1 Corinthians 7:30). Hold the money, use the money, save the money, steward the money. But also recognize the cash in our wallets is the Monopoly money of this present age. The cash itself has no eternal face value. We entered this life with empty hands, we leave it with empty hands, and to live in the middle with a lust for cash is like holding a sharp dagger backwards and gutting our own souls (1 Timothy 6:6–10). This is true of cars and houses, too. C.S. Lewis said the secret to genuinely delighting in one’s own house is through sacrifice, through a certain crucifixion of the self’s relationship to it. We sacrifice our house, we release our grip on it, and then it becomes an object of joy. When it comes to possessions, true delight is found on the other side of disinterest (Letters 2.788). The takeaway: We don’t boast in our possessions; we boast that God possesses us (Jeremiah 9:23–24). Here our stewardship comes into focus. Material blessing is our temporary stewardship, but delighting in God and his gifts is our true and eternal vocation. 2. Enjoy your possessions now. As we have seen, we don’t always know what God is doing in our lives when it comes to our material possessions. He has different plans for us all. But he intends all of his children to enjoy the gifts he has given us. If you have pants, a shirt, and a sandwich you can be content in life, and if you can be content with a little, you can enjoy God’s goodness to you in every one of the millions of simple gifts he gives to you every day (1 Timothy 6:8). In fact, few things in this life are better than to enjoy your life and the good gifts from God in a spirit of fear and obedience and faith toward God (Ecclesiastes 8:15; 9:7–10; 10:19; 12:13). If you are prone to grumble more than express gratitude, pray and ask that God would give you the power to enjoy his gifts rightly — a gift in itself. As the book of Ecclesiastes makes clear: One of the rarest and most precious gifts is the gift of enjoying our daily gifts. 3. Enjoy your possessions by sharing them. The man who cannot enjoy God’s good gifts every day is often the man who wrongly thinks he must own gifts before enjoying them. We don’t have to own something to find joy in it. Beautiful art is intended to be shared in museums and galleries, not to be locked in the secluded basement of a billionaire. The delight of exclusivity is a delusion — a false delight. Christians get this. The delight of sharing is what drove the early church to share everything they owned (Acts 2:45; 4:32; 1 John 3:17). They gave money. They cared for the poor. They helped the missionaries. A group of wealthy women funded gospel work (Luke 8:2–3). There is a special delight in our possessions when we don’t think of them as “mine” but make use of them to increase the delight of others. 4. Enjoy what you do not own. Finally — and perhaps the whole reason why I wrote this article in the first place — God calls us to enjoy what we can never possess. I cannot  own  many of the greatest gifts God has given me. I do not own my wife; I do not own my kids; I don’t own my time, or the oceans, or the rain, or the sunshine, or the majestic mountain ranges — certainly not in any sense in which I  own  my minivan (my name is on the title). The man who loves the ocean so much that he sells all that he has and buys a beachfront property with his own private sand and closes it off from others so that he can exclusively use it is the man whose joy will die by exclusivity. He cannot enjoy possessions because the possessions possess him. On the other hand, the man who buys beachfront property in order to freely share that property with his friends and family will find his joy doubled. By his seaside generosity, this man will bless many others in great ways. But perhaps the most blessed of all is the man who doesn’t need to own beachfront property at all. He has learned to enjoy every beach in the world for its sheer beauty. He is freed from the desire to enjoy only what he possesses. This seems to be the way Romans 1 pushes us to contemplate. To be truly human is to express a Godward gratitude in the delights of creation. And if that is true, then we discover that what it means to delight in this world is a category that explodes all the categories of what the world promises us in possession. Old Tom Bombadil The beautiful literary example of a man who delights in what he doesn’t possess is found in the character Tom Bombadil, tucked into the early storyline of Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. In the epic unfolding storyline, Tom Bombadil is a mysterious figure who is quick to laughter and who seems to live in a blessed state of joy. But his life also bears no impact on the central drama that is unfolding around him. (Thus, Tom Bombadil never appears in the movies.) Tom’s role in the overall story is subtle and easy to miss. Early in the journey, Frodo and company wander into his lands, into a respite of joy in stark contrast to the darkness they would soon face. “Who is Tom Bombadil?” a curious Frodo later asks Tom’s wife, Goldberry. “He is the Master of wood, water, and hill.” “Then all this strange land belongs to him?” “No, indeed!” No, indeed! The woods, the water, and the hills that fill Tom Bombadil with delight are not his to possess — they are his to tend and to enjoy. To be sure, Tom is not an allegory against owning property, nor is he an allegory for passivism. As Tolkien also makes clear, it will take warfare against Sauron to stop the encroaching evil in order to preserve the lifestyle that Tom and Goldberry enjoy. As if we need the confirmation, Tolkien makes it clear in his letters that Tom is an intentional enigma. Tom incarnates a contrast. Tom represents a soul that has been freed from the greed of possession in order to delight in created beauty. He has renounced control and therefore finds the means of power to be valueless, too. As a result, Tom Bombadil can hold Frodo’s great ring of power with no danger to himself or anyone else. The ring wields no power over Tom because Tom has no interest in possessing the power of the ring. When the lust for possession is broken, when gratitude takes its place, and when one can simply delight in the glories of creation, then some of evil’s darkest schemes in the human heart are broken. Tom Bombadil is a model of delighting in what we do not possess, and then of sharing what we do possess — like dinner fellowship around the yellow cream, honeycomb, white bread and butter at his table. May we shine like such glad-hearted, grateful enigmas in our own world.

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