Author: Meredith Beatty

I’ve read the book of Revelation many times as part of a Bible reading plan, but apart from trying to memorize parts of chapter 4 and 5, I couldn’t say that I’d spent more time in it than that. Like many believers, I have found the books of Ephesians and Psalms to be more beneficial for my walk with the Lord. Revelation has always felt like a big puzzle that could never be solved. I certainly never contemplated teaching it until recently.

I attended a Simeon Trust workshop last year and we learned about teaching apocalyptic literature by working through various passages in Revelation. I didn’t know what would come of this workshop. In the past I’ve used one of their workshops as a jump start in teaching specific books of the Bible. Did I think I would teach Revelation? Not at all. There were many reasons in my mind for why I wasn’t ready to teach this book: it’s too big, I haven’t studied Greek yet, there are too many differing interpretations.

But a curious thing happened that weekend as I listened to others teach from the book and learned more about it. The themes in it struck me as vitally important. I realized there was a significant hole in my understanding of who Jesus is, of what he is doing right now, and of the identity and mission of his church. Think of it this way – if the Bible is one story of God creating a people for himself and then working to redeem them in order to bring them back to himself in a restored and renewed creation, why would we ignore the end of that story? What if we’ve asked the wrong questions about this book and spent too much time being fearful and confused instead of using the book’s message of hope to fuel our endurance right now? After attending the workshop I knew I needed to teach this book. But where to even start? As I prayed and thought about it, I knew I needed a good chunk of time to prepare and some other people to come alongside and help.

Since last summer I have been reading and rereading the book, listening to podcasts and lectures, checking out commentaries, and talking with friends who are also curious to understand this book and teach it to others. It seems the book is getting more attention these days and people are eager to learn. (See Nancy Guthrie’s book and Jen Wilkin’s bible study.) This is exciting but also daunting. The daunting part has to do with the baggage that we all bring to the book. Many come to it with preconceived ideas, charts and diagrams, and already formed interpretations. Many are intimidated and fearful and throw up their hands at the prospect of ever understanding this book. My friends and I are thoroughly humbled by the task in front of us but also look forward to the opportunity. We are not Nancy Guthrie or Jen Wilkin but we know our women personally and love them. Our goal is to help our women learn how to read this book for all its worth and without fear. We long for Jesus to be revealed to them as the hero of the whole story. We pray that they would understand who they are as the beloved, blood bought people of God, a kingdom of priests who are called to endure patiently until Christ’s return.

As I continue to study and prepare to teach this book later in 2025, I hope to share my thoughts about what I’m learning, the questions I have, and the way I am going about structuring and writing this study.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him and he will make straight your paths.”

Proverbs 3:5-6

I tease my husband quite a bit about his favorite Bible verses. It seems he’s always referencing them no matter what the issue is. I used to get annoyed by it, but lately I’ve been seeing the wisdom of it. Especially with the above verse, Proverbs 3:5-6.

I have a problem, a hang up. I call it overthinking. It happens quite often. I question myself, my motives, my plans. I worry about what people think and what will happen. I sometimes even script out future conversations so I’ll be prepared. I constantly question myself as to what is the best way to do things. It could be as simple as my daily to-do’s or I’ll reach back into the past and question how I’ve parented my children. In our 21st century world, we have a glut of resources at our fingertips that promise to optimize our lives and make them more efficient, more comfortable and just plain better. Who wouldn’t want that? But at the end of the day, all those choices leave my head spinning and my heart sliding into anxiety.

Overthinking, at its root, is about wrong belief. I was going to say unbelief, but we all believe in something, or someone. Notice the contrast in Proverbs 3:5 – trusting in the Lord is set against leaning on our own understanding. When I lean on my own understanding, trying to account for every possibility, anxious to make sure I’m prepared for any eventuality, I’m really trusting in myself. I’m believing that my knowledge of every situation is complete and without error. But our understanding is finite and flawed. And Proverbs tells us straight out to not depend on it. What does it say instead? Trust in the Lord. So the opposite of overthinking, of leaning on your own understanding is trusting in the Lord. It’s leaning on him, it’s acknowledging the vast, multidimensional, infinite difference between my understanding of what is going on in my life and in the world, and God’s.

The creation contains lessons about these differences. An ant may be one of the most diligent of God’s creatures but it will never ascend to the heights where eagles fly. The eagle may soar to great heights but it has no idea of the depths of the oceans where the whale swims. But God is the one who created all these things and more out of his infinitely glorious mind. Things seen and unseen. Wonders known and not yet discovered.

So when you are tempted to lean on your own understanding, look up to the sky and remind yourself of the God who holds everything together and gives to us our next breath. He is worthy of all our trust.

At the end of 2022, while I was contemplating some big changes in my life, a dear friend of mine encouraged me with these words,

“Expect God’s kindness.”

In my contemplation of these changes I had become filled with worry that I wasn’t on the right path, fearful of making a mistake. Being a perfectionist and an overthinker doesn’t help me when it comes to seeking God’s guidance. I tend to see the ideal path as a road that’s hidden in the fog. Am I on it? Am I going the right way? Is God with me in this? But my friend’s words acted as a gentle yet firm corrective for me. If I am sincerely seeking the Lord’s guidance, I should expect his kindness. I should expect him to lead me like the good Shepherd that he is. The counsel of my friend makes me wonder what I have been expecting from God and if that lines up with his character.

“If I am sincerely seeking the Lord’s guidance, I should expect his kindness.”

Many times in prayer, I’ve noticed that I expect a negative answer, or that his answers will always be long in coming. I come to his throne almost as if I’m hoping to twist his arm, instead of falling into his gracious lap. Sometimes I even falsely suspect that God works according to Murphy’s Law – if it can go wrong, it will go wrong. I assume that God will always choose the hardest path for me. That he will always wait decades to save lost loved ones. I pray for the miraculous healing, but do I really expect it to happen?

My expectations reveal who I really believe God to be. If I expect the negative answer or the hard answer, then I really believe that God is stingy and severe. That he is not the good and gracious God that is revealed in Scripture. Now, a good God does say no to our requests, just as a good parent, but what I’m getting at here is the hidden expectations I have concerning God’s disposition toward me. Is it kindness or severity? Indifference or steadfast love?

If we truly know God as our Father, our expectations should align with his character and the gracious salvation he’s given us through Jesus. Because of our adoption into God’s family, as fellow sons and heirs, we have every right to expect what is good from our God. Our dear brother and Savior, Jesus Christ, has earned for us an infinite treasury of merit and untold spiritual blessings! So why is there this inclination to fear and doubt, to assume the worst? I think it comes down to this – my knowledge of God is deficient. I’ve allowed earthly experiences to override what is true. And I’ve succumbed again to the original lie, “God isn’t good.” My mind is in need of a deeper renewal.

For sure, we must not be too hard on ourselves. We are, after all, just dust. And praise God that he knows that and responds in compassion. (See Psalm 103:13-14) He is good and full of goodness toward us. He is not the forever-frowning taskmaster, eyes full of disappointment.

Let us build ourselves up with the truth of who our God is. Let us scour the pages of Scripture and absorb into our souls the picture of our gracious Father, our glorious King, and our unconquerable Savior. How might things change, our prayers change, our affections change, if the spiritual inclination of our hearts was to believe and to expect good in accordance with the goodness of our God? For the eyes of faith look down at our feet where we see the solid Rock. They look up and see the great cloud of witnesses cheering us on. And sometimes, like Stephen, these eyes of faith can also see our glorious elder brother, the Lord Jesus Christ at the right hand of the Father, interceding on our behalf.

Lord, let this vision change our hearts and our expectations.

“Your faith has made you well.”

Jesus

Is faith a force? Is it a power that we can wield to get what we want? It may seem that way from Jesus’ words above. But digging a little deeper into the context yields a different and rather surprising answer. On four separate occasions, Jesus speaks these words to people who had nothing and were, in the world’s estimation, less than nothing.

In Mark 5, Jesus is on his way to heal the daughter of one of the rulers of the synagogue. A great crowd is following Jesus, pressing in on him from all sides when suddenly, there was a woman. Whose daughter is she? We don’t know who she is or where she’s from. All we know is that she’s been bleeding constantly for twelve years. Go read the account in Luke 8. The doctor himself says in Luke 8:43 that this woman had spent all her money on physicians and no one could heal her. According to the law of Moses, her condition would have left her perpetually unclean and isolated from the worshiping community. Twelve years. No help. But she risked everything to get to Jesus because she knew he could help.

In Mark 10 we read of blind Bartimaeus. He was amongst a crowd of people in Jericho when Jesus passes by. Mark says he’s blind but also a beggar. He lost his sight and now was reduced to begging from people he couldn’t see. But he could hear. And when he heard that Jesus of Nazareth was passing by he begins to make a scene. He calls out loudly, begging the Son of David for mercy. The embarrassed crowd tells him to quiet down. But he won’t relent. He has nothing so when Jesus passes by he has nothing to lose.

In Luke 7 Jesus enters the house of a Pharisee who desires to share a meal with him. They sit down and begin eating but suddenly another person arrives, a notorious woman of the city, who proceeds to attend Jesus with much weeping, kissing of feet, and anointing with oil. The Pharisee sees her, but does he really? He’s busy making judgments in his heart toward her. He’s missing something and Jesus proceeds to explain by comparing their behavior towards him. He trusted in his own superiority and that led him to look down on the woman and not honor Jesus, recognizing him for who he was. The prostitute had nothing but recognized Jesus as the one who was worthy of honor and had the power of forgiveness.

In the fourth scene, ten lepers come out to meet Jesus at a distance in Luke 17. They know who he is and even call him ‘Master’. They ask for mercy and Jesus instructs them to go and show themselves to the priest. A priest was the one who would declare them clean or unclean. As they went, they were cleansed but only one of them, a Samaritan, returned to Jesus to give him praise and thanks. Jesus is astonished and tells the man that his faith has made him well. This Samaritan, a foreigner, who because of his leprosy and his ethnicity, is doubly cut off and without hope, is made well.

Two women – one isolated because of an incurable disease while the other was alienated because of her sin.

Two men – one blind and a beggar, shushed and ignored by the crowd while the other had no hope as a foreigner, his body wasting away from leprosy.

All four were destitute in their own way, either from disease or sin. All four were isolated from the community and could find no relief. Their faith was not a force. It wasn’t a kind of magical spiritual conjuring. No. Their faith had a real living object, the Lord of life, the Lord who offered forgiveness and healing. Faith has no intrinsic power apart from its object. But if our faith rests squarely on the one who spoke all things into existence, we can be confident that he hears and will answer according to his will.

Do we feel our bankruptcy and isolation? Our nothing-ness? These four people may have had nothing in the world’s estimation but they had access to the one who had everything. In a world where many of us have every comfort and convenience and can at once reach for all kinds of medicine and help and resources, has that weakened our faith? Do we understand who Jesus is and what he can do? I want to be like blind Bartimaeus who, when he heard that Jesus had called him, sprang up and came. He sprang! I don’t do much springing now at the age of fifty-two, but spiritually, what would it look like for me to have such a ‘springy’ faith? And look at Jesus’ response! He says, “What do you want me to do for you?” How often do I make faith more complicated than it needs to be? Jesus is right there. Just ask! Here in the example of a blind beggar we see the essence of faith. It’s not in our words or our worth. The essence of faith is an audacious confidence in its object, the Lord Jesus Christ.

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As I contemplated which degree to pursue in seminary, I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t take the languages – both Hebrew and Greek. I haven’t taken a class in either one yet, though I plan to tackle Hebrew in the fall (Pray for me!), but I was exposed to a little bit of Greek this past semester. In my class on Paul’s epistles (all the books Paul wrote, except Romans), my professor made reference to the Greek many times. That benefitted those in the class who already had a working knowledge of it, but even for people like myself, who have no knowledge, there was one thing in particular that I was able to understand and has changed how I understand some familiar passages:

You sometimes means y’all.

Let me explain. In English, apart from context, there’s no way of distinguishing between the singular and plural form of ‘you’. So when we read our English translations, it’s difficult to know whether the author is addressing a single person or a group. Sometimes translators help us by giving a footnote, but many times we’re left to ourselves.

You might not think this is a big deal, but reflect on our American culture for a minute and how individualistic it is. It’s all about self-actualization. And if we’re not careful, we bring this mindset into our Bible reading and study. We may unintentionally assume that the author is addressing us as individuals and not groups.

The importance of this hit home for me in class when we were looking at 1 Corinthians 3. I had memorized verse 16 when I was a new believer, way back in the early 90s. I was involved in the Navigators campus ministry and they had a topical Bible memory system. 1 Corinthians 3:16 was a verse we were to memorize as it related to relying on God’s resources. Let me quote it here:

“Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?”

For decades I had understood this verse in a very individual way, assuming that the ‘you’ in the verse was singular. It’s not. It’s plural. Yes, God’s Spirit dwells in each individual believer. We see this in the book of Acts (see Acts 2:1-4; 10:44-48) and in other places in the New Testament. But the Spirit also dwells in us, corporately. As my professor explained this, he might have seen a huge light bulb over my head! All of a sudden, I realized how I’d misunderstood this verse. Not only had I understood it in a very individualistic way – “Wow Meredith! You are God’s temple, and God’s Spirit dwells in you!” – in a way that kind of isolated myself within my own religious experience – but I’d divorced the verse from the context. In chapter 3, Paul is rebuking the Corinthians for their disunity and tribalism. They had divided themselves according to which teacher they followed – “I follow Paul!”, or, “I follow Apollos!”. To combat this, Paul uses two metaphors – one that is agricultural and another that’s architectural. He and Apollos and the other apostles are just servants, workers in God’s field – which is the Corinthians. Switching metaphors in verse 9-10, he says they, like master builders, laid a foundation and others were building on it. What were they building? They were building them! The Corinthians are God’s building!

So when he writes in verse 16 that they are God’s temple, he is speaking of them in a corporate sense, not individually. I now understand this verse in its full context – we are God’s temple. (See also Ephesians 2:19-22) And shouldn’t that have implications for how we treat one another? Do we serve the church in a way that contributes to the growth of the whole, or just ourselves? Do we love the church which is the temple of God’s Spirit? Do we pray for the church?

Because my professor did it, I think it’s ok to share with you what he would call the Southern translation of 1 Corinthians 3:16:

“Do y’all not know that y’all are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in y’all?”

For those of us who will never take Greek, or haven’t yet, keep this in mind when you read and study Paul’s epistles. Many times, Paul is addressing the group, not the individual. Be aware of the individualistic mindset you might be bringing to your Bible study. And here’s a couple tips to help – the KJV translation uses the word ye for the plural form of you. So if you aren’t sure whether the ‘you’ you’re reading is plural or singular, first check the context and then try reading the KJV translation.

I finished my first semester of seminary last month and am still reflecting on all I learned. For a Bible nerd like myself, I felt like a kid in a candy store. I enjoyed access to a well-stocked library, study rooms free of distraction, and rich conversation with professors and classmates. I learned so much in the classroom, but also took every opportunity to get to know the people around me. At every turn, whether it was in chapel or in a conversation with someone in the library, I was challenged and encouraged.

One of the biggest takeaways from my New Testament class had to do with what my professor called ‘commonality’. He used the analogy of a dry stone wall to explain what the body of Christ should look like. It is not like a brick wall, with every brick the same, held in place by mortar. No, the body of Christ is like the dry stone wall pictured above. Each stone is a different size but each one is fitted perfectly, depending on each other for the integrity and strength of the wall. Each stone benefits from the other.

It’s very tempting to see the Christian life through an individual lens, especially those of who live in the West. It can sometimes be all about ‘me and Jesus’. We not only think we can grow in isolation from other believers, but we secretly think that those who have less prominent gifts or those who are weak are not valuable. What could we learn from them? But if my professor’s analogy is true, then each stone in the wall is necessary. Every believer, no matter their strengths or weaknesses, no matter their stature or gifts, is necessary. It’s not ‘me and Jesus’ – it’s ‘we and Jesus’. In Christ, we share a blood-bought and Spirit-wrought commonality. We cannot grow apart from the body of Christ. Each member benefits from each other.

Paul knew this and practiced this. Even though he was an apostle, a great leader of the church who endured much suffering and experienced ecstatic visions, he understood the commonality he shared with other believers. He never discounted them or practiced his faith in isolation from them. In Romans 1:11-12 he says, “For I long to see you, that I may impart to you some spiritual gift to strengthen you – that is, that we may be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith, both yours and mine.” Paul the apostle wished to be encouraged by the faith of the Roman believers whom he had never seen. And to Philemon Paul says, “For I have derived much joy and comfort from your love, my brother, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you.” (Philemon 1:7)

Thinking about this, it reminds me of a man who works at our church. He is not a pastor. He works on the facilities staff. That means he sets up classroom spaces and does the hidden but necessary work of keeping the building looking clean and functioning properly. I wish I knew his name, but I can’t forget his friendly face last week when I walked into the building. His greeting was warm and kind and made me feel welcome. I know I’ve seen him many times over the years, and every time his greetings encourage me. His kindness and welcoming spirit is a reflection of the divine hospitality of our heavenly Father. And it encourages and challenges me to extend kindness to others, no matter who they are. God has obviously blessed him with this kind disposition and I need his example in order for me to grow.

The next time you’re tempted to discount someone else in the body of Christ, stop and think about how their gifts can encourage and challenge you.

Thanks for catching up with me! I’ll be writing more about what I’ve learned this first semester in seminary. If you’d like to be notified when I write something new, you can enter your email address below.

“Be still my soul: the Lord is on thy side. Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain. Leave to thy God to order and provide; in every change he faithful will remain. Be still my soul: thy best, thy heav’nly Friend through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.”

Katharina von Schlegel

Placid. Undisturbed. That’s how the waters of the Chattahoochee River looked this morning as I ran beside it. I wonder if this picture captures the state of my own soul. As I stopped to observe another sunrise over these waters I contemplated the words of the above hymn. Stillness of soul and peace come as I think about the truths contained in it.

The Lord is on my side. Psalm 118 says the Lord is on my side as my helper. The one who spoke everything into existence and upholds everything at every moment is on my side. Don’t rush over that. He is on our side. Truly, if God is for us, who can be against us?

We can bear any cross, any sorrow, and any pain because the Lord is ordering and providing in and through them all. No, we don’t always understand, but he remains faithful through it all. Just think of the alternative – if God isn’t sovereign over your trials, then who is? Satan? Are your circumstances just random, dictated by a nameless and faceless Fate?

More than that though, he is a best and heavenly Friend who doesn’t leave us in our trials, but leads us through them.

I see at least seven truths about God in this one verse which can and should bring stillness to our souls:

• The Lord is on our side.
• The Lord orders every trial.
• The Lord provides in every trial.
• The Lord remains faithful when everything around us changes.
• The Lord is our best heavenly Friend.
• The Lord leads us through every trial, never leaving us alone.
• The Lord will make sure the end is full of joy.