We use the word “integrity” to refer to something being in good condition. So, when we talk about the structural integrity of a building or of a ship’s hull, we mean those things are “sound” and “whole.” We use “integrity” in reference to people, too. Generally, if we speak of someone having integrity, we mean that there’s a wholeness to their character. Their morals are sound. If someone lives with integrity, it is not simply that they talk and behave decently. We would say the reason their behavior is proper is because their values and desires are proper.

The first six Commandments deal with our relationships with others: God and our fellow man. The final four Commandments get at the question of personal integrity. When someone steals, lies, or covets, it is a clear indication that their values and desires are highly improper. Such a person lacks honesty, empathy, and contentment. They say and do bad things because they are bad, not “sound and whole.” It is harsh, yet unfailingly true. Thus, when we break one of these Commandments, it is pointless to make excuses. Let us simply cry out, “Lord, have mercy, for failing to live with integrity!” And let us trust the Christ, who died so that we might be made “sound and whole.”

This week we see how our Father makes the treasures of his house available to any and all. He places them in the last place we’d expect—the trash. In God’s family, the things the world prizes and pursues are counted as worthless. Conversely, what the world rejects and discards is considered priceless and worth pursuing.

The best example of this is Jesus Christ himself. The Father sent his greatest treasure—God the Son—to earth. And many considered Jesus to be a trash that needed to be taken out. . . a troublemaker that needed to be killed. In truth, Christ is the precious cornerstone that God used to build his house, the one with the open door.

We assume people get what they deserve. We assume that what goes around comes around. We assume God helps those who help themselves. Those assumptions are false. God does not operate on the principle of merit but of grace. No one is beyond the reach of God’s grace. God never turns it off. At the entrance of God’s open door is not a Father looking to condemn us, but a Father who has eagerly longed for our return. When we do, he takes us in his loving arms and assures us we are still his child. When the weight of our sin makes us fearful of God’s condemnation, he reveals his grace yet again.

The Second and Third Commandment both relate to how our merciful God saves us. The Second Commandment deals with God’s name. God’s “name” is more than words we use to refer to Him: the Lord, Jehovah, Jesus. God’s name includes His reputation, i.e., everything the Word tells us about God. The Third Commandment deals with the Sabbath rest God wants His children to enjoy: resting from fear of condemnation, resting in His promise of mercy.

When we use God’s name flippantly… when we take God’s reputation lightly… when we are apathetic about His Word… when we have little interest in the spiritual rest He offers… we demolish these Commandments. That hurts us way more than it hurts God. Disobedience of these Commandments are attempted acts of spiritual suicide. If we continue in this rebellion, we are guaranteeing that hell is our eternal home. So, this week, we ask the Spirit to give us the ability to sincerely pray, “Lord, have mercy, for demonstrating irreverence for your name and despising your Sabbath rest.”

The heavenly Father is always present in the lives of His children. He sees every sorrow we endure. He also sees every sin that we commit, even if it’s only in our thoughts. He is always present. Yet, He is also always patient. God does not snap at us the second we turn from Him. He gives us time to see the error of our ways. He assures us that the door back to Him remains always open. By giving us room to share our struggles and shortcomings, He works in us the very repentance He desires and saves us from the judgment that would otherwise be ours.

Normally in a family everyone must do their part. . . pitch in. . . pull their weight. In God’s family, he assigns and accepts the work of one on behalf of all. In God’s house, God’s Son—our brother, Jesus—stands alone on the field of battle against our enemies in our place. He fights vicariously. He fights victoriously.

This week we see one man, Jesus Christ, stand against Satan. We simply sit and watch with eyes full of wonder and repentant faith. Because Christ fought that battle as one of us, he won that battle for all of us. The door to heaven stands wide open for those who believe in him.

Whenever someone accuses us of doing wrong, it’s easy to get defensive. We make excuses. “I’m not that bad.” We try and balance the scales. “Okay, that was wrong. But look at all the good I do!” We play the comparison game. “At least I’m not like him!” When our defenses go up, repentance is impossible.

God, however, has a strategy for lowing our defenses. He assures us that his door is open, and that his home is the place where we don’t need to pretend to be something that we’re not—perfect. Our Father does not ask us to come to him and confess our sin so that he might know what we’ve done. He already knows. He asks us to repent so that we might fully know what we’ve done. Only when we grasp the true weight of our sin, will we call out to God for mercy. When we do, God is always quick to forgive.

Ash Wednesday marks the begging of Lent, reminding us of our mortality and calling us to repent. The ancient practice of imposing ashes on the foreheads of the faithful is what gives Ash Wednesday its name. The church father Tertullian (c. A.D. 160-215) writes of the practice as a public expression of repentance and of our human frailty that stands in need of Christ. Ashes can remind us forcefully of our need for redeeming grace as they recall words from the rite of Christian burial—“earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”—words that will someday be spoken over us all.

Would you look directly at the sun? Only if you wanted to burn your retinas and have permanent blind spots. Would you like to look directly at God? It sounds wonderful in theory. Yet Scripture describes God’s glory as being brighter than the sun. Moreover, one component of God’s glory is his holiness. Being holy doesn’t just mean God loves good; he also hates evil with burning intensity. And we sin every day. No wonder the Lord once told Moses, “No one may see me and live” (Exodus 33:20). Sinners would die of fear if they saw God in all his holy glory.

So, how then can we possibly know God? How can we draw near to him without dying of terror? In our final epiphany moment of this season, God explains. God hides his glory in order to reveal himself. To carry out his good and glorious work of salvation, Jesus hid his glory and went to the cross. To allow sinners to stare at his glory without fear or harm, God hides it in the gospel. In the gospel, we see the glory of Christ’s love, power, and salvation. The reality is that when God’s glory is hidden, it is most on display.

“This is good. That is bad.” We often think life is that simple. We believe we can assess a situation accurately and determine if it is positive or negative. It’s hubris. As Jesus gathered followers, he taught them that his kingdom runs exactly opposite to the principles and priorities of the world. Therefore, much that we think is good is bad, and vice-versa.

If we want to accurately see the world, we need to have this epiphany. That which the world considers a blessing can often be a curse. Things like success and wealth and health can lead us away from our God. We become so enamored with those blessings that we forget about the Blesser. Conversely, there are hidden blessings in what we would normally consider curses. When we fail, when we suffer, and when things don’t go our way, it forces us to put our trust in God and for our souls to be satisfied in him. The reality is that perceived blessings can be cursed and perceived curses can be used for our blessing.