What if you were Jesus Christ?

Can you imagine what it would be like to be Jesus Christ? No, I don't mean "can you imagine what it would be like to walk on water, to calm the storm, or turn water into wine." Rather, can you imagine what it would be like to be treated by God the Father as if you were his only beloved son?

Can you imagine what it would be like if it was you who, after being baptised in the Jordan River by John, were to come out of the water to see the heavens opened, and have the Spirit of God descend on you like a dove, and hear the Father say of you, "This is My beloved son/daughter, in whom I am well-pleased." (Matthew 3:17)
Can you imagine what it would be like if it was you who went with Peter and James and John up onto the Mount of Transfiguration, and it was written in the Bible, "[insert your name here] was transfigured before them; and his/her face shone like the sun, and his/her garments became as white as light... and a bright cloud overshadowed them, and behold, a voice out of the cloud said, 'This is My beloved son/daughter, with whom I am well-pleased; listen to him/her!'." (Matthew 17:2,5).

In other words, can you imagine what it would be like to be loved by God the Father just as if you were Jesus Christ? Imagine how secure you would feel in the Father's love. Imagine the inexpressible joy you would experience as a result of being in such close communion with the Father.

The remarkable thing is that we don't have to imagine such a scenario. It's reality for us right now. God the Father does in fact love ALL those who are in Christ just as if they were Christ himself. To be in Christ – to be a member of the body of Christ, to be united with Christ – is to be loved by God the Father to the same extent that he loves Christ.

Ephesians 1:3-14 is full and overflowing with blessings that are already the possession of those who are in Christ. Read those verses and consider the rich blessings that are ours – they are enormous – and note that they are all because we are in Christ.

In fact, every eternal blessing that we have, is ours because we are part of the body of Christ. Savour those blessings, delight in them. Taste and see and enjoy how much God the Father loves you because you are in Christ.

To live is to be comfortable, and to die is loss???

What does it mean to really live? For many, enjoying a quality life means to have a secure job with a good income, a comfortable, well-appointed home and happy relationships with spouse and friends. To die inevitably means the loss of these things.
Regardless of how we feel about eternity, most of us can understand how it feels to contemplate being separated by death from that which we love. We don't want to lose whoever or whatever is most important to us. Christians can identify with this as well as non-Christians.
But the Bible speaks of a perspective on life (and death) that is "better by far" (Phil. 1:23). Paul says in his letter to the Philippians, "For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain" (1:21). It's worth reflecting on what Paul means by this.
If we value the things of this life more than we value the things of the life to come, then death will result in loss for us, because death will separate us from that which we love.
But if we value most of all the things of the life to come, then death will result in gain for us, because death will result in us being united with that which we love the most.
If Jesus Christ is our greatest delight in this life, then for us, this life will be the richest it can possibly be. But it doesn't end there. If Christ is our greatest delight in this life, then the life to come will be immeasurably richer, because we will experience immeasurably more of Christ.
Do you want to experience the absolute best possible quality of life? Then don't expect to find it in the best job, the best home and the best relationships. They can all too easily let us down.
Rather, look for quality of life in a closer relationship with Jesus Christ. Aim to grow in your love for Christ, and you'll find that you always want more of Christ. You'll be hungry for Christ in this life, and you'll long for the life to come, because in it you will know more of Christ.
And you will be able to say, with Paul, "For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain." (Phil 1:21). And you'll also be able to say with Paul, "I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far." (Phil 1:23).

Do we pray less than we think?

How many times have you said to someone, with the best of intentions, "I will pray for you", and never got around to doing it?
How many times have you even said "I am praying for you", genuinely believing that you've been praying for them, and then found yourself wondering afterwards whether you have in fact prayed for them at all?
How many times have you set aside a time to pray, and having reached the end of that time, realised that you spent only a very small portion of the time actually praying.
If you're anything like me, it happens too often. If we were to examine ourselves honestly, most of us would probably find that we pray a lot less than we think we do. We might not deliberately fool people about the extent of our prayer life, but we can all too easily fool ourselves.
The Apostle Paul starts his letter to the Philippians with a pretty big claim about his prayers for them: "I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy". (Phil 1:3,4)
But how do we know Paul really does pray like he says? The answer to that question comes in verses 9, 10 and 11, where Paul tells them what he is praying for them, and actually writes out for them the words of his prayer. And so they can be in no doubt that Paul really, truly has prayed for them.
At a church I used to go to, there was an older lady – a wonderful saint – who sometimes, while we were discussing something over a cuppa after church, would stop and say, "why don't we pray about that right now, because if I don't, I'll forget."
I must admit to my shame that there were times when I felt a bit awkward doing that – standing there praying while surrounded by people chatting over morning tea. But at least I had absolutely no doubt that she was praying. And also, it gave her a lot of credibility when she would ask me from time to time how something was going, and would say to me, "I've been praying for you."
Maybe we can all learn from Paul's example – telling someone you're praying for them is good. Actually spelling out for them the content of your prayer, either in the text of a letter or verbally as you pray with them, is even better.