I waited patiently for the Lord. He turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of a horrible pit, out of the sticky mud. He stood me on a rock and made my feet steady. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many people will see this and worship Him. Then they will trust in the Lord. (vs 1-3)
Is this your story? It is mine. While Psalm 39 speaks of the discipline of the Lord - His heavy hand on us when we sin - this one gives the rest of the story. What happens when we have learned our lesson. So, if we are inclined to judge a Father Who would let His child sit in her circumstances for a while - until she gets to the bottom and wants none of her sin any longer - then we should also be in awe of the Father Who comes, Himself, into her shame and rescues her.
I think often of what it is that God sees when He looks to earth. Created for His pleasure, we actually walked in His presence in Eden. Took a beach walk, so to speak, with Him in the evenings to talk about the day. What did you name that creature? Elephant? Oh, that fits! That kind of thing. Wanting to know our joy with us. Setting His feet on His creation to throw a little bit of heaven into the physical universe: The tree of life, the river of life, the Giver of life. But we listened to a python hissing what we were missing and found ourselves naked in a pit. A fallen world where God could no longer walk with ease among us. Now when He peers into our daily doings He cannot but groan along with His universe as we all wait for the restoration of Eden. Abortion. Murder. Manipulation. Genocide. Rape. Lying. Hate. Fear. Children as Sex Slaves. War. Does He have to look really closely to see anyone trying honestly to walk in the cool of the evening with Him?
I danced on the rim of the pit before I fell in. Pain takes us places we don't want to go if we don't run like a chick to its mother when disappointment ravages our hearts. Doubt drives us to the edge of obedience and questions the love of God. Tantalizes us with another lover. Makes us reach farther out to grab the painkiller so that before we know it we have fallen headlong into the pit. No longer dancing on the edge, now stuck in the gunk at the bottom, hopeless. It takes a while to cry out. For one thing, shame tells you that you got into this mess yourself, so why would God listen now? Pride says, This is not so bad. Ignorance pleads the logic of why this is not really a pit but where you wanted to be all along. Nights are uncomfortable, though. It is cold and lonely in the cistern of sin. Daytime is spent in yelling toward the top where you can see a glint of light - the fun you used to have before you discovered you ultimately end up in mud up to your thighs. You will get enough after a while. Recognize that you are thirsty and starving and no one really cares a flip that you are stuck.
"Jesus...." A whisper at first because you forgot how to pray.
"Jesus..." Louder now because a tiny part of you remembers the sweetness of His breath.
"Jesus!" You cry it out, for there is no hope without Him.
"Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!" The mantra of your misery.
And the miracle? He turned to me and heard my cry.
He looked on the unthinkable. His child, filthy from her near-fatal jump into destruction, sitting hopeless in the gooey mud of her own addiction. Jesus zeroed in on sin. My sin. Because He heard, it stood out from all the wailing of His created world, my cry.
I don't know exactly what He thought when He bent over the edge of the well to see me crying and mired. I don't know why He lifted one leg after the other over the ledge and eased Himself into my pain. The mud from my feet touched the white of His garment as He lifted me up out the sticky sin that held me. I hadn't stood in a while nor had my eyes met the glare of daylight straight on, so it was tough to stand on solid ground for the first few minutes. But Jesus is strong. He held me up on a rock and did not let go until my feet were steady. He washed me off, dirt streaming from my body onto His, as He sang a new song to me. Over me, really. Joy was its theme. He was thrilled that we had overcome together. I sing it still. In the night. That song. I know my Redeemer lives.
I love Him. I will never forget His rescue. I will tell this story until I am with Him in Eden again. If your are dancing on the rim, move away from the edge. There is nothing to see there. If you are in the pit, whisper His name, for I know that is all you can do right now. But He hears above the din of sinners screeching and demons wailing, the call of His child from her pit.
Is this your story? It is mine. While Psalm 39 speaks of the discipline of the Lord - His heavy hand on us when we sin - this one gives the rest of the story. What happens when we have learned our lesson. So, if we are inclined to judge a Father Who would let His child sit in her circumstances for a while - until she gets to the bottom and wants none of her sin any longer - then we should also be in awe of the Father Who comes, Himself, into her shame and rescues her.
I think often of what it is that God sees when He looks to earth. Created for His pleasure, we actually walked in His presence in Eden. Took a beach walk, so to speak, with Him in the evenings to talk about the day. What did you name that creature? Elephant? Oh, that fits! That kind of thing. Wanting to know our joy with us. Setting His feet on His creation to throw a little bit of heaven into the physical universe: The tree of life, the river of life, the Giver of life. But we listened to a python hissing what we were missing and found ourselves naked in a pit. A fallen world where God could no longer walk with ease among us. Now when He peers into our daily doings He cannot but groan along with His universe as we all wait for the restoration of Eden. Abortion. Murder. Manipulation. Genocide. Rape. Lying. Hate. Fear. Children as Sex Slaves. War. Does He have to look really closely to see anyone trying honestly to walk in the cool of the evening with Him?
I danced on the rim of the pit before I fell in. Pain takes us places we don't want to go if we don't run like a chick to its mother when disappointment ravages our hearts. Doubt drives us to the edge of obedience and questions the love of God. Tantalizes us with another lover. Makes us reach farther out to grab the painkiller so that before we know it we have fallen headlong into the pit. No longer dancing on the edge, now stuck in the gunk at the bottom, hopeless. It takes a while to cry out. For one thing, shame tells you that you got into this mess yourself, so why would God listen now? Pride says, This is not so bad. Ignorance pleads the logic of why this is not really a pit but where you wanted to be all along. Nights are uncomfortable, though. It is cold and lonely in the cistern of sin. Daytime is spent in yelling toward the top where you can see a glint of light - the fun you used to have before you discovered you ultimately end up in mud up to your thighs. You will get enough after a while. Recognize that you are thirsty and starving and no one really cares a flip that you are stuck.
"Jesus...." A whisper at first because you forgot how to pray.
"Jesus..." Louder now because a tiny part of you remembers the sweetness of His breath.
"Jesus!" You cry it out, for there is no hope without Him.
"Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!" The mantra of your misery.
And the miracle? He turned to me and heard my cry.
He looked on the unthinkable. His child, filthy from her near-fatal jump into destruction, sitting hopeless in the gooey mud of her own addiction. Jesus zeroed in on sin. My sin. Because He heard, it stood out from all the wailing of His created world, my cry.
I don't know exactly what He thought when He bent over the edge of the well to see me crying and mired. I don't know why He lifted one leg after the other over the ledge and eased Himself into my pain. The mud from my feet touched the white of His garment as He lifted me up out the sticky sin that held me. I hadn't stood in a while nor had my eyes met the glare of daylight straight on, so it was tough to stand on solid ground for the first few minutes. But Jesus is strong. He held me up on a rock and did not let go until my feet were steady. He washed me off, dirt streaming from my body onto His, as He sang a new song to me. Over me, really. Joy was its theme. He was thrilled that we had overcome together. I sing it still. In the night. That song. I know my Redeemer lives.
I love Him. I will never forget His rescue. I will tell this story until I am with Him in Eden again. If your are dancing on the rim, move away from the edge. There is nothing to see there. If you are in the pit, whisper His name, for I know that is all you can do right now. But He hears above the din of sinners screeching and demons wailing, the call of His child from her pit.
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