PSALM 63 - Tryptophan

My soul shall be satisfied as with fat and rich food, and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips when I remember You upon my bed and meditate on You in the watches of the night.  For You have been my help, and in the shadow of Your wings I will sing for joy.   (Vs. 5-7)

I have been thinking about what I will make for Thanksgiving side dishes....turkey a given.  A friend of mine was telling me about her upcoming trip to her in-laws, who are vegans.  Tofu turkey was not an appealing thought to her and her husband.  They were going to make a turkey for themselves and take it north in a cooler so they could enjoy all the gooey richness of basted fowl and juice-infused dressing.  I wonder if vegans have the joys of tryptophan.  Piled on top of the bird in our tummies is gravy, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie.  I always make a vegetable, but that is incidental to the meal.  Oh, and fresh crescent rolls have to land somewhere atop the feast.

After the Thanksgiving meal we all hold our stomachs, which by then are grossly protruding, as we say with disgust:  "I ate way too much!"  Then we lie on couches and watch a movie (or football, much to my chagrin).  Full.  Satisfied....maybe overly.  (This is not to say that a couple of hours later there aren't some of us who make a little turkey sandwich with a crescent roll and cold dressing.)  A feast day to celebrate just how thankful we are for all we have.  Especially here in America.

God satisfies my soul that way.  Makes me really full.  The longer I know Him, and the more I know about Him, the more complete in my God I feel.  Needing nothing more to fill the hollows of my soul.  Like love here on earth does from time to time.  All kinds of love:  family, friends and lovers.  Each has a way of fortifying us for life.  Ah, but life is temporal.  And all earthly things are made to come and go.  No other person can be everything to us...or shouldn't. 

I heard some disturbing news last night right before I went to bed.  Stacked on top of that was news from earlier in the day that made my heart hurt.  Though I fell asleep, the slumber didn't last.  Awake at midnight, I tossed and turned as I tried to work through the predicament in my mind.  There are times, I decided once again, that only God can change circumstances and hearts.  Instead of pondering the problem I must consider the solution.  And remember.  Remember Who is in control.  Though I would fix the issues for my friends if I could, it would only be a temporary solution because I am not God.  I have seen my Father heal the sick, forgive the sinner, restore broken marriages and save the most stubborn of skeptics.  "I am the Lord, the God of all flesh.  Is there anything too hard for Me?" He asks. (Jeremiah 32)  Of course, the answer is absolutely not.

I am challenged to remember how fat my Savior has made my soul.  It is to Him I run for refuge and He covers me with His wings.  It is from under there....in the shadow of that protection...that I sing with all my might.  Sated with His love and brave because I am a chick with a very big Father, I tweet to the enemy his defeat.  When pressed by the vicissitudes of life here on earth, lying awake searching for solutions, my only peace comes in knowing my God has always come through for me in the past.  Never failed me.  Ever.  In any way.  Faith appears, shield up, and fights against the odds, reminding me that all things are possible for those who believe.  Assuring me of all God has done and will do. Deep breaths in the night watch.  The tryptophan of God's richness lulls me back to sleep.

 

PSALM 63 - Life is Sweet

So I have looked upon You in the sanctuary, beholding Your power and glory.  Because Your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise You.  So I will bless You as long as I live.  In Your name I will lift up my hands.    (Verses 2 - 4)

I just attended the funeral of a dear friend's husband.  The sanctuary was filled with people who love them both.  At the front of the church was a small shrine with her husband, John's, picture and ultimately, the teak wood box containing his ashes.  John wasn't there any more.  His memory, however, was palpable and his character clear by all the people who came to honor his life.  The clear message of the service was the hope this wonderful man had because he had surrendered his life to Christ.  Cutting through the enormous pain of those who are left was the wonder of where their beloved is right now.  This very minute.  Breathing crisp, pure heavenly air and looking with awe at the face of his Savior.  Better than life.  This life.

Sometimes when I take a walk down the beach, I can't imagine life being more amazing than it is in that moment.  Playing with grandsons, eating with my own kids, sipping wine and talking about the day with Bill on the porch in the late evening, watching dolphins rolling playfully in the ocean, sharing stories with my friends, or seeing the sun splash its majesty across the skies right before it decides to retire for the night are grand to me.  They are life at its most profound.  What could be better than this!  My thought when I am so close to what is best in my world. 

What I thought at the funeral today is this:  All of the things I treasure in my life are so good because He makes them better than they should be.  God's love, steadfast and immutable, is wrapped around all the beauty and relationships in my life.  Because He loves me, I am secure.  In this life and in the next.  Right now I can only see the glory of Christ imperfectly -- look at His glory and power through a clouded lens.  One day I will look into His perfect face with perfect clarity and know, beyond doubt, that God's love is better than anything in this life.  That is why experiencing my Father here makes that transition natural.  Traveling from one home to the next.  From glory to glory.

So I was reminded today about the fact that all must die.  We don't finagle our way out of it.  It is  going to be our fate if we got here in the first place.  I know there are some who believe we are just dust to dust with nothing more after this life.  Some believe we go on to become something or someone else.  Others believe in some vague "by-n-by."  But for those of us who know what it means to have seen God in His sanctuary performing on our behalf what only He can do through His power and for His glory, we are not afraid or confused.  Because the Father we know here in this world is only a breath away preparing a place for us that this earth only vaguely replicates.  All of our praising here on earth is tinny and small compared to the symphonies and choirs of saints and angels whose lips ever bless our Christ there.  Life here can be so sweet.  Infused with the goodness of God.  So I will bless Him as long as I live with hands lifted up to His throne knowing that, sweeter yet, is life ever after with Him.

They will see His face.......Revelation 22:4

PSALM 63 - Water In The Desert

O God, You are my God.  Earnestly I seek You.  My soul thirsts for You.  My flesh faints for You as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.  (Vs. 1)

Does life sometimes just wear you out?  Sleepless nights when you try to work out in your mind what plays out in the daytime?  Sapped of joy.  Heart dried up.  Soul weary.  That's when we need a huge drink of living water to plump up a thirsty soul.

Should we be surprised when God leads us to the desert?  Jesus was familiar with its burning sand and seemingly interminable stretches without oasis.  In His own desert experience,  He was forty days without food or water.  But when He emerged, faced the enemy, and conquered his temptations, our Savior was ready to change the course of history.  Perhaps the desert has purpose after all.

I used to think I loved the Lord.  And I have always been confident of His love for me.  But, if I am completely honest, this little Baptist girl thought Jesus loved me because I was such a good Christian.  Though I had a heart for people who had blown it, I think lurking deeply beneath the surface was a heart which thought itself  to be above the sinners around me.  I didn't even know this until I became the sinner instead.  Thrust headlong by the pain of discovering my father's pedophilia and the crush of my mother's subsequent death, I ran with all my might to the desert.  Not smart.  While the running seemed to ease the excruciation, it led me to a fountain that dried up almost immediately.  Left thirsty and barren, I lay there in the sand for too long while my heart shriveled and my skin burned. 

Finally, I became dehydrated enough and frustrated beyond my capacity to bear trying to make water come from a well gone dry. 

"Jesus?"  A question at first.  I mean, how could He even hear me so far out in the wilderness.

Aching need.  Missing my God.  But He seemed so far off.  Back in the past yet the scent of Him in my present.  "How could He still love me?"

"Jesus."  No longer a question but now a longing, yearning for a talk with Him.

I had left my Bible in the sand miles back.  I crawled on hands and knees and found it there.  Food. Water.  Just a little at first.  Almost sounded unfamiliar.  Yet it whet my sullied appetite and gave me a little strength. 

"Jesus!"  Now a cry.  Thirsty for Him.  Craving a talk.

I heard His footsteps brush across the desert floor and felt Him as He neared me.  I couldn't look up at Jesus at first.  So ashamed was I at having been so unfaithful and afraid.  Jesus put His hand upon my head and stroked my hair.  That is all that first time.  But it was enough to let me know He would lead me back.

What did I learn in the wilderness?  I learned to love my Christ because He loved me first.  To understand the life bereft of relationship with Him is desiccating and deadly.  That He is my breath as well as my food and water.  Nothing I can do earns this kind of devotion, for He came into my desert to rescue me from myself.  I now love Him on a level I had no experience of before the wilderness.  Know why the woman broke the costly jar of perfume and spread it over His feet, wiping the excess with her hair.  The one who is forgiven much, loves much.  And, I learned to spot a sister lying in the sand.  I know she is there because of pain and don't judge her for finding herself prostrate before an empty cistern.  I know that if she calls to Him for water,  He will come and stroke her hair and lead her to a well that never will run dry.

For the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their Shepherd, and He will guide them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.   Revelation 7

PSALM 62 - Shopping With Children

Once God has spoken, twice I have heard this:
That power belongs to the Lord, and that to You, O Lord, belongs steadfast love.  For You will render to a man according to his work.  (Vs. 11-12)

I was at the mall this summer with Heather and my grandsons, Nicholas and Alexander.  Heather wanted to find a new bathing suit, and she and I were picking through the desultory tops and bottoms trying to match them up while the boys were....well, being boys.  Running beneath the rounds of clothing nearby, making silly faces in the Macy's full length mirrors that are hideously planted to allow us to see cellulite we had no idea was hanging from our upper arms (we meaning me), and playing chase.  I don't know what it is about malls that make kids turn into such buggers.  Heather had a minor meltdown.  So, I took the boys outside, one little hand in each of mine, into the heat with me to sit on a concrete bench and ponder what they had done. 

"We are just going to sit here on this bench and think about why your mommy got so frustrated," I began.  "Any ideas?"

"We were being bad."  Tentative response from Nicholas.

"Yeah," added Alexander.  "We didn't do what she told us to."

"Do you think she deserved to be able to shop for a few minutes without having to round you up every two seconds?" I asked.

"Yes." From both of them.

"She does so much for you  all the time." I continued, not wanting to shame them so much as to make them understand.  "Wouldn't being obedient in the store be a good way to show her how much you care about her?"

"Yes."  From both of them.

Then Nicholas hit it on the head.  "We need to tell her we are sorry."

"Well, before we do that," I said, "let's go get you some t-shirts."   They had gotten tar on the new ones they had worn to California.  Sometimes the beach kelp has tar hidden in its mass.

"Yes!"  Alexander is a clothes horse.

Heather had plenty of time to choose the right swimsuit and the boys and I found super-hero shirts.  We met up in the childrens' department.

"Mommy," said Nicholas and Alexander as they ran to her.  "We are really sorry for the way we acted." 

Ironically, there were two other "mommies" trying desperately to corral their kids who were running under clothing rounds and yelling at each other from across the store.  No one seemed to notice this in the apology process, but I had been watching these children the whole time the boys looked for shirts.  It's a disease, really.  But every mother sees it as a reflection of her parenting.  Obedient children are just such an incredible blessing, right?  And obedience is a matter of the heart.  Of understanding  how much the one we obey loves and cares for us.

If we know Christ, we have a Father who has all the power.  Period.  Over everything.  And He wields that power in unconditional, never-ending love.  The perfect parent.  Our Father looks at the heart of what we do.  Desires our compliance with His demands out of a heart willing to please Him.  One that reciprocates His love and shows that by doing what He asks of us.  God is powerful enough to crush us and make us do His bidding.  But power without love is tyranny.  And God doesn't want our obedience to be beaten out of us but surrendered to His benevolence.

What my grandsons quickly understood was the heart of their mother.  What I no less understood was their love for her.  As soon as they saw their disobedience from her perspective, they immediately repented.  Because they love her so much.  They weren't in fear of being beaten because they had acted incorrectly, but they were crushed that their mommy might be a little ashamed of their behavior.  That made them a little ashamed, too. 

I was up in the night last night feeling a little ashamed of my behavior the other day.  I believe God brought it to my mind in gentle reprimand.  Though I had apologized and made it right with the person I had inadvertently offended, I needed to make it right with my Father, too.  He expects more of me, given the years I have been His kid.  I want to look like an adult now.  One who takes long walks with my Father to discuss more pressing things than how stupid something I said was.  I want my Father to take my maturity seriously.  Why?  Because I love Him so much.  Want Him to be proud of me.  And I don't want to be concerned about the day when He rewards me for my works because I want the ones that stand up to my God's scrutiny to have all begun in Him.  I have a long way to go.  But once or twice I have heard this:  All power belongs to my God, and to my God belongs steadfast love.  My Father will grow me up yet.

 

PSALM 62 - What's It All About?

Men are only a vapor; exalted men, an illusion.  Weighed in the scales, they go up.  Together they are less than a vapor.  Place no trust in oppression or false hope in robbery.  If wealth increases, pay no attention to it.    (Verses 9-10)

"Don't look for big things, just do small things with great love...The smaller the thing, the greater must be our love."  Mother Teresa

How do we get ahead in this world?   More importantly, why does it matter?  What, as the U2 song implies, are we looking for anyway?  Sure we want to survive.  Food in our stomachs, clothes on our backs and shelter over our heads.  Most of the world settles for that....or less.  Great people and small all have the same earthly future, however.  We will all die.  Our lives vaporized and gone from here.  Weighed on those scales, we are pretty lightweight.  Lighter than air.  No dead billionaire now has his money with him in the grave.  No beggar now wants for bread.  We are all on the same playing field when it comes to our demise.

So what's it all about?  What's the point of it all?  Wealth, fame and power are as fleeting as poverty.  On God's scale, they both go up.  So what is the weight holding the other side of the scales down?  Good question.  God's glory - His weightiness.  Made for Him and in His likeness, it is what we do because of Him that brings our lives earthly and eternal meaning.  Whether in the poverty in which Mother Teresa willingly immersed herself or in the riches of a billionaire like R.J. LeTourneau, it is God Who bestows our calling and the necessities for it.  LeTourneau, who quit school at the age of fourteen, became a jack of all trades in his youth.  His expertise became machinery and by World War II the earth moving equipment he created amounted to seventy percent of all the machinery used in that war.  LeTourneau was immensely wealthy, but decided to live on only ten percent of what he earned.  He gave the rest to God in Christian causes and philanthropy.  When he died at the age of eighty, he took nothing with him.  But, be assured, there were riches awaiting him.

God isn't interested in giving us riches for the sake of making us rich.  Our God is concerned with the weightiness of our lives on His heavenly scales.  He gives no more honor to a Donald Trump than to the Salvation Army bell ringer.  Great preaching or gospel singing contracts aren't what He is after.  Our Father is concerned about our purposes.  For that is all we truly leave when all is said and done. Psalm 139 declares our Father has dreamed a dream for us.  Intricately "woven" us in our mother's wombs to be and do something that is weighty to Him though it might not look like much to the world in general.  This world may, in fact, never notice us.  Our purposes in their eyes may look minuscule.  But the glory of our vaporous journey here on earth is doing, with great love for our Savior, what we are lovingly designed to do.  If that brings great wealth, don't pay attention to it.  Our purposes aren't tied up in that.  If it calls us to great sacrifice, don't pay attention to that, either. Our pride in our own humility is also a trap.  Weighed in the balance, we don't want to be found wanting.  We should desire the weight, the glory, of our lives to be a reflection of His. 

Without love, we are nothing.  So says Paul, in I Corinthians.  If all our gain is selfish, we are lost, for wealth has become an end in itself and once obtained is vacuous.  If our physical, emotional or spiritual poverty defines us, our lives will stay there.  The motivation that drives us to a reason for living is love.  Created by a God Who is love, we can reasonably assume all He called us to is for love.  Love of Him first.  Giving over to God's great plans our own so they have a glory we are too small to bestow.
 

PSALM 62 - Refugees

Trust in Him at all times, O people!  Pour out your heart before Him.  God is a refuge for us.
(Verse 8)

Refuge:  sanctuary, shelter, haven, asylum, protection, cover, retreat, harbor, security, safe house, stronghold, citadel or hideaway.

Refugee:  fugitive, runaway,escapee, displaced person, exile or emigre.

"I have given them Your word, and the world has hated them because they are not of the world, just as I am not of the world.  I do not ask that You take them out of the world, but that You keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world just as I am not of the world." Jesus to His Father on the night He was arrested.

Feeling like a refugee today?  Need a shelter, a sanctuary?  Someplace safe to hide if only for a few minutes in order to catch your breath?  The world has any number of asylums for us.  Don't run there. Medicating in order to endure this life makes this life unendurable.  There are no safe havens for the Christian except our God.

I know that sounds fuzzy.  How does it look to run to God as a refuge.  We can't just run into a building or into tents set up in a refugee camp.  It isn't a physical thing we go to.  It's not like being in the rain and finding an awning to wait the storm out under.  So what does it mean? 

The altar of sacrifice in the temple had horns at the four corners of it, as did the altar of incense.  On the Day of Atonement blood was smeared on the horns of that altar showing sacrifice for sins.  Fugitives seeking asylum could cling to the horns, thus putting themselves under divine protection. This picture of running to the place of sacrifice for refuge is what David is speaking of.  There is no physical place to run to anymore.  It is more a matter of falling face down and crying out with our whole hearts to a God Who has His own blood sprinkled on a much broader altar for us.  Running away is not our alternative.  Running to is.  Grabbing ahold of the Father's robe and pouring out our need to Him alone. 

Would you trust the Lord at all times if you were convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt that He loves you with an everlasting, profound, immutable love?  Would we then know our safety is secured in our God because all He does is out of that immeasurable and unconditional love?  Were we to bring to Him all the unholy, selfish and conceited thoughts and desires we have and have them dealt with as Father to daughter instead of inquisitor to prisoner, would we then feel safe to bear all?   Should we become absolutely convinced that our God knows not only our name, but our path, we would stay in the place of refuge He is.  Not venture far from the sanctuary of His great grace.  Grab the horns of the altar as an exile from our sinfulness and a safe house from the world that throws its hollow escapes our way.  It is God's love that shelters us under His wings, opens the doors to the strong tower of His protection, and creates a safe place to be our truest selves.  Only our certainty that we are loved unconditionally, Mother Teresa believed, gives us the strength to abandon ourselves to God completely and without reserve.  Refugees in search of safe harbor, we find our home in Him.

PSALM 62 - A Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On

He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress.  I shall not be greatly shaken. (vs.2)
For God alone, O my soul,  wait in silence, for my hope is from Him. He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress.  I shall not be shaken.  ( vs. 5-6)

I was sitting in our community spa with my good friend, Mary, on Easter Sunday afternoon a couple of years ago when the water started moving around in a peculiar fashion, swirling over the boundaries of the spa.  The earth shook.  Rattled us.  We left to go back inside my house to see the chandelier over the dining room table swaying in a rambunctious arc and our men chatting about the jolt we just had.  We shake sometimes in California.  We feel it under our feet -- the rolling of the ground.  Or we hear it make a pop as the earth spews a little.  And it always comes out of nowhere.  A little surprise that wakes us up to the fact that the earth is doing some secret thing in its interior and our houses are in the way.

Other things shake us, too.  Come out of the blue and make us quake.  Like the day my father was arrested.   Or when we discovered my mother had cancer.  We have lost jobs.  Lost money.  Been confused by life on the whole. 

I was in my closet praying.  The time of testing for me was great.  I was a young mother with two little girls ages two and four.  Bill had moved to Atlanta ahead of us to start a new job.  But that had been three months before and I still had not sold our house.  On this particular day, I awoke covered in sweat.  Texas nights are hot in July and our air conditioning gave up trying to make it cooler.  I checked on my girls.  They, too, were sopping wet, but still sleeping.  That morning the air conditioning service man declared our compressor to be dead.  By mid-afternoon, I had a raging bladder infection and needed medication.  I took my babies out to eat at the local Dairy Queen on the way home and was propositioned there by a man who thought I was a single mom.   Just an awful day.  An awful three months alone.  Coping.  Wondering what God was doing with us.  Why we hadn't sold our home.  Were we doing the right thing.  The girls were sleeping in the heat when I went to the closet to meet with God.

What I wanted to know, it turns out, was if He loved me.  That isn't how it started out.  I thought I wanted to know what He was doing.  How He was going to sell the house and bring our family together.  But when I was quiet before Him in that place of prayer, the question of my heart was:  "Do you love me?"  I felt alone and unseen.  Things were broken and life out of whack.  After I tearfully asked the question, I simply sat in His presence, rocking back and forth and crying.  Then the most wonderful thing happened.  I felt His love.  It covered me, palpably, like a warm blanket or as though warm water was flowing over me.  It came in waves, this feeling.  Rapturous is the best word I can use to describe it.  Like my Father met me there in the silence and stroked my hair and held me.  I love my heavenly Father.

The next morning Bill called.  "Guess what?"  he asked. 

I had no idea but he sounded out of breath.  "What?"

"I just found out the entire company is moving from Atlanta to California!  If we had sold our house and moved three months ago, we would be stuck in Atlanta trying to sell a new house here!  Isn't that great news?"  Bill was so excited.

I was, too.  Of course our God had to make us wait.  Because He knew our future.  It wasn't about not being noticed.  Exactly the opposite.  Our house sold that week.  No surprise there.  We moved to Atlanta for six weeks, just long enough for us to introduce our neighbor to Jesus.  We wouldn't have met her, either, had we moved prematurely. 

It is His love we limit.  Perhaps, as with me, out of our very real understanding that we don't deserve it.  We can hope through the shaking because we are loved to pieces by our Father.  Had I not run to Him for refuge that very steamy evening in Texas summer,  stilled myself in His presence, I wouldn't have known the intimacy we shared.   Our God is our fortress because His arms are safe, His knowledge complete and His will unimpeachable.

 

PSALM 62 - Sunsets and Silence

For God alone my soul waits in silence.  From Him comes my salvation.  (Verse 1)

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him.  Psalm 37

Do not overlook this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.  The Lord is not slow to fulfill His promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing any should perish but all should reach repentance.
I Peter 3

I have seen some things on this earth that awe me to silence.  The redwood forest in northern California.  Lake Tahoe and its breathtaking expanse and rugged forests.  Orphan children in Cambodia.  The warm, snuggling babies of my own I have held for the first time in my arms.  Grandsons.  The sunsets over the ocean that create colors in the sky and on the lapping waves that are impossible to recreate in light and hue.  The Royal Gorge.  The Maui coastline from a parasail.  The death of my father-in-law.  All mysterious to me in wonder and import.  Language far too shallow for the moment.

Yesterday's sermon at my church was on the transfiguration of Christ in Mark 9.  While his disciples sleep (they did that a lot at important times), Jesus is changed into His more heavenly state as He meets with Moses and Elijah on a mountaintop.  Only Peter, James and John were allowed there and perhaps their sleep was God-ordained.  One must wonder what they would've said as Jesus walked into the eternal presence of the Law-giver and the Prophet who had come to discuss His death and resurrection with Him.  But the three awoke with Jesus mid-conversation.  Jesus was aglow, His body changed to look ethereal and strange.  The three men were terrified at the visage.  Didn't know what to think.  Can you imagine this, though?  Peter actually interrupts the heavenly conversation.  He didn't know what to say, the Bible says, so he says something!  Dumb.  "How about let's build three tents for you guys to spend the night up here in?"  What?

I have done such a foolish thing.  Said something because it was just too quiet.  Nervous in the silence, I blurt something irrelevant and ridiculous.  Inappropriate to the occasion.  For Peter, the rebuke was instant.  A cloud overshadowed them on the mountain and a voice from the cloud spoke:  "This is my Beloved Son.  Listen to Him."  Ouch.  Of course, the imperative was broader than just a rebuke to Peter.  Listen to the Christ, for He is Mine.  Hear Him as He tells you of His coming death and resurrection.  Understand His mission to fulfill the law and the prophets.  Be silent before Him.  Be quiet.  Don't talk.  Take Him in.  He is too marvelous for your mere words.

Waiting on God for anything?  What are you saying to yourself in the process?  Really.  Are you asking yourself:  "Will He ever do what I ask of Him?" or  "When? I am so weary of this prayer."  Are you listening to naysayers who tell you God will never come through?  Does the enemy of your soul have a tape he plays over and over again in your head that you have come to listen to instead of pushing STOP?  You are not alone, if this is where you are.  But this isn't what our God wants from us. 

Be awed by Him as I am by the sunset over the ocean.  It is too grand to be haphazard.  Too breathtaking to be minimized.  And it is His hand that paints it across the horizon.  So much greater is He than His creation!  His mind conceived and designed all at which we wonder.  He is that much greater than all we need.  Look past all we wait for today.  Breathe deeply in awe and be silent before Him for Whom time has no particular meaning.  In the days and hours of waiting, sit with Him in the comfort of the quiet, closing the door to the voices that would interrupt with the dumb response to His greater plan for you.  Hold His hand and watch the sunrise together.  Your Father has all the time in the world.  Listen to Him.

PSALM 61 - The Roadtrip With My Father

So will I ever sing praises to Your name as I perform my vows day after day.  (Verse 8)

I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.  Romans 12

Vanessa really just wants to write music and sing.  That is her Plan A for her life.  Frustrated by the mundane life of earning a living doing her job right now, she often wonders, as she did last night, if she if living instead in Plan B.  Such a good question.  Honestly, we have all wondered that.  Even the ones who got all the Plan A stuff they wanted.  Because life isn't all it's cracked up to be sometimes.  I know a young woman who only wanted to get married.  Time was running out.  In her late thirties, she has her Plan A and it doesn't look a thing like she thought marriage would be. 

 "I wish everyone could experience being rich and famous so they could see it's not the answer to anything."  Jim Carrey.  Even celebrity cannot fill the voids inherent in all of us.  We aren't made to be worshiped, but to worship. 

There is only one plan.  A.  Because I am fearfully and wonderfully made and my Creator knows exactly what I am made for.  I want to write.  That is pretty much all I want to do.  All I've ever wanted to do in terms of purpose.  I remember back in the early 80's when I had a brief stint as a bakery owner.  I make really good bread.  No doubt.  But my business landlord came by one day and picked up a copy of my first book, LISA, which I had on the counter.  He read it overnight and came back to the bakery the next day.

"Why would a person who writes like this make bread?"  he asked. 

Something in me tightened up.  Indeed.  Why?  Because I had three children who needed to eat, dance, play baseball, and learn piano.  I thought the business was a good idea.  (Turns out it wasn't.)  But the landlord's question was valid.  Why was I baking instead of writing?

Here is my answer after all these years.  I don't necessarily know where I am going.  Don't gasp.  If you are honest, you don't either.  God's Word is a lamp to my feet and a light upon my path.  It isn't a flood light that shows me the end of it all.  I am on a journey, like Abraham and Sarah as they took God at His word and went to......the place God would show them.  If we had the correct mindset about this very short life we have, we would be like a kid getting in the car for vacation with the family.  Daddy knows where we are going.  He is driving.  He and Mom know the way.  How long it will take.  The stops along the way.  The kid?  Rolls the window down, lets the breeze blow in her face, chews gum, plays road games, sleeps a little and gets out when she's there.  No stress in that journey.  Yeah, we might run out of gas.  A tire could go flat.  Mom might suggest we stop to see The World's Largest Ear of Corn that is five miles out of the way.  But the kid doesn't take this personally.  We are on a trip.  We expect some unexpected things to happen.

My Father just wants me to get in the car.  I may have preconceived ideas of where He should take me.  But if I think I can tell Him, Who knows my way, to turn left and right at my every command, I am mistaken and will be so frustrated with our journey.  Should I live my life with my Plan A ever before me, I might just miss the joy of His plan and the roadtrip to it.  The joyful singing in the car that goes along with the fun of being on a trip with my Father.  The childlike hilarity of the moment.  Freedom to die to expectations and feel the wind in my face.  My Father has the trip all planned and it is going to be exhilarating.  We just might not wind up where I thought.  We might not go to Disneyland just because our brother or sister went there with Him.  Our Father knows us so intimately He takes each of us on a different trek. 

So put on your seatbelt.  Roll down the window.  Enjoy the journey.  Yes, you will sacrifice your own plans.  But if God only has Plan A for you, you will squirm and complain the whole way through and never see the sights He has planned for the trip if you cling to your inferior Plan B.

PSALM 61 - What's In It For Me?

God, You have heard my vows.  You give me the inheritance of those who fear Your name
 (Vs. 5)

The Spirt Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, heirs also, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ.   Romans 8

I had only been born six years earlier when I made the decision to be born again.  To ask Jesus to come into my heart and mind.  To proclaim to Christ my love for Him, which I must say was about as great as six-year-old love can be.  Horrified in my little heart that He would bleed and die for my sins.  Amazed at His resurrection.  Astounded beyond belief at the prospect of heaven. 

There was so much I didn't know the day I asked Jesus into my heart.  There is much I still don't know lo, these many years later!  For instance, I didn't know I had come into the family of God with Jesus as a joint heir.  I wouldn't have even known what in the world you were talking about if we had had that conversation!  I was just a little kid, for Pete's sake!  All I knew was I loved Jesus with all my heart.  That is enough for little children.  But I am bigger now and my Father wants me to understand the depth of our relationship as a big girl.

I don't know why I am so tall.  No one else in my family is.  My sisters are a lovely average height, as were my parents.  Mother's uncles were taller.  Maybe that is where I inherited my length.  All three of us girls are shaped differently, too.  We have similarities, though.  Just as my children do.  Sharing characteristics we owe to our genes.  Looking something like each other.  Because we are family.

That is what happened when I was born anew, too.  Christ came to live inside of me by the Holy Spirit and I started looking and thinking differently.  Born of two families then - my earthly and my heavenly.  I have to say that when my earthly parents died there wasn't much of a monetary inheritance.  But I still carry what each gave me genetically.  Some of that is stuff I struggle with just like they did.  Some of it, though, was good.  I hope I kept that.  So what do I inherit as a child of God?  What is this inheritance He gives us who love and revere Him?

Salvation above all else.  I was bought by the blood of Christ out of slavery to a wicked master and brought into the household of God my Father.  That is enough, really.  Think sex trafficking or the slave trade.  I was bought as one who had no family.  Now all the riches of the universe are mine because they are my Father's.  (I just shouted...really)  But I also have the mind of Christ (1Corinthians 2),  the fruit of the Spirit (Ephesians), heaven (Revelation 21), brothers and sisters (Romans 8),  power over the enemy of my soul (1 John 4), and, most stunningly to me, a Father Who watches over my every thought and takes my hand to lead me through this crazy, difficult world.

I want to look like Him.  I want those eyes that warm to the needs of others.  The arms reaching out to lend support.  Tears that fall with the mourning.  Hearty laughter with those who rejoice.  Wisdom for circumstances that present a maze we cannot master without it.  Mercy that triumphs over any judgments I might make.  Anger only at the injustices meted out to others or directed at my Father.  My children look more and more like me and Bill as they grow older.  That Farish thing makes them act more like us, too.  But because they are a blend of families, they also have their own characteristics that set them apart.  Make then so uniquely and gloriously themselves.  My Father allows that room in me, too.  Not a puppet, I am fearfully and wonderfully made to accomplish His amazing will in me.  I get to be me!  Filled with Him!

Now I know more about my adoption than I did when I was six.  I know Whose family I come from and what my Father expects.  I know His character.  I understand the rules.  Because I am a big girl now who can walk hand in hand with her Father and talk about the things that move His heart.  And when I receive my final reward, because Jesus died so that I could have it, I will have an eternity to bask in the wonders of the inheritance He paid so dearly to assure I receive. 

"Now God's presence is with people, and he will live with them, and they will be His people.  God Himself will be with them and He will be their God.  He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death, sadness, crying or pain because all the old ways are gone."
The One on the throne said: "It is finished.  I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End.  I will give free water from the spring of life to anyone who is thirsty.  Those who win the victory will inherit all of this, and I will be their God and they will be my children."
Revelation 21
 

PSALM 61 - Kibbutzing With God

For You have been my refuge.  A strong tower against my enemy.  Let me dwell in Your tent forever!  Let me take refuge under the shelter of Your wings!  (Vs. 3-4)

My grandson, Nicholas, came with his darling brother and beautiful mother to visit in August.  We usually have the privilege of their company for at least a couple of weeks, so they all just move in for  a while.  We spend our days at the beach or in the pool, traveling to the San Diego Zoo, Legoland, or Disneyland.  Something fun.  We went whale watching and saw a blue whale this year.  The whole family went to Catalina to celebrate Heather's and my joint birthday.  We took the big boat over and then the boys parasailed with their mom.  Their visits are wild, crazy, eat-too-much -- play-too-much fun!

Heather and Nick were selling their house at the time.  Looking for another place to live.  And Nicholas was hatching a plan of his own.

"Grandmommy, how big is the bed upstairs?"  he asked as we walked to the beach one morning.

"It's a king sized bed.  Why?"  I asked.

"Well, that would work," he responded, joy all over his face.  "That's where Mommy and Daddy can sleep."

"Hmm..."  my brilliant rejoinder.

"And Alexander and I can put our bunk beds in the downstairs room where you and Granddaddy work."  A perfect plan.

"You mean, when you move in with us?"  I asked.  I'm seeing where he's going with this.

"Yeah," he said as if relieved that I finally understood the master plan.  "We could park the U-haul beside the house in one of those parking spaces."

You see, we love each other.  We want to be together all the time.  To Nicholas, that is the perfect solution.  Kibbutzing with his grandparents at the beach.  What could be better than living constantly in an environment where you are loved and listened to not only by your parents, but Aunt Vanessa and Uncle Will and adoring Grandmommy and Granddaddy?  Embraced, read to, played with, walked with and talked to, encouraged, fed, and prayed for.  Paradise, right?

The tabernacle was a traveling tent where the present of God dwelt in powerful light.  He lived with them in the Holy of Holies, glowing behind the veil.  Moses spoke to Him there -- friend to friend.  Priests approached His presence once a year to plead for the forgiveness of sin.  It was God's way of dwelling with man -- His purpose from the beginning and for eternity.  So to dwell in His tent forever should be our highest goal.  To move in with Him.  Bring our bunkbeds and our clothes and be with the One Who loves us more than we could ever know here on this flawed and yawing earth.  There to experience safety and joy, eating and laughing, walking through fields of unimaginable hue, singing songs with choirs of thousands and thousands, and swimming in the crystal river that flows from the throne of God.  What a house! 

Nicholas loves us.  Knows he is loved by us.  That stays fresh across the miles and miles that separate us most of the time.  It is special to be with each other.  We all can't wait for the hugs and smiles!  No fear of being together.  No wondering if grandparents really want you at their home.  Nicholas knows we are here with open arms to love on him because there is no one like him anywhere!  Our shelter is always going to be his and, believe me, he and Alexander are under my wing every chance I get to hold them close. 

So it is with my Father.  Preparing a place for me there.  Teaching me to love Him here.  To trust that perfect love has no fear in it.  No consternation about my final destination.  I will need no U-haul or a suitcase.  My Father even has my clothes ready for me.  And, like Nicholas, though I am here and my Father is there,  His love for me sustains and keeps me because I know Him.  I don't question if He is happy when we are together.  He is!  And someday.....I will live at His house forever.

Then the angel showed me the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month....the throne of God and the Lamb will be in the city, and His servants will worship Him.  They will see His face...
Revelation 22

PSALM 61 - From The Ends Of The Earth

Hear my cry, O God.  Listen to my prayer.  From the ends of the earth I call to You when my heart is afraid.  Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.   (Vs. 1-2)

I love you, O Lord, my strength.  The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in Whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
Psalm 18

We landed in Phnom Penh and were greeted by armed guards at the airport.  They were walking about with guns on their shoulders.  I have to admit it was intimidating.  Our group fell quiet as we passed them.  Out on the streets the scene was very different.  Every vein was crowded with people in all sorts of vehicles, each filled to the brim with passengers.  Bicycles with three or four people straddling them, motos carrying entire families, or old trucks bearing workers returning from their jobs in the fields crowded against the missionary van in which we were riding.  Vendors carried their ten or twelve chickens upside down and strapped to their bikes by their feet.  Kids were running everywhere in every direction.  And I fell in love.  With a country on the other side of the world.

The orphanages we traveled to visit were in the outlying, rural areas of Cambodia although there was a very large one in Phnom Penh.  Street children, orphaned by AIDS and malaria, or left to fend for themselves because there was not enough for parents and children, roamed the metropolitan areas in droves.  These children had become the focus for Foursquare Children of Promise almost by accident. But now new orphanages are springing up all over the country as safe havens for children and widows. 

Our local church bought a field and planted rice for the children.  Near the rice field Foursquare Children of Promise built a new orphanage, and it was there our group headed.  We boarded a bus early in the morning and traveled down deeply rutted dirt roads for several hours until we arrived in Battambang, the third largest city in Cambodia.  The city square was filled with vendors who had erected pop-ups all over the hard dirt streets.  We were taken to the nicest hotel in town - a pink brothel with questionable sheets and wet towels.  Prostitutes were gathered around the sparse lobby, and I have never wished so much that I could speak Khmer.  The loneliness in their eyes as theirs searched mine was so deep.  I touched them and smiled, but I wanted to hear their stories.  Share my Jesus.  Because I knew this brothel was their pitiful salvation from the streets. 

In the morning we stood in the back of a pick-up truck for an hour and a half to get to the rice mill orphanage which had opened only days before our arrival.  The trip was probably only thirty minutes or so, but the roads were almost impassable because of the recent rains.  There on the porch were ten or twelve children waiting for us.  Still in their ragged, filthy street clothes and as yet unwashed from their lives on street corners were two little girls I still call my own.  As we walked up, my eyes met theirs.  They were eleven years old.  Abandoned and now saved.  And they were beautiful.  We spent the day with them, fixing their hair,  polishing their dirty fingernails, and holding them.  The home they now lived in had tile flooring and an outdoor restroom tiled and clean.  Rescue gave them a safe place.  A haven from the sex traffickers and the elements. 

The next day, they all had baths.  We didn't clean them.  The house widows, taken in because they, too, had no place to go, were given five children each to care for.  While they were bathing we bought them school clothes, bath towels, shoes and other necessities.  Shining and ecstatic, the children wondered at their new home.  Told by the house pastor and his wife how much God loves them.  Assured by those words that they were no longer fatherless because God had taken them in, these children lifted their hands and their voices in song.  A new one they had just learned.  And they looked up to heaven as they sang.  Loving their new Father with such ardor - only those who know how great a refuge He is can sing that way.

From the ends of the earth.  He hears our cries and rescues us.  My Father is their Father.  My Rock is their Rock.  My deliverer, my fortress, my shield, and my salvation is their hope, too.  Our cries reach His ears.  Our needs reach His heart...everywhere. 

A year later, we went back.  The daughters of my heart were strong little oaks by then.  They had begun to take responsibility for the younger children who came in.  Because they understood more deeply the love of their Father than they had the year before, their worship and praise was based upon their experiences with Him Who answered prayers for healings, heartbreaks and safety.  Stunning how real He was allowed to be in that place.  Answering the prayers of the most vulnerable of His kids.  At the other end of the earth.

PSALM 60 - Have A Bravery Deficiency?

Through God we shall do valiantly, and it is He Who will tread down our adversaries. (Vs. 12)

With Your help I can attack an army.  With God's help I can jump over a wall.  Psalm 18

Not feeling particularly brave today?  Me, either.  And there are things in my life that need to be handled valiantly - with strength and wisdom.  I know people this day who are mourning - freshly alone.  A  vacant pillow on the bed beside him or her.  Friends struggle with cancer - numbed by its treachery.  A young person abandoned esssentially by both parents.  A couple in dire financial straits.  All of us need a savior.  The one on the white horse who comes in to whisk us away to safety.

I don't know that valiance always brings the kind of victory we are hoping for.  By definition it means we aren't cowardly.  We face with exceeding strength those things not easily borne.  And let's face it, that is really hard to do.  To stand up to cancer and bear its horrors with a perseverance and grace that says,  "You may conquer my body, but you cannot have my soul."  To be in the midst of battle, knowing it might not come out well, but fighting to the end with an undaunted courage that stirs those in battle with you.  To do valiantly is to fight against the odds.

Mother comes to mind.  Cancer was ravaging her body when my father was arrested in 1985.  The horrifying news of his molestation of a child slapped her a second time with an intensity that would have made a lesser woman collapse.  That she could pick him up from jail was miraculous.  That afterward she took him back to church to seek deliverance and peace was over and above the call of duty.  Sick in both body and soul, Mother still called out to her Father.  Found the courage to endure both the sight of my father and the nausea of her disease.  Here was her hope as I visited her once a week during the long eight months between his arrest and her death in August of that year.  Heaven.  The ultimate victory over all the world had thrown at her through the years.  I didn't know until our visits all she had gone through, not only with my father of late but over the years of their marriage.  And before, a first marriage to a man who beat and abused her.  A confusion in her about whether or not she had missed her destiny.   But one thing she was sure of -- Jesus. 

Over the months, Jesus became her one mainstay.  Husband now essentially gone in terms of support.  Mother and I talked for hours about what heaven would be like.  It was an unknown to her and she was a little daunted by the thought of going "home."  The process.  I asked her to let me know if it was at all possible that she arrived safely, like when we went on trips and called to say we made it.  Both of us chuckled at that.  Thinking it just a silly hope.

The day of her funeral I was sitting on her back porch.  Others took over her kitchen and I couldn't stand seeing it without her multi-tasking there.  The day was scorching.  Texas in August.  But it felt good to take deep breaths away from Daddy and the luncheon ladies.  I took off my shoes and put my feet up on the redwood ottoman.  Deep breaths.  I looked up at the bright blue sky and there she was!  Her face floating in iridescent splendor before me.  Eyes so bright they glowed.  And a beaming smile I can't even adequately describe.   "It's all right, Precious."  She cooed.  "It's all right."  She hung there in the air for a moment longer and was gone. 

She beat them - both.  The cancer and the heartache.  Sometimes to be valiant in a fight looks differently to us than to our God.  Like Braveheart and the Gladiator, sometimes our bravery leads to something bigger.  A greater cause.  Sometimes we conquer here.  Get through it and rejoice.  Sometimes we go around it.  But, with His help, we leap the walls that close in around us.  With His strength we do exploits uncommon to ordinary men and women.  Knowing we are not capable of the battle without Jesus.  And in the end, we join the One Who trampled even the last great enemy, death, so we could live forever.   The same Spirit Who raised Him from the dead lives in us (Romans 8).  So let's live valiantly today knowing it is He Who conquers today.....and forever.

PSALM 60 - The Walls Come A-tumblin' Down

Who will bring me to the strong walled city?  Who will lead me to Edom?   God, surely You have rejected us.  You do not go out with our armies. 
Help us fight the enemy!  Human help is useless.    (vs. 9-11a)

What is your Edom?  Your stronghold?  Is there something (or someone) you fight against and cannot seem to conquer?  Edom had been the enemy of Israel since they gained the Promised Land with Joshua.  On and off.  Rearing its ugly head to subvert, attack and sieze the land assured to them by God.  Remember how the children of Israel took the Beautiful Land?  The Lord's instructions to Joshua were to have armed men precede seven priests carrying seven shofars.  The priests were followed by the ark of the covenant and then the rear guard followed by the Israelites.  God's words to Joshua:  See!  I have given Jericho into your hand, with its king and the valiant warriors."

Joshua did as God commanded.  Marched around the city one time a day for six days. Joshua further commanded the people to not say a word.  Nothing.  Nada. Until he told them to shout.  That wasn't part of God's command, but it was very wise.  Just think of the things they would've been saying to each other.  "This is crazy!"  "A waste of time!"  "I don't trust this guy to lead us.  He isn't Moses by any stretch!"  Etc.

Jericho's walls are doubly fortified as they watch the craziness of a million people circling their city blowing shofars and carrying a box precariously set upon poles.  It looked like a massive funeral dirge.  By the seventh day, I can only imagine how freaked the residents of the city must've been.  The seventh day.  Watching the people march around them this day seven times.  Around and around in ominous silence but for the trumpeting.  The last time around, the Israelites stop.  The priests sound an alarm on their horns.  A great shout shakes the earth.  And the walls of Jericho fall flat!  God took the city for His people.

I think I could reasonably say God didn't go out with their army in defeating the enemy.  More to the point:   God was their army.  Maybe our confusion is that we want our God to fight our way.  This is what I am going to do, so God come with me.  When He lags back (because we put Him back there in the rear guard), we think He has deserted us.  The Almighty is not inclined to follow us.  And with good reason.  He actually knows the way.  We shoot in the dark on our best days.  Prostrate and crying out for His plan is a much better choice.  Human help is worthless if we are going in the wrong direction.  I need my God to show the way.  To make the walls fall down.  To receive what He has promised me.  Here's the exciting thing about that.  He is probably going to accomplish His will for me some crazy way I wouldn't have even thought of!  I can count of His NOT doing it my way.  That is pretty exciting in a nail-biting kind of way.

My guess is that the children of Israel were as surprised as the people of Jericho when the walls came tumblin' down.   A million people scratching their heads and saying, "Really?  All we did was shout!" ....and shut up.  No chance to grumble and complain and wreak havoc on their own destiny by diminishing their faith.  Just do it.  What God told them to.  Even if they just knew it wouldn't work.  Even if they thought it was the stupidest plan ever.  It seems the Father loves to confound the wise.  No major military plan for conquering the Beautiful Land.  Just obedience.  Are you uncomfortable yet?  I am.

"For I know the plans I have for you -- plans for welfare and not calamity -- to give you a future and a hope.  Then you will call upon Me and come and pray to Me and I will listen.  You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart.  And I will be found by you."   God.      Jeremiah 29

PSALM 60 - Precious To The Lord

God has spoken in His sanctuary:  "I will triumph!"  Verse 6

'Nuf said?

This morning I read about a group of Nigerian college students who were murdered for their faith.  Killed execution style as they were taken in late-night raids from their dorms.   All I could think was, "Oh, Jesus."  My stomach knotted.  The faith of these young Christians in a predominantly Muslim country cost them everything.  Well, everything here.  "To die is gain."  I must remember that.  "Precious to the Lord is the death of His saints."  They are home at this very moment, looking at His face.  Complete and completely happy.  The sting of death gone for them.  But what of those who shot them? 

Jesus was taken, too.  In the middle of the night.  Singled out by the religious leaders as the rabble rouser and charlatan who was deserving of death.  The purity of His life denied.  Called a son of the devil.  Defiling Himself by eating with sinners and saving adultresses from certain death.  Accused of having miraculous powers from Satan.  The lynch mob of self-righteous souls murdered Him in broad daylight the next day.  Feeling good about it, too.  Finally got the blasphemer out of the way.

Jesus understood death in a way they couldn't possibly have imagined.  Knew the pathway from here to there and back again.  Took control.  Gave up His spirit before it was taken from Him.  Then on Sunday morning came out of the tomb, back from the realm of the dead, in a new body - more spirit than flesh.  Triumphing over the grave.

Isn't that really the final victory for us who know Christ?  The last thing Satan can rob us of is this mortal flesh that becomes dust again anyway?  We are alive forever.  For our Father our deaths are our homegoing.  A time to celebrate in the heavenlies our arrival at the place prepared for us.  The joyful reunion of our spirits with His.  Our new bodies.  A new agenda.  Beauty beyond fathoming here.  Fruits in abundance.  A mighty river teeming with life.  Thundering praise and echoing orchestras of exaltation around the throne of God Almighty.  The touch of Jesus finally on all that was broken here.  Knowing Him as He has known us.  Hearing Him call our names.  Thanking Jesus for His sacrifice.   Becoming a forever person.  No more death.  No more tears.  No more abandonment, loss or fear.  No more enemy.  He is forever vanquished.  Can't touch us then.  We will have ultimate triumph!

I am going to take God at His word today.  He will triumph on earth and in heaven over everything that touches me.  For the Nigerian college students, that victory is now eternal.  For me today, it may be more carnal.  That I know of, there are no religious fanatics awaiting me at the office this morning with the intent of killing me. But the enemy of my soul lurks around every corner desiring to destroying any small or signficant progress I am intent on making.  To him I say:  "You lost!  You were stripped of all your power over me at the cross of Christ!"  

To my soul I say:  "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and don't lean on your own understanding.  In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths."

For everyone who has been born of God overcomes the world.  And this is the victory that has overcome the world -- our faith!  Who is it that overcomes the world except the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?   I John 4

 

PSALM 60 - Can You See The Exit?

You have raised a banner to gather those who fear You.  Now they can stand up against the enemy.  Answer us and save us by Your power so the  people You love (Your beloved) will be rescued.   (Verses 3-4)

I am my Beloved's and His desire is for me.  Song of Solomon 7:10

Set me as a seal upon Your heart -- as a seal upon Your arm, for love is as strong as death.
Song of Solomon 8:6

Remember running races in elementary school?  The teacher picked a captain and let the captain choose the team.  The fastest feet were chosen first and I, speed challenged, was picked dead last. Here is what I have to say about that:  I would've done the same thing if ever I had been selected as the captain (I never was).  I mean, who doesn't love to win, even if it hurts the feelings of the slow or chubby.  Contests are all about the prize.  Not about who gets left out.  Right?

Have you ever noticed, though, how diverse are those whom God picks for His team?  It's not all about our personal arsenal of abs and pecs, our swiftness or slowness, or our leadership abilities.  His team is made up of the best and worst of us.  The addicts and alcoholics as well as the MIT grads and doctors.  The well-bred and the down-and-outers.  God is already so mighty He doesn't need our prowess to conquer.  He owns everything, so we don't have anything to give to Him.  He doesn't need us for anything.   Our God chooses to love His people.  His beloved children.  Nothing we can do can change His mind about us once we belong to Him.  God swore an oath to us who know His Son.  He keeps His word.

But that doesn't mean we aren't in battle with the enemy whose aim it is to destroy us.  Satan draws us into conflict at every turn.  Confused, we run this way and that, caught like a mouse in a maze.   Looking for the way out, we often get deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of lies until we fear we won't ever find the exit.  Then suddenly a banner is raised.  High above the walls of our prison.  We see it wave in the breeze signaling the egress.  Our hearts flutter and adrenalin rushes.  "The way out!" we cry.   Staying close to the middle of the maze's walkway, we keep our eyes fixed on the banner of our salvation.  We go where it goes, running to gather beneath it at our escape.  Victory is ours, then, as long as we huddle near the One Who has led us to safety.  Our King has gotten us out of deep trouble.  No temptation has overtaken you but that which is common to all.  God is faithful and will not let you be tempted beyond your ability.  But with the temptation He will also provide a way of escape that you may be able to endure it.  1 Corinthians 10.

Why does God bother?  In His global, even universal, work day, how is it that He could or would find time to mess with our mazes?  I have heard over and over again from well meaning people that they don't trouble God with stuff that isn't cancer or some other very traumatic prayer because, after all, God is busy.  What is missing from that scenario is the knowledge that God is crazy about us!  Absolutely smitten with His beloved children!  Will just not let things go too far before He swoops in to redeem us from the trial.  The Lord has set His seal on us.  The Holy Spirit.  The first fruit of things to come.  We are His!  Warts and all.  Our Father has decided to love us with an everlasting love.  Craves our reciprocation of it.  If you think He will ever let the enemy permanently get the better of His children, think again.  The love of Christ for us is as strong as death.  His.

Do you see the banner waving over your puzzling path today?  It's in the hands of your Father as He leads you out of the hell you created or one that you walked unknowingly into.  He waves it to let you know you don't have to go more deeply into your pain if you will simply turn and run to safety.  Oh, your God will come and get you, never fear.  Even if you like your sin and want to stay a while longer, one day your God will declare He has had enough of the evil plan against you.  With banner high, your God will storm the gates of your hell, entering it Himself, and drag you back to Him.  Covered in the mire of your mess, He will clean you up, set you right, and fill your heart with a new song.  Not because you deserve it.  Anything but.  No.  Our rescue is the rescue of hero and princess.  Beloved and oppressed.  It is the story of romance so pure we cannot imagine our Beloved's desire to see us with Him.  The One who loves us sets the banner in the ground to commemorate our victory and establish the boundaries across which no one may enter.  It covers us, leads us, and declares to the enemy Whose we are.

His banner over me is love.  Song of Solomon 2:4



 

PSALM 60 - I Am Jenga

O God, You have rejected us, broken our defenses.
You have been angry.  O, restore us.
You have made the land to quake.  You have torn it open.
Repair its breaches, for it totters.
You have made Your people see hard things.
You have given us wine to drink that made us stagger.  (Verses 1-3)

Ever feel like God is playing spiritual Jenga with your life.  Block on block you have built a mini Tower of Babel, reaching toward the various goals you have set.  The problem with Jenga is that just one piece removed from the structure can make all of them collapse.  Or adding a piece on top of the structure can create a top-heaviness that ruins its equilibrium.  I am a Jenga block puzzle given to tottering.  Of course, I wouldn't fall over if I were structurally sound.  But, let's face it, I have put up defenses, built my life with many breaches, seen some hard things (done some bad stuff) and drunk the world's wine until I stagger from its headiness.   What to do?

I am thankful God doesn't just knock me down all at once and start over because I couldn't live through that.  He does, however, rebuild my faulty pipe dream piece by piece.  Refits the blocks in an order that can sustain further breaches or massive quaking. 

I was just talking this morning with a friend about how we build the defenses in our lives.  What makes us keep people or circumstances out or lets them in.  Have some of us been so battered that we hold up a hand against invasion because we cannot trust others?  Do we build walls that shouldn't be there or have we torn down some that should have stood the test of the battles?  All of the above. 

In the rebuilding process, though, I can attest to the fact that often God seems far away.  As if He has rejected us.  It is obvious why.  Even when our parents correctly disciplined us as kids, we didn't like them for a while.  Felt they had it in for us.  Because no discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful (Hebrews).   It works for us, though.  If we don't give up, we get stronger, lose weight, gain momentum and flourish. 

So maybe viewing myself as a lovely creation with some fundamental foundational flaws can help me to understand it better when God has to take a few of my blocks out of the middle and reorder them.  I can yell, "Ouch!"  Because it is uncomfortable.  But if I want to withstand the earthquakes, defend against attack, be fortified for the long term I have to let my God "tear open the earth" beneath me to see what is left.   Brick by brick and block by block, when He is finished with the repair job, I'm gonna be looking pretty good!  It will be evident then, that God never left me at all.  No rejection.  No abandonment.  I could only see Him that way because of all my foundational damage.  When the trembling begins,  I will totter less.  I will pass up the liquor that made me licentious for the elixir that makes me joyful.  My boundaries will let only those in and out who will not damage my walls or breach my confidences. 

I will be the most frustrating Jenga in the land!

PSALM 59 - Dangling From the Edge?

But I will sing of Your strength, in the morning I will sing of Your love, for You are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble.

Oh, my Strength, I sing praise to You.  You, Oh God, are my fortress, my loving God.
 (Vs. 16-17)

Weeping may remain for a night, but joy comes in the morning.  Psalm 30

We were at the lake.  Having fun jumping off the platform built several feet from the shore.  I was six or seven years old.  Hadn't been swimming all that long.  My father was enjoying the lake water on a typically hot day in Texas, too.  I had only swum in swimming pool water until this one day.  Overly confident, I didn't know anything about the swirling dangers of rip currents in natural water.  So, I was surprised when, after jumping off the platform for the hundredth time, I was pulled under by what felt like the whirlpool water makes as it drains out of the bathtub.  Like a fishing bob, I kept popping back to the surface, but then back under I would go.  Out of control.  Going deeper each time. Staying under longer.  My little heart beat so fast.  I knew I would die if someone didn't see me.  I can't remember if I called out for help.  I think I might've.  But my father was watching.  Reached out his hand and pulled me to his chest.  Safe!  Thankful. 

Will, our son, was only about three when we sat down to dinner one evening.  A favorite meal for my children was hot dogs and chili.  Mealtime at our house was, and still is, family time.  We talk about everything.   Laugh or argue.  It's always animated.  Will's sisters are seven and nine years older than he, so in those days he often got lost in the back and forth of conversation.  That's why it took a minute for me to notice his bulging eyes and terrified look as he patted my arm.  He was choking!  Hot dog lodged in his throat.  I reached over and stuck my finger down his throat, and patted his back.  The piece of hot dog traveled on down to its proper place and Will took a much-needed breath.

"Thank you, Mommy!" he cried.  Tears streamed down his grateful face as he came to sit in my lap and relish being alive.  He was still thanking me at bedtime.  He thought he was going to die.

We have all plunged over the ledge sometime or other and, with our fingernails, hung on to life.  Dangling over the edge not daring to look down at the lengths to which we will fall if Superman, Spiderman, Thor or Bruce Willis doesn't proffer a hand.  It is just that ridiculous that we should be saved because the odds are stacked against us and we are losing our grip.  Of course, our super-heroes are nowhere to be found.  We are not in a movie but in reality.  And, like David in this psalm, we need God to meet us before we forever fall.  Sweating it out.  Calling His name.  "Wake up, God, and help me!   See me dangling helpless in this mess!"  The enemy ever-closer to finding us and stepping hard on our hands to plunge us into an abyss.

Because He hears the call and, more importantly, because He loves us, He comes right before dawn and reaches out His right hand, grabs us by our wrist, and pulls us up to safety.  Just in time.  Safe!  Relief so deep we shake.  Maybe even cry a little.  As the morning light peeks over the horizon and a new day dawns for us, we can still feel the pressure of His grasp.  Rub the arm He touched.  Joy rises with the new day and strums in our hearts a thankful song of praise to Him.  Can't believe how much He loves us.  Still in wonder that He heard and came. 

"For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you,  'Do not fear.  I will help you."  Isaiah 41

PSALM 59 - Lies and Shame

Lord, my Protector, do not kill them, or my people will forget.  With Your power scatter them and defeat them. They sin by what they say.  They sin with their words.  They curse and tell lies, so let their pride trap them.  Destroy them in Your anger.  Destroy them completely!
Then they will know that God rules over Israel and to the ends of the earth.  (Vs. 11-13)

Liars hate the people they hurt.  Proverbs 26:28

"If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything."  Mark Twain

I have met three pathological liars in my lifetime.  I'm quite sure I have known more than three, but it takes a while to discover that a person's life is built on a house of cards.  It is necessary to form a relationship with another to discover them more deeply.  The shock of unearthing lies is that it redefines the other person and it makes a mockery of your trust.  The ability to believe anything he or she says thereafter vanishes.  Makes me want to check out everything I am told.  Too much work.  As a result, liars often go from relationship to relationship, friendship to friendship, job to job, because they use people up. 

The first time I read the proverb above, I was shocked.  Hate seems like such a strong word.  I had just been wounded by a liar.  Just begun recognizing her ability to con me at every turn.  I thought she was a dear friend.  Over countless hours I had listened to her troubles.  She had regaled me with stories of her past.  Taken my heart and my time.  Used me.  When it all unraveled, I felt dumb.  Gullible.  Exposed.  That is why Proverbs 26 calls liars haters.  It's like getting a birthday gift and when it is unwrapped discovering it to be empty.  And the giver laughs at how stupid I was to expect a substantive present.  You surely wouldn't even like someone you could humiliate like that.

Pride tells the liar he will not be caught.  He is charming and quick-witted.  A flatterer.  So he or she builds up the prey with smooth words, priming her for the kill.  "He is so nice.  He couldn't be lying to me."  The treachery is, obviously, the lied to has to separate the perceived person from the real.  By that time, much damage might have been done.  Standing alone and feeling beaten up, sometimes a whole life has to be remade.  That is hate.

"Trap them in their lies!" then is quite an appropriate prayer.  Why would anyone want another to experience the humiliation and defeat inherent in coming into contact with a liar?  If you have, as I have, you best not forget.  Honestly, it has made me vet my friends more closely.  Ask better questions of the new people I meet.  I don't want to forget how it was to be sucked into a liar's web.  It has also made me more conscious of my own lies.  I want God to immediately reprimand me for untruth.  I don't want Him to let me get away with falsehoods.

There is another kind of lying I have noticed lately that is perhaps more treacherous because it doesn't look, on the surface, like lying.  Keeping secrets.  Not so much the kind that involve a heart-to-heart with a friend.  But the kind that pride refuses to allow us to bring to light.  It can ruin families.  Destroy trust.  Shame is usually at the root of such secrets, and it will drive us to cover our transgressions to the death.  Lie about the abuse.  Pretend there was no first marriage.   Present a false self to our children out of fear they will not love the real.  Other pretense must necessarily follow.  Because the subterranean lie must never be revealed.  When exposed, however - and it will ultimately be exposed - shame is multiplied and trust is lost.  And standing in the midst of the fallen cards are husband, wife, children, close friends or co-workers bereft of you.  Feeling cheated and angry.

No wonder lying is the first thing on the list of things God hates.  It is false.  He is Truth.  It is my belief that shame is at the root of the liar's need to create a different self.  The real one isn't good enough.  It is the root of all addiction.  Our Father must understand that because Jesus took our shame, killed it on the cross, and threw it forever into the abyss of hell at His resurrection.  No need to carry it ourselves anymore.  It can not only be for given, but,also, forgotten...removed from us as far as the east is from the west (Psalm 103).  It doesn't have to hold us any longer.  Lying to cover it adds more layers of guilt and shame until the burden is almost too much to bear.....or, sometimes, is too much to live with. 

Continuing a life of pretense will ultimately bring destruction.  God wants truth - inward and outward.  He will judge it by one of two standards.  The law that says the sinner will die for his or her sins or by the new covenant that promises our adoption as sons and daughters of a Father Who has made us joint hiers with Christ, His Only Begotten Son.  A promise to us, sealed with the blood of Jesus, that our sins will be forgiven and remembered no more.  ...Looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, Who, for the joy set before Him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.   Hebrews 12:2


 

PSALM 59 - A Morning Prayer Answered

But You, O Lord, laugh at them.  You hold all the nations in derision.

O, my Strength, I will watch for You, for You, O God, are my fortress.
My God in His steadfast love will meet me.
God will let me look in triumph on my enemies.   (Vs. 8-10)

Maybe God laughs at those who mock His very existence because it is just so bleeding obvious that a Creator God made the universe.  Really.   Looking around at the beauty, understanding more and more every day about how the universe is ordered, or watching the sun rise and set should bespeak a creator.  A mind almost past comprehending that could create from nothing the vastness and variety of our world and beyond.  Of course, if there is a God of such magnitude and power, of such brilliance and creativity, then He must have made us, too.  Are we, therefore, obliged to acknowledge Him?  Perhaps not.  But to assume He isn't involved with us is ludicrous.  Go ahead and live as though He isn't listening, but He thinks that is hilarious.  Nations making plans and going forward with their worldly agendas doesn't stop God from His own plans for the world.  When those He created ignore Him, it is as ridiculous as the vase saying to the potter:  "You didn't make me." 

Here is what so speaks to me today about these verses, though.  I will watch, in expectant hope, for God to meet me when I need Him.  Others might believe He cannot hear them as they "bellow with their mouths" the lies and slander that so easily come flying from their hearts.  "Who's gonna hear us?" they laugh.  "God?"  But perhaps the most precious thing to me about my Father is that he does hear me.  He listens when I talk to Him.  Because He loves me, He meets together with me to talk about.....everything.  I watch for my God to meet me like my kids waited at the window for their Daddy to come home after work in the evenings.  With anticipation.  When He comes, we sit down to fellowship.  Like we did when we had dinner together as a family.  Close.  Intimate.  Safe. 

Today is such sweet example of God's love.  This has been a very tight week for us financially.  We knew we had to wait for a paycheck on Friday to get some groceries.  Not to feel sorry for us.  Just had some unusual bills that had to be paid last week.  On Wednesdays, I go to a meeting of real estate professionals.  A casual breakfast before we preview homes that have been newly listed.  The drive takes about thirty minutes.  It is my Wednesday prayer time.  Knowing there is a $50 drawing each Wednesday, my prayer today was that God allow me to win the drawing.  I never have before so it was a one in an I-don't-know-how-many chance....one hundred, maybe.  I did win it.  They drew my name.  His steadfast love met me in my car and He heard me.   On the way home I went to the grocery store to pick up what we needed, thankful for the money to do so.  Outside of the store stood a nearly toothless, very tan middle-aged homeless woman asking for donations.  I had eight dollars left, so I smiled and passed her by thinking,  "I only have eight dollars."  I didn't get to the car before the Lord challenged me.  Couldn't I bless her as I had been blessed earlier?  Got back out of the car and put a five dollar bill through the plastic slot of the woman's bucket.  Because, not only do Iwant to my Father to hear from me,  I want to hear from Him.

Those who choose to deny our God exists lose out on the joys of knowing Him.  He is an attentive Father, setting us on His knee and caring about what we care about.  Sure, I am responsible to this holy God, but He has promised to be responsible to me, also.  With His blood.  He made covenant with me. (Jeremiah 31)  I will live in this world answering to something or someone.  We all do.  To choose someone or something less than the One Who created me, is denying myself the best.  I would trade all the drugs, love affairs, power, money, fame, or any other thing the world has to offer me for this one thing: the ear of the All Mighty God, Who stoops down as a daddy does while listening to his tiny three-year-old tell him of her day.

You protect me with Your saving shield.  You support me with Your right hand.  You have stooped to make me great.  (italics mine)  2 Samuel 22

 

PSALM 59 - Putting Words Into Our Mouths

You are the Lord God All Powerful, the God of Israel. Arise and punish those people. Do not give those traitors mercy.

They come back at night.  Like dogs they growl and roam the city. Notice what comes from their mouths.  Insults come from their lips, because they say, "Who is listening?"
But Lord, You laugh at them.  You make fun of all of them.   (Vs. 5-8)

So here's the rest of yesterday's story.  David fled to the prophet, Samuel, who was in Ramah.  The two of them then went to Naioth where they stayed for a few days.  Saul, still crazy to kill David, sent some of his minions to capture his son-in-law and bring him back.  When the group got to Naioth, Samuel was standing in the midst of a group prophets and all of them were prophesying.  It was probably a loud group and the men didn't seem to be noticed as they approached the prophets.  What Saul's men didn't count on was the Spirit of God drifting their way, pulling them in, then speaking through them, also.  Prophesying soldiers.  Caught off-guard. Speaking words from the Mighty God.  You gotta know He smiled.

Saul, furious, sends another group of men to capture David.  Guess what?  Same thing happened.  They ended up crying out the words of God.  Third time being the charm, at least in theory, the king sent another battalion to bring in the nemesis.  You guessed it!  The Holy Spirit had words to put into their mouths, also.

If you want something done right, you just do it yourself.  So, Saul leaves the comforts of home to go get the scoundrel, David, himself.  He trudges to Ramah asking after prophet and shepherd.  Finds they have gone to Naioth and takes out in that direction.  He has barely begun his journey to Naioth when the Holy Spirit rushes upon him.  Prophecy pours out of his unwilling mouth.  He can't stop!  Walking and prophesying until he finds Samuel.  By then the king is overtaken with the Spirit.  So much so that he strips off his clothes and lies down naked before Samuel.  He can't be quiet.  All the rest of that day and all night, Saul lay exposed and overtaken, speaking the words of God. 

An interesting way to avenge David.  God didn't chop off his head or splay his insides for the dogs to lick.  That might have been more what David had in mind.  No.  God's vengeance was to strip Saul of his pride.  Make the king speak God's words.  Lay him flat for a while.  Don't you wonder what Saul thought when he came back to himself the next day.  Wondering why he was lying in the dusty street of Naioth naked?  Did he remember what he'd prophecied?  Was Samuel around?  What did David do?  We don't know from the story in 1 Samuel 19.  But we can all guess.  I think:  The mighty king of Israel woke up to find himself in a very humiliating situation.  Naked and dirty, he looked up to see Samuel, the one who had anointed Saul to be king, standing over him with a look of pity and disdain.  Oh, Saul could've been so much greater.  And Samuel was sorry for him.  But Saul's pretension and hubris had stripped him of his kingship just as surely as he was stripped of his dignity and clothing in the streets of Naioth.  Not much conversation between prophet and king.  I think Samuel handed him his clothing, pointed to his own lodgings, and told him to get dressed and go home.  I mean, what is there left to say when God Himself levels a person?

Saul got carried away with his own sense of power and importance.  Forgot who God is because he could only think of himself.  Didn't remember the Mighty God, who chose Saul as king in the first place, is watching over His people.  And looking at Saul.  Listening to the threats against the Lord's beloved David.  "Who's listening?"  God.  And we better believe it.

Did God laugh at Saul?  I don't think He was on His throne knee-slapping over the blathering naked king writhing in the midst of a dirty sidestreet.   But I do think the irony was amusing to Him.  "Saul, do you really think you can get away with your evil plans against David without My intervention?" That would be God's question.  Answer.  Absolutely not.  God didn't kill Saul.  Just his pride.  Divested him for an evening of his pomp and swagger.  Naked and shouting the plans and promises of God to a small town in Ramah.  Made Saul get up the next morning in shame, in need of clothing and dignity. 

As mean as this story sounds, perhaps, God did show mercy to Saul.  The punishment wasn't tit for tat.  Saul originally lost the throne because he took over the sacrifices that only the priest should do.  Couldn't wait for Samuel because the prophet was taking too long to arrive.  So, Saul did it his way.  Not God's.  That wasn't and isn't what the Lord is looking for.  Someone who does her own thing no matter what He says.  Seems like ultimately dethroned taught Saul nothing.  He was going to change that, too.  If he killed the future king - David - he might just save the throne for himself and his kids.  Like God didn't know what Saul was thinking.  God was listening and watching.  Saul's pride made him forget where he came from.  Who made him king in the first place.  Whose plan he was fulfilling.  Reduced Saul to a kid sneaking out at night to do the thing his parents won't allow. 

The unfortunate thing is that Saul didn't learn from this public humiliation.  Forgot it quickly because his own selfish agenda drove him on.  He could've changed.  While he was vulnerable, Saul could've cried out to the God of Mercy and been forgiven - changed.  Even though this psalm pleads for God to laugh at the howling dog that Saul had become, God went for the heart instead of the crown.  Showed the king that He can still overtake us without killing us.  It tells me that God will be as merciful as we allow Him to be in this struggle between our agenda and his.  Unfortunately for Saul,  he never gave up.  His heart ever harder toward David.  His kingdom ever further from his grasp. 

The Lord surely doesn't want our love for Him to be motivated by shame.  His greatest desire is for reciprocal love.  He patiently waits and works as gently as we allow Him to in order to bring us to repentance.

But God is patient with you.  He does not anyone to be lost, but He wants all people to change their hearts and lives.  2 Peter 3