PSALM 113 - God Does It His Way..

He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap, to make them sit with princes of His people. He gives the barren woman a home, making her the joyous mother of children. Praise the Lord!  (Verses 7-9)

He does not withdraw His eyes from the righteous.  Job 36

Pol Pot destroyed twenty-five percent of the Cambodian population in the killing fields of the mid- seventies. In order to establish a peasant society easily controlled by his Khmer Rouge, the educators, doctors, lawyers and business owners were slain either by overwork, execution or starvation. Pol Pot called this his Super Great Leap Forward, an echo of Mao Zedong's Cultural Revolution called the Great Leap Forward. All of Cambodia's cities were forcefully evacuated, foreigners expelled, embassies closed and foreign assistance refused. Newspapers and television stations were shut down, bicycles and radios confiscated in an effort to strip the people of any outside contact. The nation, disbursed, was then coerced into slave labor. "What is rotten must be removed," declared Pol Pot as he executed at least 1.5 million people. The nation has never fully recovered from those years. Land mines still dot the countryside. In the eighties, ninety-percent of the people lived in poverty. They have crawled out of that scenario, but remnants remain. Phnom Penh is home to a vast garbage heap where children play as their family digs through the garbage for food or items to sell. The smell is rancid, the children filthy, their life seemingly hopeless.

A young farmer was sent as a rice expert to Laos, married a Laotian princess, and settled back in the states to live a quiet agrarian life and pastor. But God planted a seed in their hearts. Talked to the couple about Southeast Asia and His concerns for  what He saw there. God had a plan. They were to execute it. So they packed up and moved to Cambodia, thinking they would preach the gospel, maybe. Establish a church. But after six months, the couple was still wondering what the call from God could mean. No church yet. Thinking they'd go back to the States. Farm again. The quiet life. Then a thing happened. A young man was kidnapped. Held for ransom. A prayer meeting was held in which they asked God for help in bringing the young man home. A headstrong woman who didn't know God said she'd ride a motorcycle alone to the drop-off place. She wasn't afraid. It was the stipulation. A woman must come alone. The woman owned a motorcycle repair shop. Tough as nails. She got on her motorcycle and started away. Fear stopped her. An intuition that she needed more than her own gumption. So she returned to the prayer group the missionary couple led. "I can't go there if you don't pray for me." The headstrong prayed over. Now ready. A new Christian on a journey of rescue. When she returned safely with the young man, she also returned a new person. Noticed by everyone around for the change in her life. And then another thing happened. A mother who'd heard this woman was now a Christian brought her infant child to her. "I can't keep her," the young mother cried. "You are now a Christian. You must take care of her." Not possible. So, the lady took the child to the missionary couple. "Here."

Now orphanages dot the countryside in Cambodia. Widows who would otherwise be begging on the streets are given a home, food to eat and children to care for. All the idea of a God Whose eyes don't leave those He loves--widows and orphans in particular. And in the process God reveals His love through Jesus to those who have borne, and still bear, such grief. I love that the Father tapped a son and daughter of His on the shoulder and said, "Go." To a place He could see needed them. Then didn't do what they expected Him to. All because God saw children in need of mothers and the barren in need of children.

This I have seen with my own eyes. I have touched the precious hands of the Cambodian children, braided their hair and danced in their orphanages. I've watched with tearful wonder as they lift their hands in praise to the Father Who rescued them. Many are grown now, participating in their churches and giving to their communities. They are loved and purposeful. And serve other orphans and widows. Indeed our Father raises us from the dust, takes us from the ash heap and makes us royalty. Children of the King of Kings. Only our God could devise a plan so revolutionary and unique. He never closes His eyes to evil. He always brings redemption. And always in an unusual way. The God of the unexpected. He makes a thing happen that changes an entire country. Or one little life.
 

PSALM 113 - HERE'S LOOKING AT YOU, KID...

The Lord is high above all nations, and His glory above the heavens! Who is like the Lord our God, Who is seated on high, Who looks far down on the heavens and the earth? (Verses 4-6)

For the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth to give strong support to those whose heart is blameless toward Him.  2 Chronicles 16:9

For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and His ears are open to their prayer. 1 Peter 3

We were newly married and at the park with our good friends, Ron and Barbara. Acting like the kids we still were, we swung on the swings, barreled down the slides and chased each other all over the green grass. Suddenly, Bill, my husband, put his hand to his left eye. Then up to his right. "I've lost my contact lens," he said despairingly." Oh, great. Where?

"Let's look for it," I offered without much more than newlywed naivete that everything will work out because, well,  it's us! Down on our hands and knees, Bill and I searched. I took my position near the swings. Peered into the long blades of green as if looking down from on high into the rain forest or some other messy jungle. And there it was, shining in the sun. Glowing for me as if it had been struck by a sunbeam for me to see. Obvious, even. "I found it!" I screamed with earth shattering glee. I won the day. Heroine of that particular story. I saw what others missed.

Several years later, I lost my wedding ring. Looked all over for it. Made myself an hour late to work, but still could not figure out what I did with it. Hesitantly, of course, I called Bill to tell him what I'd done. I'd forgotten in my rush to get me and our three kids off to school that I'd cleaned the ring that morning. Wrapped it in a towel to dry it. I couldn't remember what happened next, but I had the sneaking suspicion my ring was in the garbage. Told Bill he might want to look there, but feeling also like it could be somewhere in the sewage system of Riverside, Ca. All day bothered by the ridiculous folly with which I'd handled something so meaningful. Then the phone call from Bill. "I got it! I got it!" he was screaming over the phone. "I found your ring!" In the garbage outside. Don't make me explain.

God is looking for us that way. From His vantage point high above everything, He's peering past the stars, gazing through the vaporous clouds, rushing past mountains and oceans, zeroing in on His children. Something lights us up, like the contact lens in the dense grass, we sparkle and He comes in closer to find us. Like the lost wedding rings, He digs through the garbage to rescue us. We are just that precious to Him. And He doesn't rest until we are saved. Can you picture Him on His throne when an alarm is sounded? Our prayers. "Father, help us!" Like a mother awakened in the night to the sound of her crying child, the Lord stands up, alerted. Never mind that He is outside of our known universe, greater than the sum of all of it, managing galaxies and worlds we cannot even fathom. A child of His cried out. So He looks--everywhere--for the beacon that our prayers become. And if we were as cognizant as we should be, we soon sense our Father's face looking closely into ours. Large as my face would look to the contact lens had it the ability to actually see. Tiny me. Big God. His face in mine. "I heard you. What is it you need?" And all of this took less than a second. The moment my prayer left my lips, He'd careened past all perceived obstacles to check on my well being. Not because I have my own righteousness to commend me to Him, but because, through Jesus, I'm His kid. We light up the universe like all the electric bulbs in Vegas set it aglow to such a degree it can be seen from outer space. God can't get far enough away that He's not looking at us.

Who is like our God? No one. The God of the Bible is personal. Relational. Intentional. Involved with world events. Keeping the heavens in place. Yet, walking our roads and eating our food and dying our deaths. Yearning for our love. Jealous over our hearts. Vengeful when we are abused. Shepherding us when we're lost. Attentive to our prayers. Our Father, Who is in heaven, yet only a heartbeat away.

PSALM 113 - A Loaf of Bread, A Jug of Wine and Thou

Praise the Lord!  Praise, O servants of the Lord, praise the name of the Lord! Blessed be the name of the Lord from this time forth and forevermore! From the rising of the sun to its setting, the name of the Lord is to be praised!  (Verses 1-3)

And when they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.  Matthew 26:30

Passover. The solemn celebration of the angel of death passing over the children of Israel when God's hand struck the Egyptians with the final plague before the Israelites were allowed out of captivity. The joyful celebration of deliverance from slavery. A reflection on the miracles of a mighty God so engaged with and so faithful to His people that He used the nature He created and controls to force the hand of a mighty tyrant. The perfect lamb, slaughtered, its blood smeared on the doorposts of each of the homes of those trusting in the blood to hide them from the enemy who lurked in a deadly scourge over Egypt. And the holy hope of a Messiah, perfect, powerful--For unto us a child is born, to us a son is given. And the government shall be upon His shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of  peace there shall be no end (Isaiah 9). And each year the Hallel is sung. Psalm 113-118. And so it begins with "Praise the Lord! Forever and ever all day and night! Praise Him!"

Jesus reclined at dinner with the disciples the night of His arrest sharing the Passover meal with them. Their Counselor and confidant. Their leader and Prince. The exact representation of the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father. Who'd calmed the seas once again with a word from His mouth. Who'd rescued the sick and delivered those enslaved by demons. Who'd fed the crowds once more in the wilderness. Made food from nothing. Manna of a different kind. From two fish and five loaves of bread. Jesus spoke a new covenant of love and power. Written this time on hearts, not stones. The Child of Isaiah's prophecy, the God of the Passover Hallel, now sitting as the Lamb of Passover with His closest friends. Now as they were eating, Jesus took the bread and after blessing it broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, "Take, eat. This is my body." And He took a cup, and when He had given thanks, He gave it to them, saying, "Drink of it, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you I will not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in My Father's kingdom." (Matthew 26).

And then they sang this hymn. As they did every Passover. And it began, "Praise the Lord, O His servants!" I'm wondering what went through the mind of Jesus as this took place. In the hours before He fulfilled the hope of Passover to become Messiah, murdered in a cleansing bloodbath outside of Jerusalem, naked and spat upon, the Mighty God of All. The songs of Hallel they'd all sung from their youth. In remembrance of God's mighty deeds. Jesus the very voice that commanded them to be--Frogs, come forth! Rivers, turn to blood! Locusts, come from every direction! Hearing in the melodies and feeling in the lyrics the funeral dirge offered up as praise. Jesus understood what He'd known centuries before in Egypt...there was to be another Lamb. The disciples were lifting their voices to God, thankful for the Passover deliverance, the taste of seder wine still fresh in their mouths. "This is my blood." Sealing a new covenant. Ending forever the need for a perfect little lamb to bleed forgiveness over Israel. Opening up the gateway for entrance into the Father's house--an eternal promised land. The nations between us and home, toppled in the war between our enemy and our Mighty God as the blood of Jesus vanquished the prince of the power of the air. No more Jerichos, no more marching around Mt. Sinai, nor more waiting for Moses to hear from God. The Lamb of God knocked down the door that separates us from the Eternal Father when He rose from the dead. "Come on in!" He cries. "I kicked that door down forever! This is your home now!"

Anticipating the victory, Jesus sang. It was still all before Him that night. The words He'd inspired the psalmists to write, He'd come to embody and fulfill. That one dark night in history. Separated from all the others, a dividing point in time. The Hallel written for such a day as this. It means praise. How fitting that Jesus should join those He loved in singing it together. How fitting that as Jesus sits now at the right hand of the throne of God to intercede for us, we lift our hands and shout from the rising of the sun to its going down, "The name of the Lord be praised!" And the promise? One day Jesus will hand me the bread, "This is my body, broken for you. Take. Eat." I will look into His face as He passes me the cup. "Drink all of it, daughter. This is the blood that bought your freedom." And there will be a twinkle in His eyes as the nectar of that wine sweetens my mouth while we celebrate together in our Father's kingdom.

PSALM 112 - Hanging By A Thread

The wicked man sees it and is angry. He gnashes his teeth and melts away. The desire of the wicked will perish.  (Verse 10)

Such are the paths of all who forget God. The hope of the godless shall perish. His confidence is severed, his trust is a spider's house. He leans against his house, but it doesn't stand. He lays hold of it but it doesn't endure.  Job (13-15)

The thing the wicked man sees is the righteous man's success. His steady heart. His trust in God that can't be moved. The ultimate victory of the one God loves over the adversary of our hearts. When I read this I got a horror story image in my mind of a person so angry that he grits his teeth as his face turns red. Fire comes from his ears and eyes and mouth and melts his face, first, then engulfs his entire body. It's pretty graphic. When the person who turns away from God looks on the simple faith of a child of God, it makes him or her want to implode! How can she believe that nonsense! She's so naïve! Why is he smiling when his world is falling apart? And more maddening still is the inability to dissuade this child of God from his unwavering faith in Christ. To add insult to injury, things pretty much turn out for those God watches over. Even death can't take away their lives.

Let me just say that I understand the skeptic's irritation at my faith. To her it doesn't seem rational. But here is what I've come to learn about my Father. He isn't easy to figure out. Sometimes His plan is indecipherable. I have come to expect God to accomplish His will in the midst of what seems to me to be an organized mess. Really! And, always in my life, at the very last possible minute. But always, my God performs--comes through for me. The ones who forget God don't have that assurance. He's not their Father. Because they rejected the idea of it. So, they are left to what they can understand and design for themselves. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. Que sera, sera. Confident only in what he can build for himself, the man without God can only hope he's doing the right thing. Perhaps the house constructed with his earthly wisdom will stand--perhaps when he leans against it, it will collapse. We aren't built to make the decisions only God can, so eventually all will fail. Like the flimsy gossamer of a spider's web, not built to last.

The hope of the godless. Hmm. In what? I've heard, the universe. The vast spiritual force that is what is. Call on it and demand from it what is sovereignly due us. If you speak it out there to the whatever you want to call it, and say it enough, believe it enough, the universe will be obliged to give you millions of dollars, health, power. That's the secret. Hope in the goodness of mankind. I've heard that, also. It fails pretty quickly into cynicism. Beauty, prestige, eminence, intellect, wealth--all fade. None brings fulfillment to that place inherent in a woman or man that was created to believe in Someone bigger than ourselves. And forgetting God assumes you once knew Him. "Forget God!" I'll do what I darned well want to do without Him! Pretty scary stuff to trust only in myself for all I need to navigate this treacherous world. There's no One left to cry out to and no One left to thank. Only me, the universe and trouble. Interestingly, the one who leaves God behind often blames Him when things implode. When the tinselled twinings of her ill-conceived web are ripped by the breezes of adversity and she's left hanging by a thread from a mighty oak in a hurricane. And spider that she is, helpless and vulnerable, she screams in her tiny arachnid voice: "I hate You, God!" just before all hope is lost.

It doesn't have to end that way. Two men were crucified on either side of Jesus on Passover weekend. Both were criminals whose deeds were worthy of capital punishment. One of the men got tired of hearing Jesus and His meek musings..."Father, forgive them for they know not what they do!"  This while He's hanging between the man and another sweating, cringing thief. King of the Jews! Some king! Jesus was bleeding profusely from the beatings, unrecognizable almost as a human. "If you're the Christ, save Yourself!" The thief screamed it. An accusation. "If you're the Christ, save us!" But, of course, the man was making light of Jesus. Just like the soldiers spitting on Him and cursing.

"Shut up! Don't you fear God? This man is innocent. We aren't!" shouted the criminal straining against the horrors of crucifixion on the other side of Jesus. Both saw the same Man. Both were in the same boat. But this man got it. "Remember me when You come into Your kingdom."

"Today you will be with me in paradise." Jesus, looking through the sweat and blood of His death, promising one who'd forgotten God salvation as he hung by a thread.

PSALM 112 - I'm Pumped!!

His heart is steady. He will not be afraid, until he looks in triumph on his adversaries. He has distributed freely. He has given to the poor. His righteousness endures forever. His horn is exalted in honor.  (Verses 8-9)

I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleanness, and from all your idols I will cleanse you. And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in My statutes and be careful to obey My rules. Ezekiel 36  (Italics, mine)

You are a letter from Christ delivered by us, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on the tablets of the human heart.  2 Corinthians 3

Hilda's heart was the problem. That's what the doctor proclaimed the day before when the tests revealed that without a transplant, Hilda would soon die. She hadn't expected the news to be so dire. At first the prognosis was that perhaps the relatively minor angioplasty procedure would correct the issue of Hilda's unsteady heart. But the doctor hadn't realized the extent to which her heart was diseased. It was beyond repair. The only way for Hilda to recover would be for someone else to die. A donor match. Another heart where hers was.

Our hearts are the problem. They don't work correctly. Hardened by years of doubt and fear, experience their teachers, our hearts need the clogged arteries surrounding them to be cleaned out. The chambers shut down by years of abuse need a transplant. We are beyond repair. Pulsing through us out of tempo is the thickened blood of our over indulgences and the arrhythmia of our deadly choices. If only our hearts beat in a steady thrumming, pinking our cheeks and quickening our pace. If only we had energy for the everyday of living, much less for the battles that sprout in our paths. And so the Great Physician made a plan. To switch heart for heart. Long before surgeons caught on, God knew what it is we need. Open heart surgery. Nothing short of it will make us whole. There is no other way to gain a heart that is steady.

So what is this surgery all about, anyway? How does God actually give us a transplant? Glad you asked. The Old Covenant was written by the finger of God onto tablets and entrusted to Moses as he went down Mount Sinai, glowing with the presence of God, to give the people of God their rule book, so to speak. All that the Lord commanded was summed up in ten tenets. The first, however, proved to be the one they couldn't seem to get past. "You shall have no other gods before Me." If it was impossible for them to love Him, there was no reason to serve Him alone. There, with the heart again. Generations of stubborn resistance to His benevolent will for His people made God promise in His steadfast love that He would, for their sakes, take them into the operating room of His grace and remove the hearts that were so hard. Replace them with the heart of His Son. Give them a new operating system whereby He actually inhabits them by His Holy Spirit. Then all men and women would have steady hearts, beating in rhythm with His. Our only part in the transition? We have to let Him examine our hearts, submit to the surgery and live. Once the transplant is complete, we have new blood coursing through our veins. New minds supplied to the fullest with the nutrients to live a powerful life, able for the first time to actually live out all that God has for us!

So what's our problem? Back to the heart. The wicked, hardened one. It has a very loud mouth. Yelling at us that it's fine like it is. Doesn't need to change! Can't, even! And others with transplants aren't any better than we stony critters. Why, they sometimes have arrhythmia, too! Some malfunctioning hearts are just too stuck in the drama of being sick. Can't imagine the energy it takes to do the right thing anymore. Don't have what it takes to drag themselves to the Doctor. And, anyway, who says that Doctor is the only One Who can fix the problem? Then there are the hearts that will deny, deny, deny that they are sick. Symptoms may abound, but they will aver they are healthy as horses as they cough and spew from shortness of breath and faint for lack of verve. And all the time, the Great Physician offers the answer for free. He foots--footed--the bill.

Following the transplant Hilda received, she had energy she'd forgotten even existed. Her mind cleared, her pace quickened. But most of all, she was able to accomplish many of the things she'd wanted to do before but hadn't the strength for.

Following our transplants, our hearts should beat to the steady pace of God's love. There it is now! Inside of us! Brand spanking new hearts! The breathing apparatus of the Holy Spirit pushing His pneuma into the molecules of our lives. As Hilda will forever be tied to the surgeon who delicately traded her heart for another, we are tied to our Physician. As Hilda is forever grateful to the one who had to die in order for her to live, so are we forever grateful to the One Whose heart purchased our transformation, saving us from certain death. No longer do we need to fear we are unloved. No longer the trepidation of giving to others lest they don't give back. With the blood of our Physician pumping new life into the arteries of our fleshy hearts, we are free to offer up a life spared from the ravages of the disease that ran rampant when the old heart squeezed its poison into our wizened souls. We are in varying degrees of recovery, we Christians. Some were more damaged by the adversarial ways of the old heart than others. The healing process takes some time, just like Hilda's. But if we follow directions from the Surgeon, take a day at a time and learn from Him, our new hearts will pound in an ever more steady tempo. Our spiritual health will be our glory, our love for God our mainstay, our new life our heritage.

PSALM 112 - Is Life A Crap Shoot?

Light dawns in the darkness for the upright. He is gracious, merciful and righteous. It is well with the man who deals generously and lends. Who conducts his affairs with justice. For the righteous will never be moved. He will be remembered forever. He is not afraid of bad news. His heart is firm, trusting in the Lord.   (Verses 4-7)

Comme ci comme ca. Que sera, sera. What goes around comes around. You gotta take the good with the bad. Easy come, easy go. Life is a crap shoot. You are what you think...or eat. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. When life hands you lemons, make lemonade. Religion is the opiate of the masses.

I've heard several people lately discuss the meaning of life, or rather the meaninglessness of it. Especially in terms of its ups and downs. A few of my friends are influenced by Eastern religious thought. Guided by Buddhist teachings, fascinated by the multitude of Hindu gods. Or just convinced by the vicissitudes of life that it's rather random. That we need a pattern of thinking that will get us through somehow. And that is why we make up God...or gods. To make sense of what is nonsensical and confusing about living on Earth. It seems to them that we chart the course, for the good or the bad. We make lemonade or drink the bitter offerings handed to us by a desultory universe. There might be guiding principles, certainly Buddhism abounds with them, to prod us to live in the moment, to meditate and quiet our busy interior selves down. Hindu gods reveal themselves in yoga asanas. Group chanting makes the experience corporate and soothing. But the expectation isn't that one will find life purpose this way. At least not according to my friends. The purpose is to be able to live in the present - the now. To cope. And if there is understanding of the broader universe, it is in relation to finding the interior strength to live today in a world awash with various pleasures and pain and the peace is an end in itself.

I love my friends, so this isn't a diatribe about Eastern religions. It's only a simple comparison. With my God. With His world view. To reveal there is, in the mind and heart of the God of the Bible to whom I am privileged to relate as Father to daughter, true Light in darkness. True purpose in pain. A plan for each life that is intricately woven into the fabric of  history with an imprint as infinitely unique as is each snowflake--each fingerprint. My God is intentionally relational. He doesn't just spout esoteric one-liners for my edification and His glory. God, my Father, takes my hand and walks with me through this life He's given me. Yes, there are things God desires of  me. Statutes that make me better able to live in the now...and forever. But I'm not left to chant them into my heart or meditate over them for meaning. If I wake to meditate in the early morning hours, I'm speaking to the One True God Who hasn't hidden Himself in the forms of idols nor divided Himself into smaller, lesser gods. I have relationship with God because He loves me...and you...personally. Has known us since before the foundations of the world (Ephesians 1). Life isn't a crap shoot. It sometimes feels like it. Even to Christians, but that is why our hope is so important. Why prayer is more than the rote chantings of religion. It's my heart-to-heart with the One Who controls it all.

So when bad news comes, and it does to everyone, I have an anchor. I know some think I made Him up so I could survive the bad times. My opiate to keep from thinking more deeply about this world and its pain. That couldn't be further from the truth. First of all, I'd never make up a god who is my father. I wouldn't even think to do that. My god would have to be all powerful, therefore vengeful and angry with everything that angers me. He'd give me whatever I asked for. He'd be very small minded because I am. But my God challenges me personally every day, just like any good father. Corrects me. Leads me. Loves me. Sings over me. Holds me. Teaches me. Guides me. Laughs with me. Cries with me. Walks with me. Talks with me. He is not my opiate. He is my iron lung. He is my beating heart. It is He Who whispers in my ear, "Go this way."

What if I am right...and the Bible is correct...about this God? Then every life has purpose and each of us is precious to the God over all gods. He lives to bring  us to Him. Promises that even the bad times work for our good and His glory (Romans 8). Through the death and resurrection of Jesus, we have the Holy Spirit living within us enabling us to navigate the life expected of us by our God. It is an amazing package. Christianity. Why would anyone settle for less? A loving God who deals justly with injustice, Who empowers us to live in a confusing, out of control world, by indwelling our very souls, a Father Whose purpose is to grow us up and bring us home to His glorious dwelling place, and a path that is lit for us as we endeavor to walk it hand-in-hand with Him. If' I'm wrong, I will have lived for more than getting through, because if all the gods are a product of our desiring to cope with planet Earth, mine wins, hands down.

 

PSALM 112 - Cold Oatmeal and Long Prayers

Praise the Lord! Blessed is the man who fears the Lord, who greatly delights in His commandments! His offspring will be mighty in the land. The generation of the upright will be blessed. Wealth and riches are in his house, and his righteousness endures forever.
(Verses 1-3)

Seek first the kingdom of God and all these (other) things will be added to you. Matthew 6:33

"Get up, John Jr.!" bellowed the elder on Sunday mornings for all the child's life. "It's time to go to the Lord's House!"

The child stumbled out from under the covers and made his way to the bathroom where he washed the sleep out of his eyes and attempted to run a comb through his unruly hair. Downstairs, breakfast awaited. Oatmeal and toast, usually. John prayed over the food in accentuated holiness. A long speech to God that, when finally over, left the oatmeal cold. "This isn't fit to eat," said the father harshly to his wife. "It's cold as ice. Can't you even make breakfast?" He got up from the table and stuck his bowl in the microwave while his wife bowed her head and slumped down into her chair. Not wanting to be noticed or called out, John Jr. dug his spoon into breakfast and ate quickly. The sooner her could leave the table the better.

In the car on the way, big John quizzed his son about school. He wasn't really involved in the kid's life except to pontificate on the very little he knew about him. Usually that amounted to the drive to church each week. "How are your grades?" the man queried.

"Okay." John Jr. didn't want to start anything so early in the day.

"That's not an answer!" John Sr., already riled. "I asked you 'How are your grades?'"

John Jr. was always a little miffed that his mom just sat there. Said nothing. Like she was afraid of the man. "I have an A in English, a B in math, I don't know my grade in Social Studies.."

"Then find out!" John Sr. broke in. "What do you mean, you don't know! Of course, you know! God doesn't bless the slothful, John Jr.!"

And so it always went. At church, though, John Sr. was head deacon. A man in a dark suit, hair oiled and flat against his head, smelling of cologne and praying in loud and poignant rhetoric. An angry soul whose self-righteousness masked a heart dissatisfied and languishing. He didn't drink. He didn't cuss. He always gave a tenth. He provided for his wife and kid. What more could God want? John Sr. wasn't into the sentimentality of religion, though his tenor could be heard above the others as he bellowed out the hymns he'd grown up with. Life owed him for these things he did. God owed John Sr. because he played by the rules. Felt good about himself because he kept the Ten Commandments!

Across the congregation sat Patrick with his wife and three children. They'd begun the morning as they did every day. With prayer. "What's on your minds today, kids?" asked Patrick as they sat around the kitchen table after breakfast. "What do we need to talk to Jesus about?" Each of the children had stuff. Like always. "You know, Jesus hears our prayers, right?" They all nodded in agreement. "Okay. Well, let's talk to Him." And they did.

On the way to church, they sang Sunday School songs. Patrick wasn't a Christian as a child, so some of the songs his children learned were new to him. God had changed his life. Made him a new man. Church was the place where he learned how to live like Jesus wants him to. Patrick was amazed every morning when he got up that God loves him. Awed Jesus wanted a personal relationship with him. Patrick couldn't give enough, couldn't do enough, couldn't praise enough to ever return to Jesus all He had given. Patrick wanted to be a father to his own children that reflected the Father he now had in his God. "I know I'm not perfect," he'd say to his kids, "but I'm trying to be so you can know how wonderful Jesus is." He blew it sometimes. Sure. But he didn't live his life blowing up.

Two fathers. Keeping the commandments. Going to church. The psalmist pointing out that it's the father through whom the blessings come to the offspring. And having grown up in a very denominational environment, I get that we are often turned off by what we received from the experience. What God wants is a heart overtaken by His love. The man who obeys out of his own great passion for Jesus. Both fathers might look much alike in the congregation, but God is after what we do with all the other hours of our lives. Fathers impart holiness to their kids. Teach them to pray. Help them to walk the walk. By example. The chances of raising godly children are infinitely increased when the father delights in God. Runs to do what God asks of him. With joy. And only then can fathers be consistent in their walk with God on a daily basis. Rules don't change us. Commandments only tell us what we are doing wrong. If, by their own power, men try to live by the letter of the law, they will fail. Impart empty lives to children who are scorned for their inadequacies. The relationship of the father to his children should mirror the relationship of the father to his Father. And that is one of unconditional love and acceptance that stimulates children to compassion and good works. Because that's what "my daddy" did.

The promise is blessing to the father's children. Health and wealth--riches. A godly father will have imparted the road map for joy. Caught--not taught. If the father has a heart like his Father, his children will have a much better chance of taking that gift to the next generation. Generation to generation is how righteousness lives forever.

Husbands, love your wives and do not be harsh with them. Children, obey your parents in everything, for this pleases the Lord. Fathers, do not provoke your children lest they become discouraged.  Colossians 3  (Italics, mine)

Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church, and gave Himself up for her...husbands should love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes it and cherishes it, just as Christ does the church.
Ephesians 5

Daddies have a big job. Praise be to God that He has given you everything you need to live a life of godliness! 2 Peter 1:3

 

PSALM 111 - The Big Santa In The Sky

He sent redemption to His people. He has commanded His covenant forever. Holy and awesome is His name! The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. All those who practice it have a good understanding. His praise endures forever! (Verses 9-10)

The young man walking near the field that morning heard a quiet whimper. Maybe a wounded animal. It was hard to tell. He walked further, but heard it again. Stopped him cold. I think it's a baby. The man then cut into the short grass of the acreage to try and find the child. It lay not far from the road, umbilical still attached, naked and unwashed from its recent birth. A baby girl. Thrown, no doubt, by her mother into a certain death, unwanted. Garbage to the woman. The traveler, however, had great compassion on the tiny wriggling child wallowing in the blood of her birth. "Live!" he cried as he took her into his arms. "Live, child!" Oh, how he loved her in that moment.

The man took the baby into the village where be found a wet nurse to care for her. He provided her with a home and family. Out of his bounteous wealth, he spared no expense on her as she grew into womanhood. It was his care for her that caused her to flourish. Though he traveled extensively, the man kept in touch with the parents who had taken her in. He hadn't seen her in years when he came upon her again. This time she was fully grown, a woman tall and graceful. But she was poorly clothed. With no sense of propriety. In need of a different cleansing than before. She was lovely to him, so he took his expensive cloak and covered her with it. Offered his life to her. Wanted her to be his forever. Took her to be his bride.

In his love for the young woman, the man covered her in silks and fine leather. Bathed her uncleanness and anointed her with oil. He bought her expensive jewelry. Put jewels in her ears and necklaces around her neck and made her his queen. As such, the woman had the best foods, the finest flour, honey and oils. Her exceeding beauty was renowned worldwide. His love had made her beautiful, but she trusted in it and used it for her own advantage. Lured other men into their home and lay about with them on the gorgeous robes her husband had provided. In her debauchery, she took the jewelry and had it made into little gods to wear around her neck. The abundance of food in her home also became a lure for her liaisons with lesser  men. The last straw for the husband who loved her was when she took their children and sacrificed them to the god of self that had completely overtaken her soul.

What to do. She has completely forgotten that I took her from the field and made her live! In the darkness of her adulteries--her constant thoughts of only herself--she doesn't remember where her beauty came from. No thankfulness. No reciprocal love for the one who saved her from death. Gave her abundance. Saw her potential in grace and beauty. No understanding of the heart of the one who loved her so. The heart of God.

God Himself tells this story in Ezekiel 16. And it played in my head this morning when I read this psalm again. It is God Who finds us in our need. Crying in our desperation. Needing a Savior as we lie naked and vulnerable in the field of woe in which we find ourselves abandoned by every addiction and trick of the devil to die in our pain. Whimpering and alone, He comes to find us. Takes us up and nurtures us, marries us to Himself as His Beloved. This is the heart of our God. It is the reverence for that which is the beginning of our understanding of Him, the catalyst for wisdom. If we are in awe only of His wrath, scared by His power or bowed down under His commandments, we miss the real reason to fall at God's feet in holy awe. It is His relentless love for us that should make us say with the psalmist, "Holy and awesome is His name!" He redeemed us by His own will out of His vast, fathomless and everlasting love to become people He makes a promise to. Really? Caught up in God's hands from the bloody repercussions of our natural birth to be born again into royalty, clothed in fine linen, tended to, provided for, watched over and coddled. We belong to God, His children, the Bride of Christ. No wonder when we go after other gods, spirits of the universe who can only be a facsimile of the real and powerful God of All, it is to Him adulterous. We leave Him for Hindu gods or the worldly idols of our selfish hearts. When He, alone, is  the God who cares for us.

In order to walk with Jesus, we must understand and revere that heart. We won't last long in the faith if we think it's about the rules of the game. The stakes are too high and we'll lose because we don't have it in us to be perfect like the law demands. Nor will we be glued to the Father if all we want is good times because life is hard and things don't always go our way. If we think God is a great big Santa in the sky, we'll also fail when we don't get what we want every time we pray. I was thinking last night as I prayed before I fell asleep about God's rescue of me from sin. I was pretty far gone in my heart. Trapped by own choices. Deep in the pit. But what I discovered as I cried out to the One Who had found me in the field was that I loved Him just a little bit more than I loved my sin. Pitiful, I know. But it was the beginning of wisdom for me. He loved me first. My love was reciprocal, a response to His. But certainly not in kind. And the knowledge that my God still loved me, stuck in the mire as I was, so pierced the darkness of my heart that it melted just a little. I remembered a far off time when I'd danced before Him and adored Him. And I was homesick for that relationship. It wasn't until that moment that I grasped the depth of my failure. But my Beloved wanted me back. And that was enough to get me dragging my mud-slogged body out of hell.

In my prayer I was asking my Father last night to bind me to Him. To carry me along with Him like mothers carry their children in Baby Bjorns. To hear my Father's pulse. Never again do I want to lose the wonder of the Father's love because it is that love that makes me yearn to understand Him better and to walk in a way that pleases Him. And that is the wisest choice I can make.
 

PSALM 111 - Wonder What He'll Come Up With For That One!

Full of splendor and majesty is His work, and His righteousness endures forever. He has caused His wondrous works to be remembered. The Lord is gracious and merciful. He provides food for those who fear Him. He remembers His covenant forever. He has shown His people the power of His works in giving them the inheritance of the nations. The works of His hands are faithful and just. All His precepts are trustworthy. They are established forever and ever, to be performed with faithfulness and uprightness. (Verses 3-8)

 Hildebrand Gurlitt was a curator and art dealer when Hitler rose to power in the days before the second world war. Hired by Goebbels to rid museums of what Hitler declared to be "degenerate" art, Mr. Gurlitt hid many of the works of art by major artists like Picasso and Matisse. In the past few months it has been discovered that his son, Cornelius Gurlitt has been in possession of the artwork since the end of the war. Its worth. Over two billion dollars. Over the years the younger Gurlitt would sell a painting in order to make a living. The cache of paintings were stored in his trash filled home. Great worth in nugatory surroundings. Their splendor hidden for years until happened upon in the house of an ordinary eighty-year-old man. Masterpieces forgotten in the press of day-to-day.

I look at a masterpiece of God every single day. The ocean. How is glistens in the morning dawn, silver then pink then sparkling blue. The peachy-orange it turns as the sun goes slowly down in the evening. Dolphins rolling in the waves close to shore. Sea gulls squawking against a bright blue sky and sandpipers running along the shoreline pecking for sand crabs. A painting that can't be hidden. A wonder that will never be found in the trash of someone's closet. Too unfathomably large a canvas to be obscured. And I applaud. Every time. Always to my mind comes the song, "For the beauty of the earth, for the glory of the skies, for the love which from our birth, over and around us lies, Lord of all, to Thee we raise, this our hymn of grateful praise." Why then is He not recognized as the master Creator He is? Who can miss the spectacle of His works. Mountains, streams, valleys, mesas--the stuff of lesser artists' renderings. Only a copy, a very small snapshot of the bigger vista that no one painting could capture. A lone tree, perhaps. The snowy peak of a mountain viewed from a distance. God is the Master Painter Whose brush strokes often bring us to our knees in awe. We can only duplicate it. We cannot create it, too. So how is it He is not acknowledged as the Wonder He is?

It is in discovering the Artist that we often appreciate His works. I've spent my fair share of time roaming through famous and not so famous art museums discovering which works mesmerize me and which artists are not to my taste. But what I always acknowledge is they have a gift I don't possess. A passion for their subjects--a need to create on canvas. Why are we built like that? Where does our joy in beauty come from? Dogs don't paint. Horses don't recite poetry. Hogs don't look at the moon and wonder at its beauty. People do. Created in the image of God, we know what He knows, intrinsically. It was all made for us to enjoy. It's way too ordered and magnificent to have been accidental. We'd never say that about a Matisse or a Picasso. They had something in mind when they painted. An idea. A landscape. A story. Just as what they paint is a copy of the broader landscape created by God, so is their desire to express the beauty and share it. And the more admiration we have for the artwork, the more we want to know about the artist. What makes her tick? Where does her inspiration come from? Why does she love to paint?

And if the wonders of this world are the canvas of its Creator, made for us to marvel at in the museum that is Earth, we can be connected to Him and His art. God wants to tell us why He paints. What's was on His mind when He thought up the butterfly. The only creature that completely transforms from one thing (caterpillar) to a wholly other thing in its cocoon. Like going in a tricycle and coming out an airplane. Was it to transfix us? To ask, "How did You do that?" Most of the time, we just look at butterflies and say, "How pretty." But that is simply one masterpiece we should be in awe of every second of every day. Ordinary, really. There is so much artwork, breathtaking artwork, just on my back porch. Hummingbirds, camellias, cactus, spiders that somehow make a web from tree to tree. I believe it takes way more faith to believe they just came to pass over millions of years than to believe an awesome mind conceived the cricket and held it in His hand to admire it as He set it onto Earth. When man was given the task of naming elephants or rhinos, I think the God Who walked with him in the garden chuckled. Wonder what the man will come up with for that one! It takes more faith to believe that the hues and textures of the varied landscapes of our world were simply an accident of evolution than that One with an eye for balance and composition wanted us to applaud oases and rain forests, tide pools and fir covered slopes, vast deserts and vaster seas--nothing boring and mundane. Lest we make it so.

So maybe it's the very thought that to admire the masterpiece means to understand there is One Who conceived it in the first place. And if we acknowledge that it is painted for us to stand in awe of and wonder at the artist, we must acknowledge the artist Himself. We would find that He is not only a brilliant designer, but that God is a faithful Lover, a righteous Judge, a generous Provider, a merciful Father and a keeper of covenant promises. God is a Personality. To be reckoned with. And the works of art in which we daily live are to remind us as we hear sea gulls call or see the stars twinkling their own specific glory in the skies at night that God is alive and intricately connected to and well acquainted with all of His creation. Every brush stroke. Every curve, height, depth and contour. Just like Monet or de la Tour. He is not like them. They are like Him. And if God's great works are hidden, it's because we don't want to see. Unlike Gurlitt who knew their worth, when we ignore the art that so decorates our world, we do so in order to ignore the Artist, and deny His value.

Oh, Lord, how majestic is Your name in all the earth! You have set Your glory above the heavens...When I look at the heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars You have set in place, what is man that You think about him?......  Psalm 8  (italics, mine)T

PSALM 111 - Jesus and the Mango Smoothie

I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart, in the company of the upright, in the congregation. Great are the works of the Lord, studied by all who delight in them.
(Verses 1-2)

I experienced a bit of push back by the enemy of my soul this weekend. Here's why.

I met a friend for coffee earlier in the week. Well, mango smoothie for me, as coffee past nine in the morning makes me a hyper machine that doesn't shut down until way past when I should've gone to bed. The purpose of our getting together was for my friend to share what's been going on in her work life. To blow off a little steam and get clarity. On my way out of the door, I heard the Lord whisper, "Bring a Bible." So, I left my car running in the garage while I ran back upstairs for one. Left it in the car when I got to the strip mall where we met.

My friend is not a Christian...or was not one. Though she has a heart for God. Always has. And stirring within her recently has been the knowledge that there's something more. A restless heart. She is Jewish. And in a recent conversation I had with her, I told her we have the same God. It resonated with her so that she's been chewing on it since. But I didn't go to the coffee shop to proselytize her. I'm simply her friend. Wanted to give her an ear because I love her.

During our conversation, Vanessa sent me a text. In the middle of a very busy day, Judy (not her real name) had called offering her home once again for my daughter to spend the night instead of making the two hour drive home. Then I told my friend the story of Vanessa's very demanding job, twelve and thirteen hour days, often very late nights, then driving home. Early on I began praying that a woman would come into the upscale hotel in Beverly Hills where Vanessa works as a special events planner and offer our daughter a room or a casita to rent or stay in. And that is what God did. Brought Judy to the hotel. She loved my baby and offered a retreat for her in Bel Air. She often stays there several nights a week. Our God doing amazing things.

My friend couldn't get over it. How God answers prayers like that. He is amazing. "How do you get that kind of relationship with Him?" she asked.

"Jesus," was my answer.

And we talked about Old Testament sacrifices and New Testament covenants. She has a Bible now. Also has a new light in her eyes. Knowing God more fully is a joyful process. I'm just happy to be watching what the Lord is doing in her life.

But as I drove home, talking to my Father, I was struck by how one miracle intruded upon the other. Had Judy not called asking Vanessa to come spend the night, had I not received the text and told the story, the Bible would've possibly have remained in the car and we'd have talked of other things. But God had different plans. Came to sit with us over a mango smoothie and tea. Loves my friend. Is wooing her to Himself. Just as surely as He came to eat with the disciples, walk with the lepers and break bread for the multitudes. Still doing His greatest work of all. Our salvation.

So my weekend was marred by the push back of the enemy. It involved broken glass and feeling stupid. Funny, though, I was well into my irritation with myself before I recognized the real source of it. Jesus is greater than the enemy who would rob me of my peace. I never want to underestimate the miracle of clarity. Never want to forget the authority Christ has given me to speak His name to demons who would slay me. Yes, His works are great! I marvel at them, delight in Him and live to see what my God will do today. I love Him with my whole heart. Can you see me dancing?

PSALM 110 - Don't Wade in the River Styx!

The Lord is at your right hand to help you. When He becomes angry, He will crush kings. He will judge those nations, filling them with dead bodies. He will defeat rulers all over the world. The King will drink from the brook on the way. Then he will be strengthened.  (Verses 5-7)

But I trust in You, Lord. I say, "You are my God." My times are in Your hands." Rescue me from the hand of my enemies and from my persecutors!  Psalm 31

I'd just been to the obstetrician. "Yep," he declared. "You're pregnant!" Flooded with a mixture of joy and consternation, I walked from his office in a daze. I'd taken an early pregnancy test a couple of weeks before, was experiencing a little nausea and was needing naps at odd times of the day. So, I wasn't surprised. But the confirmation of the new life growing in me sealed the deal. Our daughters were seven and nine, and we weren't expecting the addition to our family. Had to get all the baby things together again. Bassinet, crib, changing table, stroller...all the things we'd bid adieu to long before. There was so much on my mind as I drove across town to the Dallas hospital where my best friend, Cathette, lay awaiting news of a biopsy on a lump in her breast.

I met my friend the first day of our teaching careers in Red Oak, Texas, a little town outside of Dallas. She was so pretty, sitting on the other side of the room with her long dark hair, her red heart-shaped lips pursed in a half-smile that revealed her deep dimples and accentuated her rosy cheeks. Our eyes met. We knew in that moment we were comrades-in-arms in this suburban high school. She was a Catholic. Had thought of becoming a nun. Her love for Jesus was authentic. I loved her. From the very start. My beautiful friend. We studied the Bible together during lunch. She spent many hours in our home. Rejoiced over both of our daughters with us. Made me maternity clothes. Cathette finally married in her early thirties and wanted to begin her own family. But she contracted mumps on her honeymoon. Not long afterward, the lump appeared. And now she was waiting for me, along with her husband, to visit her in the hospital.

When I turned the corner from the elevator and wandered down the hall looking for the room number, I felt my stomach churning. Desperately wanting her news to be good. To match mine. But a dread becoming stronger with each footstep that her life was about to drastically change. "Hi," I said as I tiptoed into her room. I was going to say, "How are you?" but I knew from the looks on their faces it wasn't good.

"It's cancer, Kay," she whispered. She was holding her husband's hand. Like she was holding on for dear life trying to stay on a lifeboat. I took her other hand in mine. Breathed in. Breathed out. What to say? All I could think of was, "Oh, Cathette." My eyes filled with tears as her huge green eyes pooled with her own. "I am the Lord's, Kay."

After we prayed together, I got back on the elevator, stunned. New life beginning in me. The time in my life for joy ricocheting off her new struggle. And I reached for His hand to steady my doubts. Our times must rest in the knowledge that He loves and protects us.

Never will I forget that acknowledgment in the midst of the battle that was now her reality. That assurance would take her through the next few years of her short life. Remission. Two adopted sons. Another bout with cancer. Her eventual death. She is the Lord's. I know to some it would seem He abandoned her. Let her fall on the battlefield. But for us all, the last real enemy is death. And if we don't know we are His in life and in death, we will expect things to go differently. Our times--the length of our days, the direction of our path, the purposes of our journey--are in His hands. Though Satan grabs for us, trying to snatch us into hell, we are secure in our God. So in dancing and in dirges, we belong to Christ Who sustains us. Who fights for us. Rescued from the ravages of cancer, I know Cathette rejoices whole and beyond happy as she looks at her conquering Savior today.

Our times are confusing and treacherous. We are tempted on all sides to be squeezed into the world's mold. Pornography, drugs, alcohol, adulterous relationships, greed, power--enemies of our souls. Sent to rob us of a holy walk with God. It seems daily that one more moral standard succumbs to political correctness and we wade through the polluted waters of the River Styx while we pray to be clean. Our promise, though, in all of this? God is going to stand up one day and judge it. This chaotic, unholy world. It is a war He is destined to win. In the meantime, we need a drink from the brook. To gulp living water until we overflow with it. To be refreshed during our time here, trusting He holds our hand through thick and thin and holds it still when we leave this fleshy life, trading it for eternity. Our battle plan in the meantime?

Brothers and sisters, I ask you to look for those who cause people to be against each other and who upset other people's faith. They are against the true teaching you learned, so stay away from them. Such people are not serving our Lord Christ but are only doing what pleases themselves. They use fancy talk and fine words to fool the minds of those who do not know about evil...Be wise in what is good and innocent in what is evil. Then the God Who brings peace will crush Satan under your feet!   Romans 16

 

PSALM 110 - Taxes and Tears

The Lord has sworn an oath and will not change His mind. He said, "You are a priest forever like Melchizedek." (Verse 4)

Melchizedek. King of Righteousness. King of Peace. As King of Salem, Genesis 14 seems to indicate He is King of Jerusalem, also called Salem. Abram's nephew, Lot, was taken prisoner when several kings mounted war against each other. So into the fray rode Abram with 318 members of his household whom he'd trained for war. In a nighttime raid, the men of Abram defeated them. After they'd chased the surviving troops north of Damascus, Abram and his men took for themselves all the plunder left behind in the hasty retreat. Lot was rescued and his belongings restored. The defeat was miraculous and profitable. The King of Sodom came to meet Abram in the King's Valley. But before they could have a conversation, Melchizedek approached Abram, carrying bread and wine. Abram recognized him to be a priest of the Most High God, although it's clear neither man knew where Melchizedek came from or where he was going.

"Abram is blessed by God Most High, Creator of heaven and earth, and I give praise to God Most High Who has handed over your enemies to you." Melchizedek pronounced this blessing over a humbled Abram. Though there is no mention of further conversation, Abram immediately desires to give the King and Priest a tenth of all the spoils. He understood the blessing as Yahweh reminding him that the miraculous defeat was from God, not from Abram's own hand. It isn't clear what the priest and king did with the bread and wine, but it must have been part of the blessing. The sharing of it.

Melchizedek was eternal, showing up out of nowhere, never returning quite that way again in the history the Bible records. Biblical scholars understand the verse, quoted again in the New Testament book of Hebrews, to be about the coming Messiah. For no earthly priest and king is eternal. They all die. Only One is both King and Priest. He also came offering bread and wine. At once the priest over the sacrifice and the sacrifice itself. Jesus.

 I'm interested in the response Abram had to Melchizedek, the King of Righteousness and Peace. Not king of Asia, or France or Italy. This is a different kingdom altogether. Abram didn't commit a tenth of his spoils to a man who ruled a land nearby. The act was spiritual. Physical stuff given to a spiritual king. More an act of the heart's willingness to part with some of what God provided as an acknowledgment of God's being the provision all along. The Bible doesn't say what Melchizedek did with the offering. That doesn't seem to matter to Abram. His heart was so overwhelmed with thankfulness and so awed by the presence of the priest, that he gave. It's what knowing Jesus does to us...

The unpopular little tax collector made his money off the backs of the hard working people of Jericho. Stole from them, really, by cheating them on their tax reports. Too short to see Jesus when He came into town, the man, Zacchaeus, ran ahead of the crowd and climbed a tree that was next to the path where the Man soon be standing. Legs dangling, head bobbing, trying to get a look from his aerie. To the crooked collector's amazement, Jesus stopped right beneath the tree. "Zacchaeus, hurry up and come down from there. I must stay at your house today!"

"What?!" The people not only stunned, by disgusted. The man with ill-gotten gains. The cheat! The liar! Why him?

"I will give half my possessions to the poor!" the little man declared as he stood to his feet looking up at Jesus. "And, if I've cheated anyone, I'll pay them back four times more!" Just blurted it out. Couldn't help himself. The spoils he'd taken from others now presented to his very own Melchizedek.

"Salvation has come to your house today, Zacchaeus!" Jesus beamed. "The Son of Man came to find lost people and to save them!"

A sinful woman heard that Jesus was eating at the home of Simon, a Pharisee. Her heart got the better of her head as she grabbed some perfume and ran brazenly into the home of the Jewish ruler. He was standing speaking to Jesus when she came up behind Him and threw herself at His feet. Touching them, being near Jesus, shame caressing righteousness, the woman burst into tears. They flowed in grief and remorse, washing the sand sprinkled ankles and arches of the Teacher. It's not what she planned. To cry this way. How to clean up the mess. Quickly, before He could notice, she took her hair down and wiped the mess she'd made from His feet, kissing them as she dried the tears away. The perfume! She'd almost forgotten in her cleansing that she'd wanted to give the Man this gift. She grabbed the bottle from her belt and poured its fragrance in abundance all over the feet of Jesus. Rubbing its scent into His skin. Wiping her uncleanness from His purity.

"Hmmph!" thought the Pharisee, "If Jesus were truly a prophet, He'd know what a sinful strumpet is touching Him!"

"Simon," said Jesus, looking him straight into his accusing eyes. "Let me tell you a little story."

"Uh..sure," stuttered Simon.

"There were two men who owed the same banker. One owed him five hundred coins. One owed him fifty. Neither had the money to repay him. The banker forgave both debts. Which one will love him more?"

"I think it would be the one who owed him the most money," answered Simon.

"Right!" Jesus looked at the woman at His feet. "You didn't even offer me a bowl to wash My feet when I entered your home, nor did you kiss Me in greeting. But she washed My feet with her tears, dried them with her hair, and anointed Me with perfume. I'm telling you, she has many sins and they are forgiven. That's why she showed me such great love." The woman dried her eyes and looked up at Jesus. "Your sins are forgiven. Go in peace." The blessing of her very own Melchizedek to Whom she offered her thankful gift.

"You see, Simon," said Jesus as he turned to the man, now red faced with embarrassment, "the one who's forgiven only a little will love only a little."

Something about our Priest and King makes us want to reciprocate somehow. Without being told to. "Here, take everything. And more. For I was nothing before You found me."

Therefore, since we have a great high priest Who has passed through the heavens--Jesus, the Son of God--let us hold fast to the confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but One Who has been tested in every way as we are, yet without sin. Therefore, let us approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us at the proper time.    Hebrews 4
 

PSALM 110 - Battlefield Earth

The Lord will enlarge Your kingdom beyond Jerusalem, and You will rule over Your enemies. Your people will join You on Your day of battle. You have been dressed in holiness since birth. You have the freshness of a child.  (Verses 2-3)

"My kingdom is not of this world." Jesus to Pilate     John 18

That's the problem, isn't it? We still think in terms of this world. I read an article this morning revealing a popular political view emerging more and more in our society that church life should be kept inside the walls of the church. No meandering out in public with our love for Jesus. No infringing upon the political correctness of American lifestyle and politics with our understanding of morality or compassion. Keep religion in the church! That is an impossibility even if we, in our daunting position, decide to comply. Jesus isn't about this government, anyway. His realm is far more vast than the tiny globe we inhabit. He rules over more than puny people who raise their silly fists in His face. Jesus spoke the stars into being and still tells them where to go. Lord of heaven and earth, the Son is in charge of the future we think we control. No one comes to power if He didn't say so. The agenda of the Trinity is set. Battle grounds have been designated. And the Victor, streaming down from heaven on a glistening white stallion, accompanied by the armies of God, also astride white horses, will demolish the great kings of the earth(Revelation 19). No more Idi Amin. No more starvation in Africa. No more genocide in Rwanda. The One called "The Word of God" with King of Kings and Lord of Lords written on His robe and on His thigh, lest we miss it is Jesus come to conquer, will rule over His enemies. And we will see it. In heaven, right now, in the moment I write this, Jesus already rules over His enemies. They can do nothing He doesn't allow. History is set. It's a chess game God will win. But this isn't His kingdom.

We are. Jesus understands how hard it is to live for His spiritual kingdom in the physical world. In His prayer the night of His arrest, Jesus prayed over us when He spoke to the Father about His disciples. "I am praying for them. I am not praying for the world but for those whom You have given Me, for they are Yours. All Mine are Yours and Yours are Mine, and I am glorified in them. And I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to You...I do not ask that You take them out of this world, but that You keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. Sanctify them in the truth. Your Word is truth. As You sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world." (John 17, italics, mine). Those of us who know Christ understand our enemy isn't the state. It's not the rulers of this earth. It is the evil one. The unseen kingdom of darkness ruled by principalities and powers we can't see. Our battle ground is cosmic in scope and not limited to the Hitlers of this age. We fight against the spirit of this age. Against the demons who control mere men. Against the lies and agenda of the devil. And our weapons aren't handguns or tanks. The weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ
(2 Corinthians 10).

The two realms separated for us when we were "born again." Not of the water of the wombs of our mothers, but born of the Spirit of God. A spiritual other life. That must necessarily affect our minds, bodies and spirits. No more can we keep our faith out of the market places and cities of this world than we can cloister our bodies inside the walls of the local Baptist church. We are to live like Christians everywhere. If it doesn't affect our way of life, it isn't valid. And that is what the world doesn't understand. They see our faith as a code of ethics. A set of stringent rules to be obeyed. And they don't want those rules enforced upon them. And they shouldn't. They don't even have the power to obey a bunch of commandments. And neither did we. Before we became new creatures in Him. We make the world uncomfortable. We feel squeezed into trying to be like them.

So what do we do as we are "in the world" as believers? How do we live, then, knowing our kingdom is a spiritual one that changes our view of the physical one? We follow Christ. We live authentically, compassionately, intentionally with our weapons of warfare aimed at the true enemy of our faith. In prayer, taking down strongholds and battling the lies the enemy uses to destroy souls. Remembering it was the uber-religious who killed Christ. Not the world. Pilate saw no fault in Him. Was troubled by the kingdom of which Jesus spoke. Declared Him to be King of the Jews. The point for them was the laws of their religion. The point for us is the love for our Savior. One motivates for punishment. The other, for redemption. I want to walk out into the streets of my world today armed for battle against evil and clothed in love for the lost. Compassion oozes out despite ourselves. Religion is best kept locked away in the four walls of any establishment that sees only right and wrong. That can be argued. Let's fight the fight on our knees and live the life in His light. We are holy from our new birth. Came as a child to Jesus. Have been adopted by that birth into a new family. With fresh joy I want to be the aroma of life today as I walk hand in hand with my God on battlefield Earth.

PSALM 110 - How Do You Like Him Now?

The Lord says to my Lord, "Sit at My right hand, until I make Your enemies Your footstool."
(Verse 1)

"Behold! The Lamb of God Who takes away the sins of the world!" John 1:29

Heaven was breathless. The Son risen and returning. Thousands upon ten thousands of angels, the living beings that surround the throne of God and twenty-four elders more fervent in their worship as they anticipate His arrival. "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, Who was and is and is to come!" John, the disciple of Jesus, then saw a scroll in the hands of the One seated on the throne. There was writing on both sides of it and it was sealed with seven seals.

"Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seven seals?" cried a mighty angel in a loud voice that echoed to the ends of heaven.

No one. The silence of it broke John as he waited, looking for someone to come forward. Not one stepped up to the throne, in heaven or earth or from under the earth. All were still in heartbreaking anticipation. The void filled the apostle and he wailed the grief of it. John's keening heard over the worship, cutting through the praise until one of the twenty-four elders noticed. "Don't weep any more!" he cried out to John. "Look! Look there! The Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered! He can open the scrolls! He can break the seals!"

Fresh from victory, still bloodied as though He'd been slain, was Jesus, the Lamb of heaven, standing at the right hand of God, His Father. Jesus now home. Finished with crosses and the darkness of tombs! The Messiah straight from fulfilling all the hundreds of prophecies set in the earthly book to announce a spiritual victory proclaimed and rejoiced over by the host of heaven. Jesus stood there silently as John moved to see His face, a sacrificial Lamb still bearing the marks of Earth that made Him worthy to finish history by His every command.

Then Jesus moved. Took the scroll from the Father's right hand and heaven's host fell face down before Him. The twenty-four elders held harps and bowls of incense. These bowls were the prayers of God's people, and the fragrant smoke rose to sweeten the throne room as the elders played a song never heard before in heaven. The new song. To a risen Lamb. All the honor Jesus missed from the ignominy of His cross, now split heaven open as the elders loudly sang: "Worthy are You to take the scroll and to open its seals, for You were slain, and by Your blood You ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation, and You have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth!"

The music of heaven, more full, more harmonious, more breathtaking than John could imagine. And Jesus standing in the midst, made of light, glistening in His glory unashamed of His wounds, aware of the import of the sealed scroll now in His hand, received the adoration shouted from the throngs of heavenly beings whose bodies shook with the fervor of it. "Worthy is the Lamb Who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!"

Suddenly, in response to the rumbling declaration of heaven, John heard the future collide with the present. Every creature in the heavens and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and everything that is in them, cried out, "To Him Who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!" Like the roaring of myriad waterfalls, loud and resonating to fill the vacuums in every soul, to shake the mountains of creation and the foundations of heaven, all strove to somehow express the depths of the love they felt with their entire beings.

And the four living beings around the throne shouted, "Amen!" Heaven reverberated as the twenty-four elders fell down once more in abject and unabashed worship before the Lamb.

That is why Jesus could endure the cross, carry our shame, bear our sins. For this. The acknowledgement when He went home that He is the Only One worthy to see us through to the end. The accolades earthy, dusty men failed to honor Jesus with were waiting for Him in the throne room drenched in emerald brilliance, shaking with lightning and thunder. All the hosts waited in breathless anticipation for this day. Legions of angels had to be held back as they watched God the Son murdered on the cross. Mourning pierced heaven when God the Father turned from His Only Begotten Son so the Lamb could bear the just punishment for our sins. But the moment the bloodied Lamb appeared from His destined death, walked up to His Father waiting there with the scroll of the Son's honor in His right hand, He knew He'd come home to finish the work of our salvation, smelling the incense of our continued prayers. In that moment it was worth it all.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight and the sin which so easily clings to us, and let us run with endurance the race set before us, 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 now seated at the right hand of the throne of God.  Hebrews 12   (italics, mine)

PSALM 109 - Earth's Crisis Point!

With my mouth I will give great thanks to the Lord. I will praise Him in the midst of the throng. For He stands at the right hand of the needy one, to save Him from those who condemn his soul to death. ( Verses 30-31)

For the word of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but for us who are being saved, it is the power of God. For it is written, "I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning, I will thwart."
Where is the one who is wise? Where is the writer? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe.  1 Corinthians 1

I watched with much of America last night as ninety-five-year-old Billy Graham spoke once again unashamedly--boldly--about the cross of Christ. Rock stars wear it, diamond-encrusted and bawdy, hanging from their necks. Churches are adorned with crosses on steeples and in sanctuaries all over the world. For some, it's merely a bauble--a symbol of peace and love. Remembering the good man who was treated ill and still forgave his enemies as he gazed down on lesser men from his sacred vantage point. Others see it derisively. A foolish belief in a silly story. Gods don't mix with men then die. On a wooden cross. Between two thieves. Crazy.

Tears filled my eyes--fill them again now--at Dr. Graham's first mention of the word. If the cross on which Jesus died is merely a symbol, what is the explanation for generations of people flocking toward the front of auditoriums, stadiums, theaters and arenas across the world in order to give their lives to Christ when Billy Graham preached simply the cross? To then be changed forever. It's not the cross, of course. It's Who was on it. What it was about. Why Jesus cried out, "It is finished!"

In the days before His triumphal entry into Jerusalem for the feast days culminating in Passover, Jesus visited Bethany and brought His dear friend Lazarus back from the dead. Four days he'd been in the tomb. When Lazarus appeared, he was still bound in his grave clothes, wound tightly like a mummy. The crowds gathered there gasped! The Pharisees convulsed. It was the defining miracle of Jesus's ministry. It was the last straw for his enemies. They plotted His death thereafter.

But the throngs of people in Jerusalem for the feast days were anticipating the coming of Jesus. Still marveling at the miracle of  Lazarus. Never had one dead so long been raised. Surely Jesus is the King! Messiah finally come! So on the back of a donkey He rode into their streets as they screamed, "Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel!"

"The whole world's gone crazy for this man!" said the Pharisees among themselves. What to do?

In the midst of the pressing crowd later that day, Jesus struggled with what He knew He was going to face in the hours ahead. "I'm troubled," He told the disciples. "But what shall I say, that I'm not going to do this thing. Call out to my Father to save me from this?"

Confused, the disciples simply walked in the way with him through the streets of the city. Suddenly Jesus stopped and looked up. "Father, glorify Your name." Not a shout. The normal outcropping of His inner prayer life. But God answered Him. "I have. And I will glorify it again." Deep answering to deep. And there was loud, crashing thunder in the middle of a clear, blue day. "An angel has spoken to Him." The sense the crowd had.

"This voice hasn't come for My sake, but for yours. Now krisis is upon this world. Now the ruler of this world shall be cast down!"  Krisis: crisis, judgment, damnation, condemnation. Jesus said, "The world is at its crisis point. And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to Myself."
John 12

And so by the end of the week, the answer to the crisis of creation came in the form of a hero who once and for all did battle with evil. Lest we think there is no demonic influence in our world, we must look around. Marvel at the addictions that wrap themselves around our hearts and minds. Prisons that don't make sense. We are fettered to concoctions and relationships. We are bound by our desires and are pulled by the hair of our spiritual heads into death. That is what Jesus could see. The snake in the garden who took over the world. The One Who was to crush the enemy as promised from the very first headlong tumble into sin in Eden must free us from his hold. No armor. No jet black stallions and fair maidens. No shouting "Freedom!" from the midst of battle. No need for another to die to bring justice. Lifted up for all to see, shamed with our shame, derided unfairly, Jesus knew as He hung between two crooks that this was the only way to win us back. And we don't love Him for His bravado. For the curly locks and cocky swagger of the usual super hero. We love Jesus and the cross because it is His glory. It is the weightiness of His coming to earth. It is the cross that crushed our dependency on self, broke all the agreements we'd made with the evil one, exposed all the lies we foolishly believed and set us free to really know our God! If that is foolishness, then I'm a fool. But one changed by the exaltation of Christ in the victory that was His death. Transformed by a new mind poured into me by the Holy Spirit sent from God to women and men who believe the foolishness of the cross.

With the psalmist I cry out! Open my mouth and sing at the top of my lungs! Thank you! My Jesus!Who now sits at the right hand of the throne of God! Consequently, He is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through Him, since He always lives to make intercession for them! Hebrews 7  (Italics, mine)

There is, therefore, no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus.  Romans 12

The cross, the cross, the wonderful cross.

PSALM 109 - Just Wait Until Your Father Gets Home!

Lord, my God, help me! Because You are loving, save me. Then they will know that Your power has done this. They will know that You have done it, Lord. They may curse me, but You bless me. They may attack me, but they will be disgraced. Then I, Your servant, will be glad. Let those who accuse me be disgraced and covered with shame like a coat. (Verses 26-29)

"..he who touches you hurts what is precious to ME." God, Zechariah 2

I am so glad that when I'm in trouble I don't have to remind God about how good and godly I am. I don't have to remind Him of all the times I've sacrificed in order to tithe, the number of people I've told about Jesus, the many days I've fasted and prayed. It wouldn't be enough. I'm just not that good. I'd have to be perfect for my God to come to my rescue based upon my righteousness. Good thing He hears me because He loves me.

My mother used to call me "Precious." In the years of my growing up, I never paid much attention to all that meant. I was used to it. In fact, I think it wasn't until I told one of my best friends about seeing Mother's face float before me on the day of her funeral that I grasped how meaningful it was. My friend and I were sitting in a hotel room in Austin, Texas, reminiscing about our college days and catching up on the years since we'd been together when I told her about Mother's death. I ended the story with Mother's words to me in the vision of her. "It's all right, Precious. It's all right." Tears were swimming in my eyes as they always do when I remember the moment. Tears were also running down the cheeks of my friend. I was thinking the visitation from my mother was the thing stirring her so. But, ever honest, she said, "No. It's that she called you 'precious.' My mother never said anything like that to me."

What's it mean to be so to someone? Precious: Rare. Of great value. Highly esteemed. Valued for some immaterial, spiritual or moral quality. That is what I was to my mother. As a parent, I get it now. More precious than anything on earth are my children to me. I, like my mother, tell them that on a regular basis. And when they want me, they don't call and say, "You know I've been a great kid. I've rarely disobeyed and, actually, you owe it to me to meet my need." Not only is that unnecessary, it's insulting. To try to garner my help based on how good they've been instead of asking for it because they know I love them is asking based on a much lesser motive. If they need me, I'm there! Simply because they are precious to me.

The psalmist knew this. Knew to ask God's help based upon His love. It motivates our God in the same way it does any good father. It's not something we think of often, but those who wrong us might just want to watch out. Vengeance belongs to the Lord, and when it comes to His kids, He isn't willing to let them be treated poorly for long. And even when it looks like the enemy wins, let a little time pass and see. There have been several times in my life when "what came around went around" in a way that could only be my Father's doing. When I'm hurt to the core, so is He. Never think our Father turns His head while we go through the fire. And if the fire is part of the plan, He will walk around in it with us!

Preciousness takes off the coat of shame we might be wearing. When we know that we are indeed a rare jewel, a coveted treasure and a valuable child to our heavenly Father, we must trade shame for wonder. Adopted into His family at unfathomable cost to Him, the Father isn't willing to let us be toyed with and crushed. Zechariah continues his vision of God in Chapter 2 this way: "Be silent, everyone, in the presence of the Lord! He is coming out of the holy place where He lives!"
Sounds a little like, "Just wait until your father gets home!" Calling out to the Most High God, Who is also our Father, is a big deal. He's made it so. Expect Him to save you.

He says, "Don't be afraid, because I have saved you. I have called you by name, and you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you. When you cross rivers, you will not drown. When you walk through fire, you will not be burned, nor will the flames hurt you. This is because I, the Lord, am your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior...Because you are precious to Me, because I give you honor and love you, I will give other people in your place. I will give other nations to save your life...I have always been God. No one can save people from My power. When I do something, no one can change it!" Isaiah 43

That's my Abba!

PSALM 109 - What in the World Are You Doing Here?

But You, O Lord, be kind to me so others will know You are good. Because Your love is good, save me. I am poor and helpless and very sad. I am dying like an evening shadow. I am shaken off like a locust. My knees are weak from hunger, and I have grown thin. My enemies insult me. They look at me and shake their heads.  (Verses 21-25)

 Understand this: If the enemy is trying to fight you, he's also trying to fight your God. So stand firm. You are not alone in this.  Pastor T. D. Jakes

Elijah had just seen the Almighty God reveal Himself in fire, consuming not only the sacrifice before Him, but the wood, stones and dust as well as "licking up the water that was in the trench." The prophets of Baal tried for hours to persuade their gods to show themselves. To no avail. But Elijah's God answered immediately when Elijah prayed: "Let it be known this day that you are God in Israel, and that I am your servant!" Whoosh! The absolute obliteration of the water-soaked altar and all that was around it. Drought was the issue. No rain for years. And nothing in that moment still but clear blue skies. Elijah declared to King Ahab that there would be rain soon, then the prophet took his servant to the top of Mount Carmel where he bowed down with his face between his knees and prayed for rain. To his servant he said, "Go look out toward the sea and tell me what is there." Nothing. Seven times Elijah repeated this. Finally, "There is a little cloud the size of a man's hand rising from the sea, sir." And the sky grew black with clouds and wind and a deluge followed. God was faithful to do what He said. Elijah, a mighty man of faith. So why did he find himself running scared into the desert?

Mad that her prophets of Baal were slaughtered on Mount Carmel, Queen Jezebel swore to kill Elijah. He was afraid of her and ran. Even after what he'd just seen God do. Surely Elijah was weary, emotionally drained and just not up for one more battle. A day's journey out into the wilderness, he sat down under a big tree and prayed to die. "I've had enough, Lord. Just kill me." Then he fell asleep. An angel fed him. And he slept some more. When he awoke, the angel was there with more food and the message, "Get up and eat because you have a long journey." Yeah. Forty days and forty nights to Mount Horeb where God wanted a tete a tete. A hard journey. Almost too great for him.

"What are you doing here, Elijah?" God's question to the wiry prophet holed up in a mountain top cave.

"I'm so sick of the people who crush Your altars and kill the prophets! They've forsaken You and I'm the only one left...the only prophet in Israel, and now they are going to kill me, too!"

"Go out and stand on the mountain before Me," said the Lord. A terrifying wind tore the mountain and broke the rocks around Elijah. But God wasn't in it. After that the mountain began shaking violently, the ground beneath the prophets feet shifting and perilous. But God wasn't in that, either. Fire erupted, shooting flames very near Elijah on the broken rocks. But God wasn't there, either. It was the sound of a low whisper that finally caused the prophet to cover his face in terror and stand trembling at the entrance of his hiding place. "What are you doing here, Elijah?" The low-toned whisper of His God.

Again the whining response. I think as I write that surely I wouldn't be giving God the same answer to a question He asks me the second time. I'd have understood the massive display of His power, not only on Mount Horeb, but also on Mount Carmel. And angels feeding, me! I mean, really! But Elijah knew his God. Answered once more, "I'm all alone here."

God didn't address the whining. If Elijah didn't know what he was doing in the cave, God did. Instead of saying, "You poor thing. So sorry I put you into such a harrowing position," He said, "You're not done." And God told Elijah what to do next. Including giving Elisha to him as an apprentice. The prophet who would take his place. "And, by the way, Elijah," continued the Lord. "There are seven thousand people in Israel who haven't bowed down to Baal or kissed his statue."

I have been crushed by life. Many of us have. Skinny from the warfare. Barely able to stand. Once confident and lively, I have also felt that I was thrown off in shame as if I were a grasshopper whose legs had attached irritatingly to someone's blouse. Heartbroken, poor and needy. Emptied of former joy. Seeing life as a shadow, vacuous and thin. And I ran, too. Whining my misery. Self-talk that aided my ability to feel sorry for myself. Isolated me. Here's the thing. I'd seen God do the miraculous. Knew Him to be faithful. I'd seen the impossibly blue sky turn to the rain for which I'd prayed. Led many people from the feet of their Baals to the throne of my God. So what was I doing in despair?

Perhaps Elijah was growing accustomed to God showing up in the big showy miracles. Fire from heaven and the raising of a widow's son from the dead. Called to bring the people of God to a place of repentance, which didn't even happen after the fiery altar was consumed, Elijah thought he'd failed. No big revival. No mass conviction of sin. Only he loved God anymore. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much God did to prove Himself, the people just wouldn't listen. But God...not always in the fire, earthquake or wind...speaks the whisper that makes us tremble. The reminder He is there speaking, and He doesn't need the show. He simply needs our ear.

Perhaps in the desert in which I found myself, running off my desolation, always beating my path to nowhere with my God running in step along with me, it would have been prudent to pause away from the trembling mountains and blazing fires to contemplate how powerful He is and always has been. To stop. Dead still. And listen to Him. To realize it's not my battles I'm fighting, but His. To understand that I'm not responsible for the victories or for the results. He is. And if I'm weary and despondent, I've forgotten that God doesn't want to be about shaking mountains and licking up fire from the altars of my righteousness. He wants relationship. To whisper His will and confirm His presence. I will grow weary thinking how I will live day to day in this world that's so difficult to navigate if I think God's counting on me to do it in my own power. On Mount Horeb, the only truly awesome thing Elijah experienced, what made him hide his face, was the whisper of His God. More powerful, more ominous, more awe-inspiring than the fiercest storm. The God of All gently asking, "What are you doing here?"

 

PSALM 109 - That Kiss! That Kiss!

Appoint a wicked man against him. Let an accuser stand at his right hand. When he is tried, let him come forth guilty. Let his prayer be counted as sin! May his days be few and may another take his office. May his children be fatherless and his wife a widow! May his children wander about and beg, seeking food from the ruins they inhabit! May the creditor seize all that he has. May strangers plunder the fruits of his toil!...May his posterity be cut off. May his name be blotted out in the second generation! May the sins of his fathers be remembered before the Lord and let not the sin of his mother be blotted out! Let them be continually before the Lord, that He may cut off the memory of them from the earth! Because he did not remember to show kindness, but pursued the poor and needy and the brokenhearted to put them to death.
(Verses 6-11;13-16)

"The Son of Man goes as it is written of Him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that man if he had not been born." Judas, who would betray Him, asked, "Is it I, Lord?" He said to him, "You have said so." Matthew 26

That Passover evening only Jesus knew it was the last time He'd be with the disciples in quite this way. He'd be dead in the next few hours, crucified and desolate. Betrayed by one of the men He'd loved and prayed with. His work would be finished. The ultimate Passover Lamb sacrificed for these fishermen and tax collectors, for the sons of thunder, and doubting Thomas. Jesus knew each  man intimately. The sound of their voices. The smell of their sweat. Their wives and children. Their hopes and dreams. And after this night, nothing would ever be the same between them. His time on earth completed. They would all be different tomorrow. So this night was the Master's farewell.

Jesus got up from the Passover dinner and took off His coat. He took the towel, placed by the washbowl, and tied it around His waist. The disciples, busy with dinner chatter, didn't really notice Jesus until He poured water into the basin and carried it over to them. The sight of Him silenced the group. What in the world is He doing? Jesus knelt then. Took the foot of Thomas, maybe, as it lay stretched out in front of him while he reclined to eat on the floor. One by one, Jesus dipped the feet of the disciples into the clean water then wiped them with the towel that hung from His waist. When Jesus finished the foot washing, He sat back and said to them, "Not all of you are clean." He didn't look at Judas. But Judas knew. He'd known for quite some time. Money was his god. He'd been stealing from the offerings given to the twelve. Thought ministry was for gain. Believed Jesus was going to be some big ruler and he'd be in on the ground floor. But things hadn't worked out that way. So when the Jewish leaders offered a bounty to the one who brought Jesus in, Judas negotiated for thirty pieces of silver. After all, he'd given up his job to follow the man. And for what? Everyone following Him blindly. They'd become hunted along with Jesus. Judas wasn't about to lose his head because He followed some Nazarene Who promised a kingdom that was never going to manifest. He was done with it.

"One of you is going to betray Me." Jesus looked around the table at all of them. It was on His heart. It had to have been. How could they see what they'd seen--the blind eyes opened, the deaf able to hear, the brokenhearted salved, the demon-possessed freed, the hungry fed, the seas calmed and the dead raised--and still not know? Still not love Him? Jesus human, with a heart like ours. Surely He mourned the traitor. "I will dip the bread into wine and give the man a bite." And the eyes of Jesus turned in pain to the steady gaze of Judas. "Go do what you have to do," Jesus whispered. And His betrayer crept into the night.

The others didn't understand. Jesus frequently sent Judas out to purchase necessities for the group. Thought that's where he was going. But with every footfall, Judas was closer to the riches that already burned a whole in his moneybag. Obsessed with what he'd spend it on. Tired of walking all over the countryside living like a beggar. Assured in his heart that Jesus wasn't ever going to be king of anything. Agreeing with the accusations that had started early on in his head. The enemy of his soul prepping the son of Simon Iscariot to believe a lie about the Son of God, to plant so deeply within him a sense of his own entitlement that Judas was willing to kill the One Who loved him. Satan found a patsy in the group. Laughed as the pitiful thing panted for his prize as he ran down the streets of Jerusalem on Passover night. A pawn in the plan to destroy God's Son. Better had he never been born.

Judas assembled some men from the temple guard. Gave them instructions. "The one I will kiss is the man. Seize him and lead him away under guard. Are we clear on this?" And they went across the Kidron Brook.

The Garden of Gethsemane was a favorite place for Jesus. He and the twelve often went there to talk and pray. Judas knew He'd be there.  It suddenly flooded with light as soldiers carrying weapons accompanied the officers from the chief priests and the Pharisees. Jesus was sweating with the anguish of His prayers while the disciples lay sleeping nearby. Awakened by the noise, confused by the troops, the men rose quickly to their feet and were perplexed to see Judas standing there. Everything stopped. Seemed like time itself stood still. Before they could gather their thoughts, Jesus stepped out of the darkness. Judas came toward Jesus. The torch light followed him, lighting his face, revealing a half-smile, not sinister. Playing his part coolly. Having to look into the eyes of Jesus should have made betrayal more difficult, but the heart of Judas was hardened to his cause. The voice of the enemy loud in his ears. The jangle of money hot in his pocket. "Rabbi!" Judas exclaimed as if meeting a beloved friend. As he approached Jesus, ready to embrace Him, Jesus said with a hint of wonder in His voice, "Would you betray Me with a kiss, Judas?" Cynical. Deceived. No answer but his lips on the cheek of Jesus

"Friend, do what you came to do," Jesus whispered into the traitor's ear. And Judas melted into the chaos that ensued. Ran away into the darkness with coins jingling the rhythm of his retreat against his aching thigh. It wasn't until the next morning when Jesus was condemned to death that Judas understood the consequences of his devilish plan. What did he think would happen? Was he so blinded by the purse that he couldn't see beyond it? Hunkering back in the crowd the next morning, Judas was there when Jesus was brought out by the chief priests bound and headed to Pilate for a declaration of his guilt and a sentence of death. Satan left him then. Allowed him to bear the ramifications of his own guilt. No blinders. Just sneering demons and the stench of hell. And Judas came to himself. Realized what he'd done. Flooded with memories of meals together, parables on the hillside, slaps on the back, fish overflowing nets, wine at weddings and the question from the night before, "Would you betray me with a kiss?"

He hung himself then. Tried to give the money back. The priests wouldn't take it. Blood money. Too righteous to take back the money they'd given in their hatred. Bought a cemetery for strangers. Judas sold his soul for thirty pieces of silver. Betrayed the God of the Universe. But here is what I know. He could've been forgiven. Had he not gone so far past repentance. Had he really understood Who he betrayed. Because Peter was also standing there in the same courtyard when the priests brought Jesus handcuffed out into the early ember-scented morning. Saw the sorrow in His eyes. Understood the depth of his betrayal. Both men not worth keeping as friends. Miserably self-centered. Disappointing and weak. And Jesus knew they were flesh. Knew the enemy is a liar. Knew the cross would change all that. Went on into Pilate's quarters when He could've called ten thousand legions of angels to rescue Him. Understood when He looked into the eyes of the two men He'd chosen to be His closest friends that unless He paid for the sins of the night, they'd forever be locked in the chains of the enemy.

We are doomed as the enemy of the psalmist must be. It is the right judgment on us. Sinners by nature. Selfish to the core. The risen Lord set things right for Judas and for us. Made a way for Peter to live the life he couldn't live. So that there is no sin too great for His blood to wash away. No pit too deep for Him to rescue us from. No lie too entrenched for Him to undo.  When we were unable to help ourselves, at the moment of our need, Christ died for us, although we were living against God. Very few people will die to save the life of someone else. Although perhaps for a good person someone might die. But God shows His great love for us this way: Christ died for us while we were still sinners. So through Christ we will surely be saved from God's anger, because we've been made right with God by the blood of Christ's death (Romans 5).

There is nothing His blood cannot cleanse. Nothing. It is holy, sacrificial Lamb's blood. It purchases forgiveness for everything or nothing, for it's priceless. If you think you've gone too far, you're eons out of His reach, you've listened too long to the tapes recorded in your mind, produced and directed by the enemy of your soul, turn back. Run to Him as Peter did. Jesus wouldn't have given up on Judas. The final lie he believed doomed him to death just hours before the Truth was to set Him free.