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.






 

PSALM 109 - The Ring of Fire

God, I praise You. Do not be silent. Wicked people and liars have spoken against me. They have told lies about me. They have said hateful things about me and attack me for no reason. They attacked me even though I loved them and prayed for them. I was good to them, but they repay me with evil. I loved them, but they hate me in return.  (Verses 1-5)

Peter. Jesus named him that. Because he was a rock. Solid. Just the kind of man Jesus knew would obstinately follow Him anywhere. "You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God!" Peter had proclaimed it. Verbalized it before the rest even had the depth of understanding to grasp exactly Who this Man they followed really was. "Flesh and blood didn't reveal this to you, Peter. My Father showed you this. You are a rock. And on this rock, I'll build my church."

I'm a rock! Jesus named me Rock. Cool. And so Peter tried to fulfill the name. Walking on water. Trying on the moniker. "Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to test all of you as a farmer sifts wheat. I have prayed that you will not lose your faith! Help your brothers be stronger when you come back to Me."

Come back to Him? What? "I'm ready to go to prison or even die with You!" Come back to Him. I'm not going anywhere!

"Three times, Peter, you are going to deny you even know me before sunup tomorrow."

To prove he wasn't lying, Peter drew his sword in the Garden of Gethsemane. Judas was there, kissing Jesus. The kiss of death, confusing and swift. Jesus was surrounded by armed men ready to take Him away. "Lord, should I kill these guys?" Peter, in the process drawing one of the two swords the disciples had brought with them. Malchus, one of the guards of the high priest was near. Ready to grab Jesus. Almost without thinking, Peter sliced off his ear.

"Stop!" cried Jesus. "Enough!" And He picked up the ear from the garden's dewy grass and put it back in place on the servant's head. Perplexing to Peter. Trying to live up to his name. To be the support Jesus needed. And he somehow got it wrong.

Peter followed at a distance when all but John and he fled the garden in fear for their own lives. The soldiers started a fire in the courtyard and waited. Peter sidled over for the warmth. "Hey, that man was with them!" said a girl as she came near to look him in the face.

"Woman, I don't even know Him." Peter's stomach churned with the lie.

Not long afterward another person recognized Peter as a disciple as he walked near the circle of blazing coals. "You were one of them." The man peered into the disciple's eyes, searched them. "Man, I'm not!" Firm. A rock now cracked.

A group of men strolled close an hour or so later. Peter was still sitting there. Conflicted. Wanting to be something he now knew he clearly wasn't. How could he have denied even knowing Jesus? What had gotten into him? "For sure this man was with Him! Look, he's from Galilee, too!" said one of the men as they came near Peter, trapping him in the ring they formed around him. He felt unable to breathe. Stood and pushed them away. He cursed at them, then declared too loudly, "Man, I don't even know what you're talking about!"

Then the rooster crowed. Heralding daylight. In the commotion, Peter missed it. Jesus being led out of His inquisition by guards. The words of denial had barely left his mouth when he turned to Jesus, stopped still for a moment. Looking at him as he cursed and screamed his betrayal. Their eyes locked. And the Rock was crushed into powder. Ran and hid. The pain of understanding he is just a man, capable of the most cruel behavior, wanting to save his own hide rather than be faithful to the One Who loved Him and prayed for him sent Peter away, crying hysterically. Shamed beyond bearing. Jesus heard his every word. How could Simon ever be Peter again?

I suppose knowing that Peter was going to betray Him didn't make it hurt less when Jesus caught the glimpse of his disciple angrily disowning their friendship. I guess the best that could be said of Peter is that at least he and John followed. Peter thought he had what it took to be a rock. Satan had spoken to Jesus about him. Let's see what he's really made of. A rock...pshaw! He's not even a pebble.

Not there for the moment of His death, too ashamed to look on a suffering Savior. Peter alone somewhere, disgusted with himself, anguishing not only over the depth of his betrayal, but also over the pain he'd caused Jesus. How could Jesus ever look him in the face again? Wailing in the earthquake, shivering in the darkness, Simon was only Simon. Nothing more.

Sunday morning. In the garden tomb. A group of women approach the entrance and discover the stone rolled away. An angel sitting there. They were scared to death. Couldn't move. Couldn't fathom what they saw. "Don't be afraid. You are looking for Jesus from Nazareth, Who has been crucified. He has risen from the dead. He isn't here." The angel moved aside and showed them the empty cave. "See! That's where they laid Him." As the women marveled, the angel told them, "Now go and tell His followers...and Peter."

And Peter. Singled out not by his denial. Not called Simon. Go tell the rock he's still a rock. Jesus deemed it so and Satan can't steal from us what God has called us to be. Not when Jesus is praying against our enemy. At the seaside eating fish many days later, Jesus says: "Simon, do you love me? The way I love you? With agape?"

"You know you are my dear, dear friend," replied Simon. Not yet ready to be Peter and declare undying devotion. Knowing by then he's not all that! Capable of sin. Capable of shame.

Three times he's asked the question. Three times Jesus makes him say, "I love you." Three denials. Three affirmations. "Peter, follow me." 

And he will. To his own crucifixion. But not before the church is built. Not until the Spirit has come to indwell a bawdy fisherman with a big heart, a big mouth and a bigger destiny. Saved because Jesus said, "..and Peter."

And...me.  And...you. Incapable of living authentically without Him. Only able to be what He knows we can be because He's named us something different than what our lives have defined us to be. Clinging to what we always have been instead of embracing who He says we are. But Jesus has called my name. Reached past my stuff to say I can be more. Forgiven the days I turned away while my Savior watched my unfaithfulness. Let me cry my remorse. Accentuated in the darkness, trying to hide from the eyes that find me even there. How could Jesus then reach to me in love? Call me by my name? Embrace me as His own? "Follow Me." It's all I want to do.