Monday, March 31, 2014

PSALM 119 - Doggies and Lambs

Let me cry before You, O Lord. Give me understanding according to Your word! Let my plea come before You. Deliver me according to Your word. My lips will pour forth praise because You teach me Your statutes. My tongue will sing of Your word, for all Your commandments are right. Let Your hand be ready to help me, for I have chosen Your precepts. I long for Your salvation, O Lord, and Your law is my delight. Let my soul live and praise You, and let Your rules help me. I have gone astray like a lost sheep. Look for me, for I don't forget Your commandments.   (Verses 169-176)

"What do you think? If a man has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go in search of the one that went astray? And if he finds it, truly I say to you, he rejoices over it more than the ninety-nine that never went astray. So it is not the will of my Father in heaven that one of these little ones should perish."  Jesus, Matthew 18

We gave our dogs away when we moved to Riverside, California, in 1976. Our daughters were still very young and missed their pets. In response to Heather's constant question about when we were going to get another dog, I answered an ad that promised a darling five-year-old Lhasa Apso named Sidney. It took some adjusting for him. He'd been with the other family since he was born. But we stroked him, brushed him, played with him and walked him...and fed him, I'm sure the important thing in his doggie mind. But that little mind couldn't figure out what happened when we went back to Texas for Christmas and left him in the hands of a neighborhood teenager who forgot to let him back into the house one afternoon. Sidney panicked. Big time. Left abandoned and alone, the dog pretty much climbed the low back fence and headed out only God knows where. Sidney certainly didn't.

We returned late in the evening from our Christmas trip to find our home devoid of dog. We all panicked. The lateness of the hour didn't keep me from calling the young woman, and, trying to control my racing heart, asking her, if, well, she had any idea where our dog might be. Lost. He was lost, she said. She'd looked everywhere. Called the pound. Sidney had a collar with his information on it. They'd called the former owner. This I found out after a sleepless night of worry and mounting guilt.

"We found him running along the freeway," the pound worker told me. Running back to his old home. That was the general direction of Sidney's escape route. Some interior guidance system or just coincidence. I don't know. But when I saw him, I was devastated. Our doggie's beautiful golden hair was matted and filled with burrs and tiny sticks. There was a bloodied bump on his head near his eye and he was shaking with fear. Quaking with fear. I couldn't tell if Sidney was glad to see me or not. He did recognize me and tried to wag his pathetic tail. All I could do was stand there and cry. Our little lost pet had been through the ringer. "Is he okay to hold?" I asked. "Is he...broken?"

"No, ma'am," replied the young man helping me with the paperwork. "The dog seems to have come through it okay."

I held Sidney in my arms to quiet the quivering of his little body and stroked him while he whined his grief. Lost, alone and disoriented, he'd taken quite a beating. I drove home with him in my lap, took him inside then and drew a warm bath. I cut the dried blood and matted hair from his face while he looked mournfully at me. I did all this with tears streaming down my face. I could only imagine what he'd seen for the week of his lost-ness.

I have been astray. Run away in pain unspeakable to God only knew where. A lost sheep. We will finally get caught in some bramble or other. Stuck there to wait for our salvation. Like the psalmist, I yelled, "Look for me! O, Jesus, look for me!" 

If you think you've gone too far out. If you think He stopped caring about you years ago...or two minutes ago...you are wrong. If you ran in panic to another love. Drank from a wine goblet that has now turned your stomach and left you inebriated and confused. You are still worth finding. If you shook your fist in His face and left because you were disappointed, you are still loved, because Jesus doesn't want you to live or die without Him. The Good Shepherd knows His sheep by name (John 10) and gave His life to shepherd us home. Yes, Jesus will probably have to clean you up a bit. He might even remind you that staying near Him would be a good idea next time you are confused or heartbroken. But, trust me, He will bind up your broken heart and ease the quaking of your soul. Because He came to seek and to save what is lost. You may have gone a long way out...have a long way to go back...but you won't go it alone.

He will tend His flock like a shepherd. He will gather the lambs in His arms and carry them in His bosom, and gently lead those who are with young.  Isaiah 40

Thursday, March 27, 2014

PSALM 119 - Hey, Where's the Map?

 Leaders attack me for no reason, but I fear Your law in my heart. I am as happy over Your promises as if I had found a great treasure. I hate and despise lies, but I love Your teachings. Seven times a day I praise You for Your fair laws. Those who love Your teachings will find true peace, and nothing will defeat them. I am waiting for You to save me, Lord. I will obey Your commands. I obey Your rules, and I love them very much. I obey Your orders and rules because You know everything I do.  (Verses 161-168)

God is greater than our hearts, and He knows everything.  1 John 3

I always used to wonder how my mother knew things I'd done that she didn't see me do. Wrong things, usually. "I have eyes in the back of my head," she'd say. Then I became a mother and grew a pair of those eyes, too. It's that connection with your kids that renders a prescience about their activities. But it's not really so magical as it used to seem to me or my kids. The truth of the matter is I was bigger than they, smarter than they and watching them more carefully than they thought. A two-year-old is pretty predictable, too. Steady by then on chubby legs, she will, without doubt, be rummaging through all the stuff she could only look at and covet touching before she could actually get to it. It's just in the nature of things that kids will test boundaries because they now have them in the mobile, fascinating world of walking about. Three-year-olds are faster. A little smarter. Understand a few of their boundaries and step over them just to see what happens. In our home, it happened fast! Of course, the bigger the kid, the harder it is to always see where they are or what they're doing. If, by the time our children are driving around instead of toddling, we haven't instilled boundaries in them so that they become the child's boundaries, also, we will be awake lots and lots of very long nights.

This world is dangerous. A labyrinth of wrong turns and scary creatures popping up to scare us to death. No longer do we navigate the living room of our home on unsteady legs. Our world is now the universe and we are in it to decide what direction we will go. Without running into the walls or falling off the edge of a cliff. How is that possible? Everywhere we go are beggars wanting us to take care of them or charlatans wanting us to buy into their various medications to ease the pain of the journey. It's a macrocosm and we are but a tiny speck maneuvering around it. It seems to me we need a map. Guidelines for living that keep us safe. So that when we find ourselves lost and alone we can check it for the way out. Or in. Or through. Imagine how relieved you'd be if you felt hopelessly lost and then your GPS kicked in to show you the way home. Whew! You'd want to kiss the map. It then becomes a "treasure map."

How is it then that we think we can navigate this world without God's help? He sees everything, all at once. And not just the physical stuff, but the way things work, the heart of each person, the past, present and future, and how it all plays out. He knows, from beginning to end, the plan and how best to walk in these troubled times. Do you? I don't. I need Him. God is so much bigger than I was to my children. The comparison is almost silly except it's all I have. The Father's realm is far, far more immense than the earthly parameters my rules for our kids set. He knows we have to get out there and make life happen in the vastness that exists under heaven. That's why God didn't leave us without a navigation system. Certain rules of the road without which we are certain to crash. Pretty loving of Him, isn't it? And when you think of all the people who refuse the assistance, like a husband who won't stop at the service station to ask for directions, it's no wonder we are all careening into each other's lives, wreaking havoc.

Peace is hard to come by in our world. We have so many reasonable facsimiles, synthetics, that mask our need for it. If we drink enough, take enough drugs, work hard enough, make enough money, get enough power, find a person who makes us think we are loved...name it, the panacea...we can for a short time forget that we are, interiorally, messed up and off course. That's why the map, the directions, are so handy. We might have driven headlong into the far country where we find ourselves, but God's directions will get us out. It might be quite the road trip, but we can use the map, kiss it's wisdom like we've found great treasure, and get on down the path blowing bubbles in the back seat while our Father drives the car!


 

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

PSALM 119 - Mercy, mercy me!

Look on my affliction and deliver me, for I do not forget Your law. Plead my cause and redeem me. Give me life according to Your promise! Salvation is far from the wicked, for they do not seek Your statutes. Great is Your mercy, O Lord. Give me life according to Your rules. Many are my persecutors and my adversaries, but I do not swerve from Your testimonies. I look at the faithless with disgust, because they do not keep Your commands. Consider how I love Your precepts! Give me life according to Your steadfast love. The sum of Your word is truth, and every one of Your righteous rules endures forever. (Verses 153-160)

Mercy triumphs over judgment.    James 2

She lived next door to us for the six weeks we were in Atlanta. Her long fingernails were painted red, her hair was dyed a bright blond, and her t-shirts were cut very low. She had a rather foul mouth and a bawdy sense of humor. Her two kids played with my two kids. And so it began. The conversations about Jesus. My neighbor didn't disgust me, though she certainly didn't keep God's laws. I loved her. Fed her kids lunch and took them to the park with mine. But God knew I didn't have much time. I'd known her only a couple of weeks before she asked Jesus into her heart. She was really hungry for Him. Like she'd been waiting all her adult life for someone to move in next door and tell her about God's love. At first, nothing much changed. Hair, nails, clothes, cursing. By God's grace, I didn't judge her, though. I knew God had changed me. I hadn't changed myself. So we prayed together every day despite the fact she didn't look like a Christian yet. One morning she came over for coffee wearing a different kind of t-shirt. No cleavage. And her fingernails were cut and painted a light pink. (Not that red fingernails are a sign of anything. I love red fingernails!) That was the first thing I noticed. "You changed your nail polish!" I said in surprise. "I couldn't look at them any more. The long red fingernails," she said, as she held her hands out for me to see. "And I don't feel right about my clothes any more, either. It's like something's changed inside of me."

I'm wondering this morning where my friend would be today if I'd written her off at first blush. Thought how disgusting her clothes and short shorts. Thinking I wouldn't defile my kids with hers because they weren't Christians. Thought to myself how I was better than she because, after all, I go to church. I could have.  And I think the spirit of this psalm could be misrepresented to say we Christians should be thinking like that. What I've discovered is that most people know when they are doing wrong things. Pointing it out to them simply makes them defensive. It makes all of us defensive. So what is this disgust the psalmist feels? Is it toward the world without Christ or is it toward those who know Him and leave? Who trust in their own goodness to save them?

The woman at the well had been married five times and the man she was with wasn't her husband. The woman found in the very act of adultery knew she was guilty when the religious men picked up stones to throw at her. When Jesus cast the demons out of the crazed man in the country of the Gerasenes, the man knew he'd been delivered from something very evil. The lepers Jesus touched were so unclean they had to live separately from the rest of society. Touching them made the religious socially and physically soiled, too. Disgusting. All of them. The pure walked on the other side of the street. Pulled water from the well at a different time of day. Bloodied the dust around the temple with the residue of stonings that made everything all right again. Religion. Haughty and unforgiving. Purging sinners ever more deeply into sin. But Jesus touched them. How could He judge them when they didn't know? After all, Jesus came into the world to save it, not condemn it (John 3:16-17). So it was that Jesus told the story of the sinner and the saint. Two men went to church to pray. One was a despised tax collector whose profession made it easy for him to cheat people. Hated by everyone. Worse than the IRS. This man had big sin problems. The other man? A pillar of the church. A teacher in the local temple. A man spotless in reputation. He climbed the temple steps, elevated himself upon the great porch and stood praying aloud to God. "God, I thank you that I'm not disgusting like those who are unjust, extortioners, adulterers, or.." and the man looked down at the tax collector praying at the bottom of the steps..."even like this tax collector." As the man continued in prayer, he commended himself to God. "I fast twice a week when I only have to once a year. I give tithes of all that I get." Love me, God, because I'm so perfect.

The tax collector couldn't even look to heaven. So aware was he that he wasn't good enough for God. And hearing the loud prayer of the self-righteous man humbled him further. The godly man was right. He was a better person than the IRS agent. Deeply aware of his need for mercy, the man beat his chest and cried out in his desperation, "God, be merciful to me, a sinner!"

It was the tax collector who went home justified, said Jesus. Why? Because he understood what the self-righteous church-goer didn't. It's God's mercy that saves us. God's not pleased when we stand before Him pointing out how great we are, and especially not when we compare our piety with someone else's sinfulness. If we don't know we are all saved by grace, we won't extend it to others
The only thing Jesus found to be disgusting was the judgment of the righteous toward the sinner. Because God's heart is to save...to seek and to save...that which is lost (Luke 19:10).

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

PSALM 119 - She Didn't Tell Him She Was Dying...

With my whole heart I cry. Answer me, O Lord! I will keep Your statutes. I call to You. Save me that I may observe Your testimonies. I rise before dawn and cry for help. I hope in Your words. My eyes are awake before the watches of the night, that I may meditate on Your promise. Hear my voice according to Your steadfast love. O Lord, according to Your justice, give me life. They draw near who persecute me with evil purpose. They are far from Your law. But You are near, O Lord, and all Your commandments are true. Long have I known from Your testimonies that You have founded them forever.  (Verses 145-152)

He told me his mother used to sit by the window all night looking out at the streets. That she often had this really sad look on her face that he felt responsible for erasing somehow. She was dying, but she didn't let him know that because he was only eight. Jay (not his real name) thought all mothers had a wig and sometimes stayed in bed for days. It was his world. Cathette, his mother, was my best friend. Though she lived a thousand miles away, we were always close. I went to visit her right before she died of the breast cancer that ultimately ravaged the rest of her body, too. She and her husband adopted two sons after her initial diagnosis and the aftermath of chemotherapy and radiation stole her chances of conceiving children on her own. The boys were young when the cancer returned. I spoke with my beautiful friend on that visit a few months before she died. "Have you talked to the boys about your death?" I asked. "No." Tears sparkled in her eyes. "No, I haven't." The reason, it seems, is that if she had spoken to them it would mean she'd given up. That then it would be reality.

So when she died, Jay, the elder of the sons, was devastated. It completely blindsided him, though she'd lain in a coma for many, many days before she left this world to be with Jesus. His father took him to counseling. Tried to understand what made his son act out. But counseling didn't help. Jay refused to communicate. A couple of years later, the three of them came out to California for a visit and stayed with us. We did the usual southern California things like Disneyland, but it was a day in the San Jacinto Mountains that lay snow-covered and ominous above the blistering heat of Palm Springs that changed Jay's heart forever. We rode the tram to the walking trails that are carved out between the massive pines and firs that cover the mountain and perfume the air. "Tell me, how did you know my mom?" he asked as we walked alone together up an easy trail. "I met her on our first day as teachers," I responded. Then I told him of her gorgeous thick brown hair and impossibly deep dimples, and how she was as tall as I am. How we looked across the room where orientation was going on and both of us knew we'd made a friend...for life."

I told Jay how his mother yearned for marriage and children and saw me through the births of all three of mine. How she found out she had cancer the day I found out I was pregnant with our son. Gushed, really, about what an amazing friend she was. How I loved her. How happy I was when she got married. How devastated when the first news of her cancer rocked her life before her first wedding anniversary. How she called me with the news that she had a boy! Born on my birthday! Jay. Joy in the morning. The answer to years of praying by the window through the night.

Then he spilled his heart. He couldn't stop talking about all he'd felt. About how he thought he could've saved her. Didn't know she was dying. Wanted a mother who would play at the park instead of just watching him. Because...because he didn't know she was so sick. If only he'd known...And there it was. The guilt that had been eating him for many grieving months. He could've been a better son. He wished he could tell her that.

The gift I could give him was that I knew what his mother was praying for as she sat by the window in the watches of the night when she arose before dawn to cry out for God's help. She'd told me on that visit of the sleepless, seemingly endless nights when she contemplated her death. How it would be for the boys. For her husband. How they would go forward without her. How she could think to let them. "But I'm praying now for their comfort. For them to be strong and survive." She choked up, of course, talking about it. "That someone will be there to help them understand because I can't."

Jay was still talking about his feelings two hours later back at our house as we got food ready to cook out. He helped in the kitchen and set the table, all the while asking questions and revealing, for the first time, all he thought. "Why didn't you tell the counselor all of this?" I asked.

"Because she didn't know my mother."

It was clear in that moment to both Jay and to me that God was answering Cathette's nighttime pleas. The comfort her son needed. All she tried to visualize as the tears spilled down her cheeks before the sun came up. God took her son a thousand miles from home to get the comfort he needed. "She loved you so much, Jay. She didn't want to leave you. That's why she didn't tell you she was dying. Hoping beyond hope that the Father she spoke to at midnight would decide to heal her. Let her stay here." We sat down on the back porch waiting for the chicken to grill. It was where I sat when I last heard Cathette's voice telling me good-bye. "You were an awesome son, Jay. She left because God called her home to be with Him. And you are here with me because she prayed with all her heart you would be comforted."

Tears glistened in our eyes as we hugged each other. It doesn't always go the way we hope when we plead with God to save us. But He is always near and the testimonies of His steadfast love are forever. And into forever. Where Cathette is today, whole and shining. Knowing as she is known. No more tears or sickness. Answered prayer for her, too. With the God she loves with her whole heart. The end of a victorious journey into unimaginable glory. And Jay? He's doing just fine.

 

Monday, March 24, 2014

PSALM 119 - You Still Standing?

Righteous are you, O Lord, and right are Your rules. You have appointed Your testimonies in righteousness and in all faithfulness. My zeal consumes me, because my foes forgot Your words. Your promise is well tried, and Your servant loves it. I am small and despised, yet I do not forget Your precepts. Your righteousness is righteous forever, and Your law is true. Trouble and anguish have found me out, but Your commandments are my delight. Your testimonies are righteous forever. Give me understanding that I may live. (Verses 137-144)

"Everyone who hears these words of Mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain fell, and the floods came, and winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of Mine and does not do them will be like foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it."   Jesus, Matthew 7

I love my friend. I've known her now almost all our lives. Both of us were raised in the Baptist church. Both of us married young. And we both love Jesus with our whole hearts. But that didn't stop the winds coming and the rain pouring down. And the spiritual weather that beat upon my friend's house was brutal. Breast cancer--a ravaging, fast moving storm--laid her in the hospital, after her mastectomy, in an experimental study that would hopefully save her life. It was its own hurricane. A bone marrow transplant that left her eyelashes swimming in her eyes as they fell prey to the chemicals that were another death to her. The cleansing of her blood cells left her immune system compromised. Another storm to weather. I called her the day her lashes fell into her eyes. The day she wondered what all of this was for. Next to her was her husband. Loving her. A masked compadre sitting vigil to her pain. Also sitting there. Jesus. To my friend as real as her husband. And without that Presence her heart might have failed. It walked a thin line in the storm, I know. Because we all want a reason for the winds blowing and beating on the house. Sometimes it must be enough, in the moment, that we are not alone in the maelstrom. My beautiful friend lived. To see her gaggle of grandchildren. How blessed she is these more than twenty-five years later! Her life built on a Rock. Made to weather and endure. Past this life. But when the storms come, if we don't know Whose we are, we might just be taken away in the debris that is left. If we don't know the promises of God to us, haven't been trained by the ups and downs of life to trust that He is good, we will be destroyed.

Pain is the storm. Not just the physical pain of disease, but the gut-wrenching, soul crushing thought that perhaps the winds blow on us because we are unworthy, sinful or unloved. The lights go out in the house, darkness creeps up on us, whispering we will die there, in the storm. That's what happened to me. And to my friend, April (not her real name). Saved from her addictions through a Christian program, she met and married a man much older than she. He'd been married twice before, had grown kids and a poor track record. But he was a Christian graduate of the same program. For a while their marriage seemed to work. His family was wealthy. Pillars of the church. When he and April moved near the extended family, they bought a home and she began a successful business there. But her husband had internet issues. And after over a decade of marriage, left her in an ugly scene. Though she struggled to survive the abandonment, the sandy soil of her relationship with Jesus sent her, in her pain, back to her former medications. Unfortunately, they were unlawful, too. Ironically, it was in jail that she discovered God to be her Rock. He has been miraculously there with and for her. In ways I hope to write about one day soon. Would that she had been more safely anchored to Him in the days of her pain. I know that story all too well from personal experience.

What all three of us knows now, though, is that God's promises are well tried by now. Does He mean it or not when He says we can trust in Him? Have we needed to know that and  found God faithful? Storms are out there brewing for everyone--Christians and non-Christians. We aren't exempt because we know Christ. He wasn't exempt. What makes the difference is where we are anchored in the typhoon. Are we tethered to Him or floundering in a sea of doubt? Our way with Jesus should be marked with testimonies of His faithfulness in sunshine or blizzard. Those times we can remember when things are bleak to assure us He is good and that God loves us. When I know God's promises and I've seen that He fulfills them, it makes the storm endurable because I know I'm anchored to His faithfulness. Jesus said that when I hear the Word and then do it, I will be on solid, immovable ground. Because I've tested it. Not just read it. Not just thought, "Oh, that's a wise saying--a good perspective." The Word of God was never meant to be the sayings of a kindly prophet. The Word of God is bread, life, alive--conversation with the Living God. If He says, "Do this and live!" I should do it. And the more I experience the truth of His words, the more my testimony will be, "Your testimonies are right forever. Help me understand them that I may live!"

Our foundations may quiver in the storm. We might be a little--or a lot--afraid. I remember holding my father-in-law's hand as he lay dying two years ago. The look in his clear blue eyes was far away when he opened them to peer into mine. Like he was trying to see me from someplace in the distance. But he held my hand tightly, like a person dangling from a cliff not wanting to let go. For several hours we sat like that, his large, cooling hand in mine. It wasn't until the last few minutes of his life that Papa eased his grip. Seeing someplace better, I hope. Willing to leave my grasp to take hold of another hand. It reminds me that I hold God's hand that way. Gripping it for strength and the knowledge that I'm loved. Holding on even more tightly in the storms. In life and death, Jesus has me. Has my back. Holds onto me. Under girds the foundations of my life when I totter and doubt. Even if the foundation cracks a bit so that after the storm we need some repair, we can rejoice that we still stand. Steadfast, immovable (1 Corinthians 15). Trouble and anguish may have found me out, but I'm still standing!


 

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

PSALM 119 - New York City In The Dark

Your testimonies are wonderful, therefore my soul keeps them. The unfolding of Your words gives light. It imparts understanding to the simple. I open my mouth and pant, because I long for Your commandments. Turn to me and be gracious to me, as is Your way with those who love Your name. Keep steady my steps according to Your promise, and let no iniquity get dominion over me. Redeem me from man's oppression, that I may keep Your precepts. May Your face shine upon Your servant, and teach me Your statutes. My eyes shed streams of tears, because people do not keep Your law.  (Verses 129-136)

On Thursday, August 14, 2003, Heather, her baby son, Nicholas, and I were on our way to Penn Station in downtown New York City pushing a stroller and dragging our luggage as we hailed a cab. We were going back to Alexandria, Virginia, after a few days of enjoying the city for our joint birthday celebration. Suddenly, the cab driver noticed that all the signal lights weren't working. "That's odd," said Heather. Then she noticed all the neon signs that normally light up the many shops were also dark. "Must be an electrical failure of some sort." Not worried, though, about Penn Station.

The taxi dumped us and all our stuff out at the station and drove off. We couldn't shake the ominous feeling that all looked a bit too dark inside. It was after four in the afternoon. The electricity to the entire city was completely out. Our ride home was going to be delayed. So, we went outside to mill around with every passenger waiting for a train. It was far too dark and far too hot to sit inside. Still almost ninety degrees outside, and muggy. We sat sweating, thinking any minute the electricity would come back on and we'd be on our way. It was dark before we knew for sure that we weren't going anywhere that night. New York City was black by the time we started trying to find our way back to the Marriott where we'd stayed the night before. The blackness panicked New Yorkers. It felt, by then, like another terrorist attack. People began streaming across the bridge and out of harm's way. We, stroller, luggage and all, walked alone in the dark. The very dark. It's hard to describe how black it was because the enormous buildings also closed in on us, blocking stars and moon. No flashlight. Only Heather's great navigation skills (I get lost easily). We were so relieved when we saw, way up in the distance, a tiny light, possibly from a generator, guiding our path. Giving us at least a destination to aim for. Light for our way. Desperate to get off the streets, not knowing what lurked in the crevices of the locked down businesses or in the alleys we kept passing. Desperate for guidance to a safe place. We needed some illumination.

That's what God's Word does for our path in this dark world. Opens up a road that's safe and purposeful. Like Heather, Nicolas and me, the world gropes blindly toward a non-specific goal because they can't see the Truth. They bump into those of us who know Jesus from time to time. Crash into the Light and share our illumination for the moment. We who used to walk in dark are now light, not only a beacon for those searching but a revealer of things done in the dark. So we either rescue or intimidate. At one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of the light (for the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true), and try to discern what is pleasing to the Lord. Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them. For it is shameful even to speak of the things that they do in secret. But when anything is exposed by the light, it becomes visible for anything that becomes visible is light (Ephesians 5).

That's why the unfolding of the Word is wonderful to us. It lightens the path more and more. No longer do we need to shuffle around trying to figure out where to go and what to do. Our path is illumined, and it's so much easier to walk in the light! I yearn for more. Maybe not panted in the physical sense, but surely in my heart. Hungry and thirsty to know my God better, because the more I know about Who He is and what He desires, the brighter things become for me. God's shining face is my ultimate destination, alit with the joy of His love for and favor toward me. It's why I don't want to go astray. Don't want the dominion of darkness any more. If I keep my eyes focused on that face, I won't be looking for the thrills some find in the darkness. They die out there, alone. Wandering around, always needing more and more of their particular addiction to hide the fact that they are wandering blind.

The light we saw that black night was coming from a generator in the Marriott. Full now with people clambering for escape from the darkness. There was nourishment, too. The restaurant chef set up a buffet of all the food that would spoil in the refrigerator and gave it to us free. The dim lighting was a refuge as we crammed our luggage between the hundreds of people and found a space on the floor. Drawn to the hotel like moths to a flame, we weren't the only ones who needed to see in order to be safe. The Marriott was a haven for the lost that night because the light was on. May ours be, also. A haven. May I light up any room into which I walk. Not with any earthly attribute, but with the joy of knowing the indwelling Spirit of the God of All Who permeates the darkest regions of our souls and floods them with the light of His Word. His little light bulb reflecting my Father's glory.

"You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father, Who is in heaven."  Jesus.   Matthew 5


 

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Stuff Happens

I have done what is just and right. Please do not leave me to my oppressors! Give Your servant a pledge of good. Let not the insolent oppress me. My eyes long for Your salvation and the fulfillment of Your righteous promise. Deal with Your servant according to Your steadfast love, and teach me Your statues. I am Your servant. Give me understanding, that I may know Your testimonies! It is time for the Lord to act, for Your law has been broken. Therefore I love Your commandments above gold, fine gold. Therefore I consider all Your precepts to be right. I hate every false way.   (Verses 121-128)

Raised in a Christian home, Jon (not his real name) played by the rules. Didn't drink, smoke or have premarital sex. Married a virgin as a virgin. Believed in following God's statutes and precepts, expecting to receive the blessings of his chastity to the law. But his wife left him for another man. Turned his world upside down. Head spinning, heart crushed, faith destroyed. He'd done it all right and God allowed it all to go to hell. So, if God failed him, Jon, by God, would do whatever felt good. All the things he'd wanted to do but didn't. Sleep around, drink too much and sleep on Sundays when he used to go to church. And in his self-righteous anger, Jon is out to destroy his wife and her new lover. Actively. With great vengeance. Unlike the psalmist, Jon's attitude is, "Your laws have been broken and it's time for me to act because I don't trust You any more to do the right thing!"

Many of us have been raised in the church to trust in our own right living to garner us favor with God. I used to think God loved me because I was such a good little girl. Always wanting to do what He said. Closing my eyes to see God pat me on my little blond head. May I say this? God will dig that out of us if we are His children. It's a completely wrong perception of God's heart. We cannot ever be good enough to merit His favor! If we think we are loved and accepted by God because of our strict adherence to the Ten Commandments, we are serving Him out of a wrong heart. And it's dangerous. Because if we believe all our blessings flow because we are obedient from a heart that stacks up points for our side every time we do something good, and God is weighing our goodness against the few small peccadilloes of our waywardness, we will fall apart when things fall apart. I know. I did. Jon is. And Jon's testing God to see if he will still be loved after he goes to the pit, which is where he will end up because God loves him. Jon still needs his Father. But for the rest of his life Jon needs to know that Jesus loves him because He loves him. Because He is good, not because Jon is.

Our love for God is false if it is attached in any way to our own self-righteousness. Once that has been excavated from our souls, we know what it means to love God because He first loved us and gave Himself for us. If I'm counting on things to go well in my life because I merit it with my excellent behavior, Satan has totally set me up to crash and burn. Things will not always go well in anybody's life. Jon's wife chose to leave him. God didn't choose that. In Jon's heart all along has been the desire to break the rules. This gave him the opportunity to do so. The law begs us to break it! If it had not been for the law, I would not have known sin. For I would not have known what it is to covet if the law had not said, "You shall not covet." But sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, produced in me all kind of covetousness. For apart from the law, sin lies dead...The very commandment that promised life proved to be death to me. For sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, deceived me and through it, killed me (Romans 7). I love the example I heard years ago. The law, rules of faith, demand from us NOT to do something. It's like telling someone NOT to think about a red-faced monkey. Of course, the first thing that enters our minds is a RED-FACED MONKEY! Jesus came to kill that monkey! Dead! And write the rules of His heart onto ours.

The law is flesh. The Spirit makes alive. Our Father, knowing we couldn't keep the law that tells us what we cannot do, gave us His Spirit to teach us what pleases the One Who died for us. We don't follow the Ten Commandments because we want them to make us good enough for God. We follow the precepts of our Father because we love Him for loving us unconditionally. Rules now written on our hearts are "gold, above fine gold." Precious to us in a way we couldn't have understood before we knew God loves us despite our falling short or even in our belief that we don't. But until we are made aware of the fact that we are not rewarded with a problem-free life because we are so right and good, we will be tripped up by the ups and downs of our journey.

Jon's wife is a Christian, too. Messed up by her own emotions, for sure. But God will deal with her. And the pain she's caused Jon is God's to address. When it is "time for the Lord to act" on her betrayal, He will. Maybe when Jon gets out of the way. Looks at his own heart for the reasons he's walked away from his God. The Lord hates false ways. Wants both of these Christians to be children who now long for His salvation from righteousness or from adultery. Each needs its own deliverance.

There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death. For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, He condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit...For the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God's law; indeed it cannot! Those who are in the flesh cannot please God.  Romans 8  (Italics, mine)


 

Monday, March 17, 2014

PSALM 119 - More Than I Could Hope For...

I hate the double-minded, but I love Your law. You are my hiding place and my shield. I hope in Your word. Depart from me, you evildoers, that I may keep the commandments of my God. Uphold me according to Your promise that I may live, and let me not be put to shame in my hope! Hold me up that I may be safe and have regard for Your statutes continually! You spurn all who go astray from Your statutes, for their cunning is in vain. All the wicked of the earth You discard like dross, therefore I love Your testimonies. My flesh trembles for fear of You, and I am afraid of Your judgments.  (Verses 113-120)  Italics, mine.

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Hebrews 11

Hope: to want something to happen or be true and to expect something to happen or be true. The opposite? Despair. Hope moves into faith when we know what we want and hope for is going to happen. What, as Christians kills faith and hope? Expectations. Our own. Calling hope faith when we have no real assurance God will do a specific thing we think He should.

 Peter and John were going to pray in the temple in Jerusalem at three o'clock in the afternoon shortly after their experience of being filled with the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. There is a gate at the temple called the Beautiful Gate because the bronze with which it was made sparkled like fire in the sun. Near the gate was a lame man, settled there by friends and family who had carried him to the temple at its busiest time of day for many years so that he could beg for money. He'd never walked. Not in all of his over forty years. Born with useless legs. He lived off the generosity of those who prayed each day at three. As Peter and John passed by, the man called out, "Please give me an offering!"

It caught Peter's attention. The man calling out, seemingly to anyone who would listen, not just to the two disciples of Jesus. So they stopped. Peter looked at beggar for a minute as he continued to call out to others as if he'd become accustomed to few people actually hearing his plea for money. Used to the fact that most never stopped. Maybe that's why he didn't see Peter and John standing next to him. "Look at us!" Peter said. Only then did the man notice them. Hopeful they would give him money. Hopeful he would get enough for that day to get him through until tomorrow. Hopeful they'd have mercy on his hopeless condition.

"We don't have any money," said Peter. "What I have, though, I'll give to you."

I don't know what despair initially oozed into the man's hope. I don't need anything else. They're wasting my time...in my way. Maybe. Maybe he didn't have time for despair this time. The next thing the man knew, Peter and John seized his right arm. Grabbed him and jerked him to his useless feet! "In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, get up and walk!" He hadn't even hoped for this, much less had faith for it! He didn't go to afternoon prayers to be healed! Remade, really. As he'd never walked! Legs shriveled. Made in a moment muscled and strong! No time to wonder if it would really happen. Standing. Never before a possibility or hope...perhaps a dream, but after forty years...he'd learned to ask only for alms.

How did Peter and John know? They clearly didn't only hope the man would walk, they knew it. I don't have a definitive answer for that, by the way. But I think hope becoming faith is a matter of hearing from God. What if the man hadn't walked? Their hope would've been put to shame. He'd have fallen over in a heap, left to now hope to walk instead of hope for alms. A new expectation brought about by Christians who hoped he'd be well. And there were other beggars at Beautiful Gate. It's where they went. How did Peter and John know Jesus wanted to heal this man?

Hope is fragile. Faith is firm. It takes a word from God to cross over into the realm of certainty about a thing. We can be sure of the promises of God in the Word. Faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ (Romans 10). We get into trouble as Christians when we expect God to fulfill our every hope. When, actually, He is our hope. Christ in us. There are things we don't have to hope for. Heaven. Provision. Salvation. Forgiveness. Power. Purpose. We are assured of these. Have evidence of them in our lives daily. How specifically those are worked out in our lives is what gives us trouble with hope. If it all doesn't work out the way we expected, we despair. Yet, unless God tells us in a way we know it will happen, we cannot expect Him to fulfill our desires our way. Somehow, overwhelmingly, Peter knew he could jerk the lame man up to his feet and in a moment he'd be given new legs. Somehow. By a word from Christ to him. And we've all experienced a thing that required God's intervention to create faith in us for a miracle to happen. Our salvation, if nothing beyond. I couldn't change my heart. I was without hope for that. But I believed that if I asked Jesus to come into my heart, He would. But that faith to believe came from Him. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And that is not your own doing. It is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast (Ephesians 2).

When Peter and John went into the temple with the man now healed, leaping and jumping and generally making a commotion about his healing, the people were amazed. Peter preached to the assembly gathered there about Jesus. "We didn't heal this man! Jesus did! The One you crucified!" All the while, the former beggar held onto them. Clutched the two disciples. Clung to them. I wonder if he thought it might go away--the healing. He might fall down. He'd never walked before. And it reminds me of this psalm. "Hold me up that I might live. Don't let this new hope prove a dream or only momentary. Now that You have healed me, keep me!" And I would echo, "Now that You have saved me, carry me. Keep me close that I might cling to You as one who cannot walk alone." I trust in the character and promises of Christ for me. I have specific hopes for myself and my family and friends. I'm learning, though, to give up the specific instructions I used to give to God on how He is to accomplish His dreams for us. When Jesus tells me that He will act in a specific way--gives me assurance that is His will--I will act on that gift of faith and pursue it. My hopes, though, I lay at His feet and wait for Jesus to do more than I could've ever dreamed. That I expect.

Friday, March 14, 2014

PSALM 119 - Riding Blind

Your Word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path. I have sworn an oath and confirmed it, to keep Your righteous rules. I am severely afflicted. Give me life, O Lord, according to Your word! Accept my freewill offerings of praise, O Lord, and teach me Your rules. I hold my life in my hand continually, but I do not forget Your law. The wicked have laid a snare for me, but I do not stray from Your precepts. Your testimonies are my heritage forever, for they are the joy of my heart. I incline my heart to perform Your statues forever, to the end. (Verses 105-112)

I love Space Mountain at Disneyland. It is, of course, a roller coaster in the dark. I ride it blind. The only way I'd ever get on it. If I could see where it went, how high it is, how deep the drops and all the metal my head could potentially crash into as I speed around the track, I would be so terrified I'd balk. I hate roller coasters, as a rule. Riding blind somehow gives me courage. Strange, I know. I sit back and relax, though, enjoying the fake night sky and able only to see just what is ahead, not all the way down the course.

What would it be like if God showed us the whole spectrum of our lives from the beginning? Would it be so horrifying that we'd exit the ride...or never get on? For some of us, the journey would be so exciting we wouldn't be able to contain ourselves and then we'd blow it. Try to get to the good stuff before we went through the processes. Or we'd hope to avoid the bad stuff by trying to make decisions that go around any suffering. The joy of the trip is the journey. Up hills and down. Oases and deserts. If we knew the end from the beginning? Well, that would be a spoiler alert for most of us. Like me and roller coasters I can see, we'd just avoid the stomach churning fear of looking at life as one big thrill ride prone to disaster.

Instead God gave us a map. A navigation device more sure than our GPS. His Word. The physical Bible and the indwelling Holy Spirit. On the evening of His arrest, Jesus promised His disciples that He'd still speak with them. "When the Spirit of Truth comes, He will guide you into all the truth, for He will not speak on His own authority, but whatever He hears He will speak, and He will declare to you things that are to come. He will glorify Me, for He will take what is mine and declare it to you (John 16)." When we ask Jesus for guidance, for light on our path, He tells the Holy Spirit what to tell us. Conversation with the Word of God straight into our spirits. And His sheep hear His voice. If we listen. Take time to converse with the Light of the world. And if we think we can stay on the path without hearing from the Bible Who our God is and what our God wants, we are very likely to veer into the path of an oncoming pile-up. Our eternal GPS has a map voice and a product visual. We don't drive blind even if we aren't quite sure of our destination. He is.

Every day when we get up, we, like the psalmist, hold our lives in our hands. Make decisions that may affect the outcome of our trek. It's all we have--today. If tomorrow, then we are blessed to move forward. Make no mistake, though, what we do in the moment is important to God. Did we look at the map? Ask Jesus to speak into our itinerary? There is no joy in the journey for me without my God driving the car. I drive blind. He knows the way.

 

Thursday, March 13, 2014

PSALM 119 - Honey, Do!

Oh, how I love Your law! It is my meditation all the day. Your commandments make me wiser than my enemies, for it is ever with me. I have more understanding than all my teachers, for Your testimonies are my meditation. I understand more than the aged, for I keep Your precepts. I hold back my feet from every evil way in order to keep Your word. I do not turn aside from Your rules, for You have taught me. How sweet are Your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth! Through Your precepts I get understanding; therefore, I hate every false way.  (Verses 97-104)

One of the things I noticed right off about having kids is that they aren't born obedient. We had to teach them certain things. And our rules weren't necessarily compatible with the rules of other households. For instance, I didn't want our children to touch things on the coffee table because I didn't want them to go to other homes and pick up anything they felt like touching, terrorizing relatives who don't have kids or neighbors who have Lladro porcelain figurines within reach of little hands. I was the only parent with that rule, trust me! So it was interesting when kids came to play at our house. My children were the ones enforcing the rules on their playmates. "Mommy doesn't want you touching that!" they'd say. And the other kids looked at them like my kids were from another planet. Another rule: No R-rated movies. We didn't go and we told them they couldn't. It was a rule easily bucked, and I'm sure they all either broke it or were tempted to when they were high school seniors. But they all understood the purposes behind it. We don't want our minds or yours corrupted. They didn't have any friends with that parameter in place. So, it was sometimes uncomfortable. What we had going for us as a family, though, was respect. Even though some might have thought our rules too strict, our kids knew why we wanted them to obey. It was never about power or control. Always it was for their good. To equip them in wildly unruly world.

God's Word must be intentionally followed. From the day we asked Christ into our hearts, we are in a new family with new rules. Good families have standards. Virtues by which they guide their lives. Bad families run amok. Children doing whatever they want. Mom and Dad either too intimidated, too enlightened or too lazy to rein them in, ignoring the shaping of their kids, which is their duty the moment a baby first gulps in air and cries its first tears. We, as parents, are responsible for their behavior and are a huge part in the development of their consciences. Would God do any less? Born now into His family, we are taught by Him how to live. We decide to obey because we respect our Father and understand that, though we don't always understand fully the whys of all God asks of us, we do know we are loved. We obey and His rules aren't annoying. As children, of course, we grow into this understanding. That is why we need to read the Bible. It's where God shares His thoughts as well as His rules. It's where we hear His heartbeat and know this Father is good.

That doesn't mean we haven't touched the "spiritual" stove and been burned. Put our hand to the fire just to see what "hot" means. Having done so, though, most of us won't do it again. We see the wisdom in the instruction and the protection it provides keeps us from greater danger from bigger fires. Sweet. Sweet to know what others don't. Sin hurts. Makes me want to know what else God says that will keep me from the burn unit and the massive uphill battle back to health. This is what makes the psalmist find God's will to be honey. It's why I want to hold back my feet from every evil way. We make a decision every day...every minute, probably...to follow what God tells us to. If we don't understand we are loved to pieces and the "precepts" are to conform us to the family and bring us greater peace and joy, we will be wild children always looking for the boundary that is ever further and further out. I love knowing what pleases God. No guessing. No reaching just to see. And I'm joyful in the corral of promise and prosperity that fences in my urges and gives them purpose. I've been a wild horse on the range, mane flying in the breeze as I'm carried along by the momentary sense of freedom that comes from rebellion. The "you can't catch me now" that drove my mutiny finally entangling me in the brambles with no way out. No thank you! Not this woman. Not any more. I love God's law. Crave His Word. Eat it like honey. Taste and see that the Lord is good (Psalm 34).

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

PSALM 119 - What's In A Word?

Forever, O Lord, Your word is firmly fixed in the heavens. Your faithfulness endures to all generations. You have established the earth and it stands fast. By Your appointment they stand this day, for all things are Your servants. If Your law had not been my delight I would have perished in my affliction. I will never forget Your precepts, for by them You have given me life. I am Yours. Save me, for I have sought Your precepts. The wicked lie in wait to destroy me, but I consider Your testimonies. I have seen a limit to all perfection, but Your commandment is exceedingly broad.   (Verses 89-96)

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him was not anything made that was made. In Him was life, and the life was the light of men.  John 1

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form, and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God hovered over the face of the waters. And God said.........  Genesis 1

I've tried to picture it for years. The Godhead in the throes of creation. What did it look like? The void? And from the imagination of the only true Creator, for all our small ideas come from His great mind, came all there is...anywhere. God must have brought into existence even the void into which He fashioned a universe. Twinkling with greater and lesser lights. Was it for the Godhead like stringing lights on a Christmas tree? The joy of watching them illuminate complete darkness with sparkling jewels on black velvet. Ordered, though, not random. Still configured as they were centuries and centuries ago. Reliable through the ages for direction, named by astronomers who've always marveled at their constant and consistent patterns in the night sky. The Godhead: Mind, Word and Spirit. Like us, all One yet a trinity--body, soul and spirit. And the Word spoke it into being. The Word Who became flesh and lived among us. He Who spoke, "Let there be light!" is the Light of the World. The psalmist didn't know that yet. Only knew that the Word is firmly fixed in the heavens.

Since Jesus is the first and last Word on everything, the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End, and since His Word is firmly fixed forever, He is trustworthy to speak over my life. All His words are truth. Not just teachings from a mild mannered Walter Mitty come weakly to earth to spout and pontificate. Not political and misunderstood. The radical truth is Jesus is God of All, stepping down onto the earth He spoke into being, to redeem it from the curse of sin in which it is entangled. Jesus said that's Who He is. (John 8) He isn't in the same bracket as Buddha, Mohammed or the many Hindu gods. None of them claimed to be the Creator God who spoke us into being. Jesus is either that or a lunatic. He can't be squeezed into the mold of a kindly teacher who we can love like we love all the other gods. Jesus never gave us that option. He is the Way, the Truth, the Life. (John 14). Just like the heavens and earth are established, so is His Word.

That's why it's important to know what Jesus says. His words give life to us. They are living, active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart (Hebrews 4). Like the psalmist, we perish in our various afflictions in this life, confused and defeated, if we don't know the promises of God. They navigate us through the labyrinth of life. Like the astronaut, Matt, guiding Ryan through outer space by talking her through the process of getting home in the movie "Gravity." Words that are life.

The other sure thing for those of us who know Christ: we are His--belong to Him. As sure as the stars are set and the earth stands fast, I belong to Jesus. I am loved past my understanding. This morning in my prayer time, that was my request, "Let me know more fully Your love." Contemplating that changes me. Calms and energizes me at once. I belong to the Word Who has been and will be and is now the only God of All. He sings over me, guides me, disciplines me, yearns for fellowship with me and forgives me. Perfection here is limited. Thus all the plastic surgery and age defying liposuction that helps us pretend we are immortal. We aren't made to physically last forever. But the Word of God will. He is from forever to forever. So I can trust what He says.

John, on the island of Patmos, saw Jesus and the vision of the Revelation. The Word spoke of the end of finite things. "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true," Jesus said to John. "It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment. The one who conquers will have this heritage, and I will his God and he will be my son (or child)." Bank on it. The words of the Word are life and hope and truth. In victory and in battle, we need not rejoice in vain nor despair of death if we learn to trust in the perfect Word of God.



 

Monday, March 10, 2014

PSALM 119 - Sipping Wine At Nine

My soul longs for Your salvation. I hope in Your word. My eyes long for Your promise. I ask, "When will You comfort me?" For I have become like a wineskin in the smoke, yet I have not forgotten Your statutes. How long must Your servant endure? When will You judge those who persecute me? The insolent have dug pitfalls for me.They do not live according to Your law. All the commandments are sure. They persecute me with falsehood. Help me! They have almost made an end of me on earth, but I have not forsaken Your precepts. In Your steadfast love give me life that I may keep the testimonies of Your mouth.  (Verses 81-88)

"And no one puts new wine into old wineskins. If he does, the wine will burst the skins--and the wine is destroyed, and so are the skins. But new wine is for fresh wineskins."  Mark 2

The disciples and those faithful to Jesus when He was on earth were together in a rented room in Jerusalem, waiting rather unspecifically for the baptism with the Holy Spirit. The promise of Jesus was they would receive the power of the Holy Spirit "not many days from now." Then Christ ascended into heaven while they watched. That was ten days ago. Perhaps their anticipation waned a bit in the ensuing days since they'd last seen Jesus. Waiting sometimes dulls our hopes. But then again, Jesus had, in the fifty days since Passover and His crucifixion and resurrection, appeared suddenly in their midst. He'd spoken to five hundred witnesses at one time. Chatted with two men as they walked together on the road to Emmaus. On this early morning of the day of Pentecost, a harvest festival, were they milling about the room? Had they just knelt down in the prayer that occupied their days of waiting and hoping? Were they swallowing their last bite of breakfast? When a wind whooshed in. Not through any windows. Bigger than that. Power filling a void pressed them to the walls, filled the entire room in mesmerizing, ear-splitting force. Then fire. Unlit. Swirling at first with the gale then settling in glowing brilliance in pillars over those gathered. Did Peter look at John in amazement? I think so. "John! There is a flame of fire above your head!" And the mother of Jesus is jumping up and down! "There is fire above all our heads!" But the words were coming in a different language!

The Holy Spirit didn't arrive quietly into the temples now made of clay. No. Jerusalem heard the sound of a tornado as it whirred inside the upper room. The harvest feast attracted holy men every year, so the temple grounds swarmed with them. Those in the upper room scurried out and spoke as the Holy Spirit told them to. In languages they'd never learned they proclaimed the mighty works of God. And the gathering crowds heard the gospel of Jesus in their own languages. "What is happening? These people are Galileans! They don't speak our language!" And another, "How come we're hearing them talk to us in our own language?" And they couldn't think what it all meant. They stood amazed and perplexed.

The mockers, though, thought it was a stunt. "They're drunk! Too much new wine!"

At nine o'clock in the morning. A seemingly random time for Jesus to decide to finally send the Holy Spirit to us. And if drunk, yes, it was with new wine. In new wine skins. "Men of Judea and all who dwell in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and give ear to my words. For these people are not drunk, as you suppose, since it's only nine o'clock in the morning. What is happening is the fulfillment of the prophet Joel: "And in the last days it shall be, God declares, that I will pour out My Spirit on all flesh." Fill us up with new wine. Exchange the smoke-shriveled souls of dried up self-righteousness with a brand new vessel. No longer do we have to cry out from the dried up caverns of our puny piety. "Every man in Christ is a brand new creature. The old has passed away and the new has come" (2 Corinthians 5). We get to start all over.

Peter was in hiding. Ashamed almost beyond bearing that he'd denied three times that he even knew Jesus. New wine. Poured in by grace. Lit by the same fire that Christ brought down to earth to reclaim His own. Now preaching boldly. "Men of Israel, hear these words: Jesus of Nazareth, a man attested to you by God with mighty works and wonders and signs that God did through Him in your midst, as you yourselves know quite well. This Jesus, delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men. God raised Him up, loosing the pangs of death, because it was not possible for Him to be held by it!" Spilling onto the crowds the overflowing from a new wineskin.

Never do we have to say with the psalmist, "I feel like a wineskin that's been left out in the garage, thrown up into some rafter and forgotten. Soul shriveled and parched. Unworthy of filling once again with the joy of new wine." It's not that we don't find ourselves thinking that way sometimes. The point is, we don't have to. The hallmark of Passover and Pentecost is that we can be indwelt by that same Spirit Who raised Christ from the dead. He is powerful enough to have seen Jesus through His death and to take the body, blow His breath into it as He did with Adam, and cause the eyes of our Messiah to blink in the darkness as He sat up and stretched in the sepulcher that couldn't hold Him. The rock that enclosed and captured Jesus there rolled back at His command and He walked free past two mighty angels and back onto the earth He'd redeemed forever. That Spirit lives in me. And if you know Jesus, in you. So that no matter what it is we face today, and some face dire, dire things, we can be filled with new wine. We have the power to walk through the valley of the shadow of death and fear no evil. We can overcome addictions by tasting a better brew than the one concocted for us by the enemy of our souls. And the One Who abides in us will give us power to live here until we drink the wine anew with Jesus in heaven.

 

Friday, March 7, 2014

PSALM 119 - Why Did You Make Me This Way, For Crying Out Loud?!

Your hands have made and fashioned me. Give me understanding that I may learn Your commandments. Those who fear You shall see me and rejoice, because I have hoped in Your word. I know, O Lord, that Your rules are righteous, and that in faithfulness You have afflicted me. Let Your steadfast love comfort me according to Your promise to Your servant. Let Your mercy come to me, that I may live; for Your law is my delight. Let the insolent be put to shame, because they have wronged me with falsehood. As for me, I will meditate on Your precepts. Let those who fear You turn to me, that they may know Your testimonies. May my heart be blameless in Your statutes that I may not be put to shame!  (Verses 73-80)

The potter took the slippery wad of clay into her hands and plopped it onto the wheel. The early morning sun shone through the window of her garage studio. The kiln was already baking an earlier creation because the potter couldn't sleep for all the designs that burst upon her thoughts as she lay awake in her bed that night. With this lump of clay she wanted to create a vessel for her mother. A special creation. A ewer for the dining room table to hold the roses from the spring garden which always burst with hundreds of grandiflora beauties. As the wheel turned to the rhythm of the potter's foot and the water slicked the clay in her hands, the woman noticed something strange. Each time she would build the vessel upward, the clay would collapse back onto the platform of the wheel, as if refusing the form she had in mind. Less water. Added clay. The lovely pitcher took all morning. Finally, though, it was ready for the kiln. The master potter's idea from the night realized despite the clumsy, mutinous clay. Fired and set, the gift delivered into the hands of a delighted mother, it was soon all the more glorious for the multi-colored array of long-stemmed roses that graced it all that spring.

In the mind of the creator is a creation. Something new. Never done before. Only the potter knows what she will do with the lump of dirt in her hands. Once realized and fired, the purpose is set. All kinds of vessels. Earthen pots for many uses. God knows we aren't pots. But the picture for us should be clear. He made us. We should actually rejoice in the fact that there is thought and purpose behind each life God fashions. And, as this psalm reminds us, if God made us, it only stands to reason that if we want to understand our lives we need to ask Him to teach us. We come with instructions. And He has them in His hand. It's ridiculous to imagine a pot, fresh from the kiln, saying to the potter: "What the heck! Look at me! Why in the world did you make me into a vase, for crying out loud?" Even more insane to think of the vase walking out of the studio and going to the local pub to present itself as a stein to hold beer. Because that's what it wanted to be all along. A beer mug. Then the vase wonders why it's not happy in the bar.

It's a beautiful thing to see an earthen vessel moving in all that it was designed to be. The greatest glory for the lovely gift the potter gave to her mother is for it to be used to hold the bouquets for which it was created. We, like the pots, are designed for something. God thought about us before He fashioned our lives. We aren't a matter of happenstance. An afterthought in a world of chance. I was made to fit into a larger plan. And I was created in love. I've met lots of little pots who are in the wrong household. Frustrated and chipped because no one seems to understand how precious they are. Misuses them. Decorative urns stuffed with garbage. Crystal bowls used for morning cereal. And always feeling like that's all they are good for. I've had a few shards of my own pot fall to floor from the mishandling of what is sacred to God.

Our potter, though? Fixes broken vessels. Never hopeless. Always loved. Our purpose is ever our purpose. No plan B. That's what we are delivered from! Found in the bottom of the cupboard, languishing and lonely, His hand picks us up and refashions and repairs. It gives hope to the other vessels. "Come and look at what the Potter did!" I cry. "He took me up out of the bottom drawer, out of the shame of my hiding place, and repaired all my broken places! Now I live, new and shiny, in the house of a king! Come and let me tell you how He rescued this little jar of clay!"

"Woe to him who strives with Him Who formed him, a pot among earthen pots! Does the clay say to Him Who forms it, 'What are You making?' or 'Your work has no handles'?...Ask me of things to come; will you command Me concerning my children and the work of my hands? I made the earth and created man on it. It was My hands that stretched out the heavens, and I commanded all their host."  Isaiah 45

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

PSALM 119 - "You're About As Feeling As Fat!"

You have dealt well with Your servant, O Lord, according to Your word. Teach me good judgment and knowledge, for I believe in Your commandments. Before I was afflicted, I went astray, but now I keep Your word. You are good and do good. Teach me Your statutes. The insolent smear me with lies, but with my whole heart I keep Your precepts. Their heart is unfeeling, like fat, but I delight in Your law. It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn Your statutes. The law of Your mouth is better to me than thousands of gold and silver pieces.   (Verses 65-72)

I have heard it said that God is as gentle with us as we allow Him to be in dealing with our disobedience. He will wait and wait for us to straighten up before He stands mightily in our path and makes us behave. I know there are those who believe God set His commandments in place in order to punish us at every turn. And that's the way religion plays out. God is the malevolent, heavy-handed One Who ever lives to wield His golden switch and spank our behinds. Or worse. What I know from reading the scriptures God is my Father through Jesus Christ. Fathers who love their children will discipline them. Not for the joy of beating their kids, but for the joy of having children who live controlled and purposeful lives. After having taught school for several years and working with other peoples' children, I know which ones have been carefully taught and lovingly disciplined and the ones who've been allowed their own way. The undisciplined are miserable and make those around them miserable, too.

This is one of those passages I underlined in my after I'd gone astray days. Our family packed up for the beach, the sandwiches, chips, fruit, cookies and drinks into the back of the van with the boogie boards and towels. It was very hot inland, where we lived at the time, and all the other families from Riverside and beyond must've decided to go to the beach that day, too, because traffic was awful on a Saturday. Finding parking off Pacific Coast Highway was our next challenge. But we finally settled onto the sand with the beach chairs upright and the towels beckoning us to lie down and tan. Will was six or seven then. Went down to the waves to race with the surf and got lost. I could still see him, so I didn't know he was panicking. There were many people between us, but he wasn't really lost. He only felt lost. I saw him turning in circles. Looking for his family. Then he started crying. It was then I understood he needed help. He'd gone astray and was scared. "Will!" I yelled. "Over here!" I stood up so my son could see me. My boy ran over so fast he nearly knocked me down. "I thought I'd lost you," he said through his tears. "I hadn't lost you, baby," I said. "I could see you." Will stayed very close the rest of the day. Before he knew what it was like to be away from me, he wasn't worried about how far out he got. You get the picture.

God won't let us get so far away that we completely lose Him, but if we are stubborn enough to keep on keeping on, He'll step in and be as gentle as we let Him in His effort to get us back into relationship. While I was out there straying, what was very clear, and what I see with even more clarity now, is no one really cares for me like Jesus does. My heart was captive to those whose hearts had about as much feeling as a blob of fat. The Bible is surprising in its imagery sometimes. I traded the warmth and joy of my relationship with my Father for a can of Crisco or a side of bacon (although I have friends who love bacon so much it could be a hard choice!) Why would the One Who loves me, died so that I could be in eternal relationship with Him, allow me to continually pursue lard? And, of course, once again the comparison is between hearts. My whole heart belongs to God; their hearts are unfeeling, fat with their own over-indulging. My heart is only safe with Jesus. The straying only made that more obvious. Made me want more than ever to stay close. To listen to what He says. Cherish the safety of the parameters my God sets because without them, I am without proximity to Him. I can't buy that. It's priceless.

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

PSALM 119 - "Would You Just Cool It, Peanut Butter Sandwich?"

The Lord is my portion. I promise to keep Your words. I entreat Your favor with all my heart. Be gracious to me according to Your promise. When I think on my ways, I turn my feet to Your testimonies. I hasten and do not delay to keep Your commandments. Though the cords of the wicked ensnare me, I do not forget Your law. At midnight I rise to praise You because of Your righteous rules. I am a companion of all who fear You, of those who keep Your precepts. The earth, O Lord, is full of Your steadfast love. Teach me Your statutes!  (Verses 57-64)

We had a house guest for about six months who ate everything in sight. Way more than what I, as the cook and dishwasher, thought was his allotted portion given the number of us who were eating. Two of my children were still home at the time, or at least in and out for dinner. I remember one evening making one of their favorite meals--chicken fried steak fingers, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans and dinner rolls. We began eating and were having a jovial conversation when the front door opened, signaling the entrance at dinner time, of our guest. I still laugh today when I think of all the forks that stabbed at the meat still left on the serving plate. My family getting all they wanted before he could fill his plate to the brim without regard for anyone else. We were laughing rather hysterically by the time our guest sat down. He still had plenty, of course, but not the pile he usually forked over onto his plate.

It reminded me when I read just now that the Lord is my portion, that I have in the past grabbed for other things, in too great a quantity, with disregard for what others might need, in order to sate my appetites. Learning the all-too-hard lesson that He is all I need. My inheritance is Christ. My life providentially ordered by the creator of my story, my theme song playing in the background, as I seek to find my way into His way for me. Anyone who has strolled away from God, Pinocchio-like into the headiness of the carnival filled with delights untouchable and irreverent, should be able to say that home is better. That the favor of God exceeds in every way the favor of man. So that when we consider our ways after returning to Jesus, we think about how we can please Him from now on. Because? Because His laws, the ones that set our parameters, are good for us! We should want to do them so quickly it makes our heads swim. After all, God has chopped off the lying noses and indwelt the wooden bodies of those of us who know Him. Given us life! And doing what He wants is one of the better parts of living! We go on without being a "real boy or girl" without His breath in our lungs.

I'm up in the night often. As some of you are. Recently, the Lord awakened me before a big party at our house. At 3:45 A.M. I heard Him plainly tell me to go downstairs and seek Him. To cover our home with favor. With His Presence. Rising to be near to Him. To praise and beseech my Father. The evening of the party was miraculous in many respects. I have taken communion in the middle of the night, too. Sung praise songs. Sat on my upstairs porch, covered in a blanket, and communed with Him while I watched the stars. When I feel overwhelmed in the storms that sometimes come, it is in the middle of the night I go to my God. Alone. Just my Father and me. It is His calling me to Him that makes my feet run to do what God says. It is the love I know engulfs me when I talk to my God that makes the things He tells me to do bearable, if not sweet. It is the knowledge that He has walked this earth, is acquainted with my frailty, has been ensnared by evil and understands my limitations that bind me to my Savior. I want His favor! His blessings! But not for my own importance or prosperity, though that might come with it. I want His favor because I love Jesus. He melts my heart. Jesus has walked me out of pits and into glory. The favor I want is that He says, "Well done, Kay. Finally, well done!"

When Vanessa was a baby, she liked peanut butter sandwiches. Craved them. (She still has a love relationship with the stuff!) The problem was, the sandwich often stuck to the roof of her mouth, making her livid! She would throw a fit, scream in her high chair and pitch the sandwich to the floor. Each time I instructed her that if she'd just take her finger and scrape the bite of sandwich from her palate, there would be no further problem. Each time she was just too mad to think about the solution. I took this for a few times, then said one day when she begged for her blessed peanut butter for lunch: "I will make you a sandwich. But, if you scream or cry you will never have another peanut butter sandwich again!" Her eyes stared in wonder at the possibility. I caught her gaze and held it. "I mean it, Vanessa." And so the lunch dance between us began. Thrilled at first for the first bite of her favorite meal. Tricked again by the gunk in the roof of her mouth. She started to throw it. To scream and panic. Furious it had foiled her again. Then she happened to look at me. Looking at her. Waiting for her to decide whether she wanted to obey me or face the consequences of following her most innate desires. Our eyes were locked on each other. Vanessa's face was wrinkled in a combination of anger and thoughtfulness. Finally, after what seemed an eternity to us both, she took her finger, removed the stuck sandwich from her mouth, then looked at the sandwich and said, "Would you just cool it, peanut butter sandwich?!" Thereafter, she ate with aplomb her favorite meal. Obedience actually brought her the joy she'd been missing.

When I think on my ways...the outcomes I think are best or the attitudes that inform my actions...I am more and more turning to His. Like the sandwich and Vanessa, my God is patient with my fits and disobedience, but His expectation is that I will learn. So that I can enjoy all He has made for me...which, by the way, is vastly more amazing than peanut butter. But if I pause to look at Him while He's looking at me, give Him time, even at midnight, to instruct and engage with my life, to decide that I'd rather have what He gives me than throw a fit because I don't get my way, there's a very good chance that I will cry out to my Father, "The earth is full of Your love! Teach me more!"