Safe with the Shepherd

I’ve been thinking about Psalm 23 since the sermon Sunday. (And since Pastor Matt didn’t post a sermon recap, I guess I can say whatever I want.) At the same time, I’ve been reading Desperate for Hope, by Bruce W. Martin, and he just happens to have a few comments on that psalm:

“We embrace the promises of God about abundant life, but overlook (or ignore) the clear teachings in Scripture that guarantee suffering as well. Sometimes these promises are right next to each other, in the same passage of Scripture, but we sort of mentally edit them out. For instances in Psalm 23...

-God is my shepherd. Claim. I’m all about that!
-I don’t lack anything. Claim. That sounds good.
-He gives me green pastures to rest in. Claim. Resting in comfort is good
-He leads me beside still waters. Claim. No reason to risk drowning in whitewater.
-He restores my soul. Unclaim! Sounds like my soul could be in bad shape.
-I’ll walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Unclaim! Sounds a little scary.
-He’ll provide when I am surrounded by enemies. Unclaim! I'd rather not have any enemies.

“You get the picture. It’s not that we specifically, consciously ‘unclaim’ those things, we just read over them glibly without really thinking about the implications” (p. 107).

I don’t believe we spend much time thinking about the condition of our souls. Yes, we want to have our soul “saved” and have the assurance of eternal life, but what about daily life? We want to have our sins forgiven, but we don’t give much thought to God’s process of purifying us through sanctification.

I was thinking about this recently while reading Matthew 22 and the parable of the wedding feast. I used to think this was a rather unfair story. If you go out and invite people to a wedding, why would you then throw them out because they aren’t dressed for it? But if you read this alongside Matthew 7:21-23, you get the picture that even though some people receive the “invitation” to eternal life, and maybe even think they are doing good things for the kingdom, they never really acknowledge their need of a Savior and allow Him to clothe them in His righteousness. I suspect many churchgoers are looking forward to heaven without ever submitting to Jesus’ lordship over their lives. They may be startled to find out they aren’t “dressed” for the occasion.

Several times in the book Martin states, “God is more intent on perfecting us through trouble than on protecting us from trouble.” Or to put it in Psalm 23 language, He’s more concerned with the condition and destination of our soul than with avoiding the dark valleys. Speaking as one of the sheep, there have been plenty of times when I’ve questioned the Shepherd’s wisdom in taking me along certain paths. I’ve wondered if He is really doing what’s best, or maybe He’s off looking for a lost sheep somewhere while I stumble along on my own.

Psalm 23 and John 10 are reassuring reminders that the Good Shepherd really does know what He’s doing. He cares for each of the sheep (not just the flock as a whole); He knows the terrain and leads the sheep to the good places for food and water; and He knows that the dark valleys are safe enough to pass through. But the Shepherd doesn’t bother explaining to the sheep where they are going, how they’re going to get there, or why this path is necessary. We have to trust that He has it under control and that the end result will be for our best. Only when we truly trust the Shepherd will we find that peace that comes from dwelling in His presence and under His care.

“But I trust in You, O Lord; I say, ‘You are my God.’ My times are in Your hand…” (Psalm 31:14-15a).

Out of Control

Being out of control is rarely an enjoyable experience. Whether it is losing control on snowy roads (as I did a month ago) and watching the guardrail slide closer and closer, or facing unexpected or unwanted circumstances such as illness or unemployment, or even dealing with the inevitable results of aging, there are a lot of times when we just have to accept things that are beyond our control. And being out of control can create all kinds of emotional turmoil—fear, anger, depression, etc.

One of the books I’m reading currently is A New Kind of Normal: Hope-Filled Choices When Life Turns Upside Down, by Carol Kent. She shares her own story of having a son serving a life sentence for murder, but she also draws lessons from the life of Mary as she watched Jesus grow and eventually be crucified. There are many good points and quotes in the book, and one that stood out to me was this:

“I wish I could tell you I prayed that prayer of relinquishment and suddenly transformed into a woman with absolute trust in God for her son’s future, but that wouldn’t be true. I have to pray some form of that prayer every day, and sometimes multiple times a day. When you are living in a new kind of normal, relinquishment is an action step that often must be done daily as we get up, let go of our control over a person or a complicated situation, and move in a forward direction. It is never easy. It is never routine. It is hard work. But it is necessary.” (149)

I don’t know about you, but giving up control is not something that I really want to do. I like to control my environment, my work, my relationships, my emotions, etc. I suppose that’s one reason I’ve never wanted to get married—adding another person to my life also adds to my lack of control over all aspects of life. (I won’t even mention having kids!) I think we grow up with the illusion (or delusion) that the more we mature, the more control we’ll have. But it seems like God is shattering that illusion in my life. I’m realizing day by day how little I actually do have control over. And for a recovering perfectionist, that’s a scary realization.

I hadn’t really thought about it before, but there are plenty of examples in Scripture of people who were not in control of their circumstances—Joseph, Job, Peter, Paul, and yes, Mary. They went through some very difficult situations with varying degrees of faith in God. Carol Kent makes this observation, “Sometimes, when we have loss upon loss, we think we deserve to be in control of certain outcomes, if only to protect ourselves from additional hurt and pain. It seems the most irrational thing we can do is to let go one more time. We battle with conflicting emotions and ‘duke it out with God,’ sometimes through prayer, but occasionally by being obstinate... Letting go of our grip on predictable results and trusting God with our heart offering is one of the most challenging choices we make” (160).

As I’ve mentioned before, one of my often repeated prayers is “I do trust You, God. I know You are in control.” Sometimes that is an affirmation of my faith, but sometimes it is a reminder to me of the faith I should have. Sometimes I can willingly relinquish control to Him, but sometimes I only realize after the fact that I’ve lost control. When that happens, the fight to regain control is usually worse than just accepting the situation. Sleepless nights, anxiety, and anger don’t really accomplish anything besides making me feel worse. Perhaps one of these days I’ll learn to yield control to the One who is already in control. But this is a hard lesson to learn, and it doesn’t seem to get any easier the longer the lesson continues. And somehow I have a feeling that this isn’t the only lesson on God’s syllabus right now. In fact, I could name several that have been occurring simultaneously. In the meantime, I’ll close with Kent’s prayer:

“God, I release to You what I cannot control. I hold [this situation] with open hands. The Bible says Your angels set up a circle of protection around us while we pray. I need that circle right now, not just for protection but for comfort... As I relinquish my control over my dreams, I embrace Your new kind of normal for my life. Amen.” (159-160)

Words that Wound, Words that Heal

As I’ve been thinking about Sunday’s sermon on Wisdom & Words from Proverbs 4:20-27, a couple themes have come to mind. During the sermon I was thinking about the power of words to wound people. My first thought was of the verbal bashing that many of us endured in school from our peers. It seemed like everyone carried a sword with which to cut down anyone who was different in any way, in hopes of making themselves look a little taller. I remember a quote I read recently that basically said bullies are people who have been bullied. And unfortunately, a lot of that bullying begins at home with parents who are verbally abusive to their kids. (And those parents were probably abused as kids too.) The damage the tongue can do to a child is heartbreaking, both for that child and for those who truly love them.

Even good parents can cause wounds by the words they say or by the tone they use. Good words used in the wrong way can be hurtful. I think of a word that most people would consider a term of endearment, but there’s nothing endearing about it when it makes you feel about two inches tall. I don’t believe most parents intend to belittle their children, but when frustration or exasperation strikes, words come out the wrong way. What’s even more discouraging is that most of us don’t learn from our own mistakes or the mistakes of others. Even though we’ve all been hurt by careless words, very few people learn to tame the tongue (James 3).

On the flip side, there are words that bring life, healing, joy, and hope to the hurting soul. “I love you.” “I’m praying for you.” “You are special.” “God is at work in you.” These words and many others reflect vital truths that we all need to hear more often. Obviously, they can’t be repeated flippantly or thoughtlessly. Words like this require some degree of intimacy and vulnerability. The people who have the most power to either wound or heal with their words are the people we are closest to. A compliment from a stranger might be nice, but it doesn’t have the lasting impact of a kind word from a friend. I can testify to the life-giving and lifesaving power of words from those who have expressed their love and concern for me. And without exception, those people have been faithful both in praying for me and in reminding me of God’s love.

I’ve gone back to Philippians 4:8 (which I’d already forgotten was on my January “resolutions” list): “Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things” (ESV). I hadn’t considered until just now the fact that some of these terms refer to verbal actions. If something is commendable or praiseworthy, it would be a good idea to commend or praise the people involved! I wonder how different our world would be if Christians would take this verse as a command to not only think about these things, but to speak about them as well? Just thinking back over recent days, I could come up with several examples of our failure to do so. If we were busy speaking and thinking about these good things, it wouldn’t be nearly so hard to guard our hearts against the words that wound. We’ve all heard the saying, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” If that were heeded, the world would be a lot quieter place!

Although I am not one to speak a lot of words, I certainly think plenty of them. And I know that what I think is often not true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellent, or praiseworthy. I know what I need to work on, and I’m sure I’m not alone in that endeavor.

“Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger... If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this person’s religion is worthless” (James 1:19,26).

Come Rest

I’ve started reading through the New Testament and this morning I read Matthew 11. I realized anew how artificial the chapter, verse, and section divisions can be at times. I know I’ve tended to view the Gospels in particular as a series of unrelated stories. My Bible (ESV) divides this chapter into three sections that at first glance don’t seem to be connected. But when I got to verses 28-30 I started wondering what they had to do with the preceding verses:

“Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light.”

In the first six verses of the chapter, John’s disciples come to Jesus and ask if He really is the Messiah. In answer, Jesus tells them to look at His works—people healed, the dead raised, and the good news preached. Then in verses 7-19, Jesus asks the crowds why they followed John the Baptist, and He reminds them of the evidence that John was a prophet who was himself prophesied by Malachi.

In verses 20-24, Jesus denounces the people who saw His miracles and yet refused to believe in Him. Then He prays aloud in verses 25-27 in a way that seems to dig in the goad a little deeper. My loose translation is, “God has made it so obvious that even children can understand who I am, but you ‘wise’ men still missed it.”

It’s only after these declarations and proofs of His identity that He says, “Come to Me.” This is not just some disjointed thought or a random word of encouragement. It is because He is the Messiah, Savior, and Son of God that Jesus can say He will give us rest. No one else can relieve the burdens of our hearts and souls. And when He says His yoke is easy, it’s not just an invitation to join Him in His work. He’s just gotten through telling John’s disciples that He is doing the impossible by the power of God. We can’t simply join His work, because we have nothing to contribute on our own. But we get to hand Him our burdens and watch Him at work.

As the Apostle John reminds us, “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory” (John 1:14). His glory, power, and majesty are reminders of who He is and who we aren’t! We aren’t the ones with the strength to carry every burden. And in John 15 Jesus declares that He is the Vine, and we’re just branches depending on His resources. I read those verses recently as saying, “I AM the Vine, so stop trying to be the vine yourself!” Abiding in Him is the prerequisite for bearing fruit. It’s His work, not ours. (As a side note, John 15:7 says that abiding is also the prerequisite to answered prayer.)

In writing about Matthew 11, Max Lucado writes, “I wonder, how many burdens is Jesus carrying for us that we know nothing about? We’re aware of some. He carries our sin. He carries our shame. He carries our eternal debt. But are there others? Has he lifted fears before we felt them? Has he carried our confusion so we wouldn’t have to? Those times when we have been surprised by our own sense of peace? Could it be that Jesus has lifted our anxiety onto his shoulders and placed a yoke of kindness on ours?” (A Love Worth Giving, p. 27).

You’ve probably heard the illustration of a boy “helping” his father with some job, like carrying the end of the board. He isn’t really contributing to the effort, and he has no idea how much weight his father is actually bearing for him. But he wants to help because he wants to spend time with dad.

So how does this work in practical life? First, we need to remind ourselves of who God is—He’s in control of all things and He’s also our loving Father. That alone can be great encouragement when the burdens of life start to get heavy. In a recent sermon, Mark Driscoll* made the comment that if you’re facing a particular temptation or trying time, take heart in knowing that God knows you are strong enough to bear it when you rely on Him.

Second, we need to continuously turn our burdens over to God, making a conscious effort to stop worrying, analyzing, and planning. I confess I’m not very good at doing this on a consistent basis. But in my written prayers I see the theme repeated, “God, I don’t understand this and I don’t know what You are doing, but I trust You anyway.” David’s psalms are great examples of such prayers. Worship songs are another avenue of redirecting our thoughts. Here is one that I’ve listened to a lot in recent weeks, “Peace Be Still” by Rush of Fools. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3UDvvlhJGME

May we find our rest in His strength and steadfast love.

“Give ear to my prayer, O God, and hide not yourself from my plea for mercy! Attend to me, and answer me; I am restless in my complaint… But I call to God, and the Lord will save me... Cast your burden on the Lord, and He will sustain you; He will never permit the righteous to be moved... I will trust in You” (Psalm 55:1-2, 16, 22-23).

*This blog was written before Mark Driscoll's downfall. I do not endorse him in any way.

It's in His Hands

As I've been meditating on Psalm 139 for several days, one thing has become more clear to me, and that is the fact that God knows all things and is present in all things. 

In verses 7-10, whether I intentionally flee from Him in guilt and shame, or whether circumstances seem to isolate me against my own desires, still God is there and is never outside the reach of my voice. In other psalms (such as 5:3 and 10:17), the psalmist reiterates the fact the God hears us when we call. Isaiah 59:1 says "Surely the arm of the Lord is not too short to save, nor His ear too dull to hear" (NIV).

The next few verses of Psalm 139 are a reminder that God sees what happens in darkness. I had previously thought of this just in terms of trying to hide from God, but lately it's become apparent that this also refers to the darkness of a sinful world, as well as the pain of brokenness. When the darkness is overwhelming, still God sees, hears and responds. 

As in verses 10-16, my recent posts have already talked about the fact that God has created me as I am and He doesn't make mistakes. 

Ultimately, this psalm is a great encouragement that God is in control. As we see in the life of Job, as well as John 10:29, our times are in His hands and nothing comes against us that is not known and allowed by God. This hymn is a reminder of that fact:

Day by Day- Karolina Sandell-Berg (public domain)

Day by day, and with each passing moment,

Strength I find, to meet my trials here;

Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment,

I’ve no cause for worry or for fear.

He Whose heart is kind beyond all measure

Gives unto each day what He deems best—

Lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure,

Mingling toil with peace and rest.

Every day, the Lord Himself is near me

With a special mercy for each hour;

All my cares He fain would bear, and cheer me,

He Whose Name is Counselor and Pow’r.

The protection of His child and treasure

Is a charge that on Himself He laid;

“As thy days, thy strength shall be in measure,”

This the pledge to me He made.

Help me then in every tribulation

So to trust Thy promises, O Lord,

That I lose not faith’s sweet consolation

Offered me within Thy holy Word.

Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting,

E’er to take, as from a father’s hand,

One by one, the days, the moments fleeting,

Till I reach the promised land.

Just As I Am

This post kind of builds on my last post…

Do you ever get the feeling you just don’t fit in? That’s been a recurring theme in my life. I don’t watch sports (though I did enjoy the NBA when the Bulls were good and I lived in Chicago-land), nor do I watch most of the current TV offerings or even the news. I don’t cook, I don’t enjoy parties, I don’t like games, and I despise small talk. So that pretty well limits the social opportunities I participate in. Even back in elementary school I felt like I had nothing in common with my so-called peers. I’ve never been very confident that I know what’s expected of me in social situations. (Somebody probably would have labeled me with Asperger’s Syndrome if that had been well-known back then.)

I had one of those moments this week when I felt like I was trying to be something I wasn’t, and that being myself might have negative repercussions. I wondered why I was there and whether I really belonged there. When I had some time to think about it, I was drawn back to Psalm 139 (ESV):

v. 1- O Lord, You have searched me and known me…
v. 2- You discern my thoughts from afar…
v. 14- I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made…
v. 16- In Your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me…

As much as I’d like to argue with David’s words here, I have to believe that he was led by the Spirit to write God’s truth, and that these words apply to me as well. For whatever reason, God has given me a unique personality, shaped by my genetics and my life experiences, and He has a unique role for me to serve in His Body. Just because I don’t fit the mold of many groups doesn’t make me deficient in any way, nor does it make me superior. It just means I’m different. And because I’m different, I see and experience things in a unique way and I can try to communicate my experiences in a way that may benefit others.

For all of its emphasis on tolerance and diversity, our culture still tries to put people in boxes. For just one example, I think of a teenager who isn’t attracted to the opposite sex. Society says, “Well, they must be homosexual!” But how do you factor in the trauma that teen has suffered from physical, sexual, or emotional abuse as a child? Before accepting a label and adopting a lifestyle, probably all of us could use some good counseling to figure out why we think and feel the way we do and whether those things have to define us forever.

Psalm 139 is a reminder to me that God has formed me and He knows me better than I know myself. Therefore it’s okay to be who He made me, quirks and all. (One caveat—“That’s just the way I am” is never an excuse to live in sin. After all, Jesus died to redeem us from slavery to sin and to make us new creations in His image.)

I know that “be yourself” is easier said than done. We tend to think peer pressure only effects young people, but when was the last time you laughed at a joke that you didn’t think was funny? Have you attended an office party out of an obligation to look good in front of your boss? I suspect that the majority of people live behind a mask at least some of the time—at work, or church, or in public, or maybe even at home. We’re so used to the masks that we forget we’re wearing them.

You’d think that church ought to be a place where people are free to be themselves, but it seems to me that Christians are as cloaked as everyone else. We feel like we might be judged for our struggles with sin, our lack of Bible knowledge, our family situations, or any number of other things. I’m not exactly sure how we can go about changing the church culture, but I think it has to begin with a certainty that “it is He who made us, and we are His” (Psalm 100:3). If God has chosen us, accepted us, and made us part of His Body, then we can learn to accept ourselves and love one another “as is.” But if we question those facts at any level, then we will live in fear for ourselves and in judgment of others. I’m trying to move in that direction by God’s grace, and hopefully leading the way for others.

In John’s writings, he places a lot of emphasis on truth and light—“You will know the truth and the truth will set you free” (John 8:31); “I rejoice greatly to find some of your children walking in the truth, just as we were commanded by the Father” (2 John 4); “If we walk in the light, as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another” (1 John 1:7). It seems to me that living behind a mask is a form of deception, and therefore is not walking in truth and light. As such, it becomes a hindrance to true fellowship with one another. Nothing breaks fellowship faster than believing the lie that everybody else has it all together and you don’t (or vice versa). It also hinders our ability to “worship the Father in spirit and truth” (John 4:23-24).

I suspect that this will continue to be a recurring theme for me and for many Christians. Our world does not encourage honesty and vulnerability, so we’ll always be fighting an uphill battle. But one day all the masks will be torn away. It just now occurred to me that when we get to the Kingdom, it won’t be like those awkward “get to know you” games that I’ve always hated. Rather, it will be a place where we’ll all feel perfectly comfortable with ourselves and with one another. I’ll be glad to see that day come.

“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known” (1 Corinthians 13:12).

Envious or Content?

Sunday afternoon I was thinking about the sermon, Wisdom & Envy, and I was convicted to realize that I do struggle with envy in one particular area. It’s not about things—I have more than I need. It’s not about relationships—God has given me the people I need in my life. But I do envy those who seem to have a much more lighthearted attitude toward life than I do. One friend and I have discussed the question more than once—“Is there something wrong with us that we don’t laugh hilariously at every little thing?” (We agreed we’re normal!) We could attribute it to many different things, since personality development is an area of vast research. I’m certainly not in a position to judge those who are different from me.

While I was wrestling with this idea, I was reading a short book I picked up from the church library, God Is In Control, by Charles Stanley. He writes:

“I wonder how many times you have said to the Lord, ‘Dear Lord, I want You to use me. I don’t want a lot of pain in my life, but I’m willing to be used.’ Sorry, God does not work that way. If you want to be used by God, get ready to hurt. If you want to be a comforter, then get ready to suffer. If you want to be someone who can really encourage others, then you must be a person who’s walked through the valley of discouragement, surrounded by hurt, suffering, and loss. God is equipping you and me to be vessels of love, healing, and restoration to a world filled with pain, hate, and fear” (86).

I’m not saying that lighthearted people aren’t used by God. After all, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven... a time to weep and a time to laugh” (Ecclesiastes 3:1,4 ESV). However, I think there are a couple practical implications to consider.

1) Perhaps some (or many) people are pretending to be happier than they really are. They may be hiding their pain out of shame or fear. Or they may believe the unwritten expectation that Christians should be joyful at all times. Larry Crabb recounts a story in Shattered Dreams of a friend who told him, “I’m tired of doing great. Just yesterday, I overheard two of my friends talking about me. One asked how I was doing. The other said I was doing great. I wanted to scream.” Crabb goes on, “When life kicks us in the stomach, we want someone to be with us as we are, not as he or she wishes us to be. We don’t want someone trying to make us feel better. That effort, no matter how well intended, creates a pressure that adds to our distress” (123). Sometimes it’s easier to pretend all is well than to be honest about whatever difficulties we’re facing. (And certainly, not every conversation needs to become a counseling session.)

2) Sometimes it is okay to set aside the difficulties and enjoy the moment. If we’re truly trusting that God is in control, we don’t need to continually dwell on the issues until God straightens them out. It’s okay to cry, but it’s also okay to laugh. We may not all be the cackling or guffawing types, and that’s okay too.

Even though I have envied others’ happiness, I wouldn’t trade lives with them under any circumstances. I have learned far more through suffering depression than I ever would have in other ways. Kathryn Greene-McCreight states it well in Darkness Is My Only Companion:

“I had not been praying for my own healing at this point. I do not mean to generalize and say that all mentally ill people should follow me in this. But the only prayer I could muster was for strength to endure this. There were of course times when the shadow of an inkling crossed my mind to pray for healing, but for some reason it did not seem the right thing to do. How strange. It just didn’t fit. Almost as if it were blasphemous to pray for healing, to be rid of despair, to be freed of the horror of bouncing from high to low. I am not called to pray for healing from this, only for strength to endure. This is because I believe that God still has much to teach me through this, and that some of what he will teach I can’t even yet begin to imagine” (130).

Crabb puts it this way, “on the spiritual journey, there are seasons when doing great requires that we feel awful... In their anguish, people on the spiritual journey abandon themselves to God. Eventually they discover their desire for Him is stronger than all their other desires, and in their seasons of misery when life disappoints and they fail, they seek Him more earnestly. Making their lives more comfortable and themselves more acceptable is a secondary concern” (125).

Through sorrow I am learning to seek God first. Sinful desires fall away when my attention is on Him. Even good things do not satisfy if they are not from His hand. I am reminded again that verses like Psalm 37:4, “Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart,” and Matthew 6:33, “But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you” aren’t promises to give us all the good things we desire. Instead, when our delight is in God and we are seeking Him, then He is Himself all that we really desire. It’s not “seek God first and then seek the other things.” It’s “seek God alone and He will be all you really need.”

“For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” -2 Corinthians 12:10