SHREDDED

One by one I fed the papers through the shredder—all from a file folder representing sadness and disappointment. I tend to have a “helper” personality, but this backfired when I tried to help someone who was deflecting their unhappiness and anger onto me. I'd saved the negative paper trail, trying to make sense of it, Finally, I realized the files had to go in order to help me “let go” of this problem that only God could solve.

Shredding deed done, I sensed the hug of God and the reminder that He would handle this a lot better than I had. Accusations and lies had pummeled my spirit and eroded my health. But I knew God's way was to say “no” to revenge and leave it to Him (Romans 12:17-19). “Forgiving does not mean not facing a problem,” Dr. Henry Cloud wrote in Integrity: The Courage to Meet the Demands of Reality (Harper, 2006, p. 195). “It means facing it and then letting it go.”

In his pastoral role to early churches, Peter also had to deal with suffering believers. He urged them to take the high road—not repaying evil with evil, or insult with insult (1 Peter 4:9). Retaliation wasn't in God's plan. Instead, they were told (and here Peter quoted Psalm 34):

Whoever would love life and see good days must keep his tongue from evil and his lips from deceitful speech. He must turn from evil and do good; he must seek peace and pursue it. For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and his ears are attentive to their prayer. (1 Peter 4:10-12a)

Even though I destroyed that negative correspondence, I take comfort that God has kept a record of my wounds and neediness. In Psalm 56, David reflected on how beat-up he felt as he tried to escape King Saul and ended up in Gath, home to the giant he had killed. Talk about unfriendly escape routes! “All day long they twist my words,” he cried out (56:5). After listing some other afflictions, David affirmed his faith that God saw the bigger picture when these enemies would be turned back:

By this I will know that God is for me. In God, whose word I praise—in God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me? (56:10-11)

How ironic, that words which “cut” me emotionally got “cut” so thoroughly. As I threw the shreds in the garbage, this verse from my very favorite book of the Bible came to mind:

Forgetting what is behind [like that now-shredded correspondence] and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. (Phil. 3:14)

Making 'Psense' of Psalms--Psalm 56: Fears and Tears

A "tear bottle" gift, symbolizing God's
watch-care and profound love

Part of a continuing series on selected psalms.
If you’re at a point where you wonder if life can get any worse, or if you can even hang in there now, this is your psalm. It bleeds with David’s despair over his circumstances and mistreatment by enemies. They’d like him dead. Emotionally wrung out from so many negatives, David lets the tears flow. But he also clings to his last shred of hope: God’s faithfulness.

Like several other psalms (including #34, March 28 blog), Psalm 56 records David’s life-threatening predicament in seeking refuge among tribal enemies, the Philistines (1 Samuel 21:10-15). David had gone alone to Gath, thinking mad King Saul wouldn’t pursue him there. But David was recognized as the one who slayed their native son, the giant Goliath. The introduction to this psalm says the enemy seized him, and the first few verses list hot day-long pursuit, attacks, twisted words, conspiracy, lurking, and eagerness to take his life.

You can almost hear his sighs of hopelessness—indeed, the prelude hints at a melody of sadness when it directs musicians to sing it to the tune of “A Dove on Distant Oaks.” The original tune is unknown, but in Psalm 55 David had prayed, “Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest—I would flee far away and stay in the desert!” He may have identified with the mournful coos of doves, and wished he could fly like them at will to another place. But he couldn’t. Yet out of this place of deep frustration and fear, David finds hope in God. The legacy of Psalm 56 is several verse-gems that, by themselves, have comforted and held steady millions through the ages who also needed to affirm God’s faithfulness.

FEARS AND TRUST

“When I am afraid,” David wrote (v. 3-4), “I will trust in you.  In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid.  What can mortal man do to me?”  In Psalm 55, he had also expressed this idea of trust: “Cast your cares on the LORD, and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous fall” (55:22). I wonder if these were verses the prophet Isaiah also memorized, as he wrote many years later: “You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you” (Isaiah 26:3). And certainly, these verses were part of the spiritual fiber of the early church leaders. Peter wrote, “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7). The author of Hebrews quoted, “The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?” (Hebrews 13:6).

In a quick reading of this psalm, it’s easy to miss another message in verses 10-11, which seem to repeat verses 3-4.  In both, David counsels trusting in God and His Word. In David’s time, that was the Pentateuch (the first five books of the Bible) and maybe Joshua and Judges.  How blessed we are to have not only those, but Psalms and 58 other books of scripture! There’s one tiny word change in verse 10, but it means a lot.  Instead of “in God, whose word I praise” (v. 4), David wrote, “In the LORD, whose word I praise.”  “God” was from a word referring in general to the great God of the universe. “The LORD” was the covenant name of God, which reflected His promises to watch-care His own. In that tiny word, change, David was reminding us of God’s personal and trustworthy care.  How much we need such reminders when the odds seem stacked against us!

Note, too, that David trusts in God and His Word.  I cannot begin to tell you how many times a previously-memorized scripture has come to mind just as the time I needed its reminder of God’s watch-care and direction. David praised God’s Word. He proclaimed its beauty and holy purpose. Should we not do the same?

TEARS AND TRUST

The other memorable portion is verse 8, rendered by King James translators as “Thou tellest my wanderings, put thou my tears in thy bottle; are they not in thy book?” The original Hebrew is a bit sketchy here (original manuscripts had no vowels or pronunciation guides), causing other translators to offer, “Record my lament; list my tears on thy scroll—are they not in thy record?”  Those leaning toward the "tear bottles" translation should know that they were common about a thousand years after David wrote this psalm.  Mourners filled small glass bottles or cups with their tears, placing them in tombs as symbols of respect. Sometimes hired “criers” filled the bottles!  The custom reappeared during the American civil war and in Victorian times.
 

However you translate that portion, these truths emerge.  God does keep track of our circumstances. God does see our every sorrow.  If God had a “tear bottle” (and it would be huge), we’d know how much He loves us and how diligently He takes note of our difficulties.  When He permits hardship and trials, it’s because He knows we will grow in faith through them. It’s a beautiful symbol that we can still use today in comforting those going through unspeakable pain. One of my friends beautifully packages little glass bottles as a comfort gift to those experiencing profound loss.  Her note to them references Psalm 56:8. Several years ago she gave a “tear bottle” with a note about Psalm 56:8 to a young woman who had lost her mother in a car wreck. The young woman still has the bottle, and recently mentioned to my friend how meaningful that gift was.

THANKS AND HOPE

Psalm 56 ends with the plea, “Be merciful to me,” and a huge list of terrorizing circumstances.  Then it concludes with thanksgiving and hope. David acknowledges God’s hand in sparing him from death.  He knows God has a purpose for his life: “that I may walk before God in the light of life” (v. 13). This was a prophetic statement, looking forward to the Messiah, Jesus Christ, who would call Himself the light of the world: “Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). As customary for profound thanks, David wanted to offer up a “thank offering.”  This was a special sacrifice in which part was reserved to share in a meal with family and friends. 

We don’t need to wait until “Thanksgiving” in November to express our thanks to God. It should be a part of every meal (many of us do, anyway, by preceding a meal with a prayer of thanks).  As we look at a lovingly-prepared meal and inhale its fragrance, may we be reminded that every good gift is from above. That includes God’s presence and hope in our most desperate times.

 

Next: Psalm 63.

Red-ripe jewels

It’s raspberry-picking time at the small “patch” in our back yard, meaning every couple days I pick the ripest red jewels and store them in the refrigerator. It takes several days to get the six cups I need to make freezer jam. But oh, how yummy.

I’m a raspberry-picker from w-a-y back as it was my first paid “job” in grade school. One of my dad’s co-workers also had a large berry farm, and was open to having youth come pick. Though I was only about nine, I picked alongside my teenage sister, earning enough to buy my school supplies. Long, hot, dusty days? You know it. But I preferred raspberries over the thorny blackberries we picked at another place.

The other day as I sat on an upended bucket, plying through leaves in search of hidden berries, I thought of how Proverbs 4:2 speaks of seeking wisdom from God: “Search for it as for hidden treasure.”

Like berries, scriptures don’t “ripen” in personal meaning all at once. A passage that seemed “not me” at one point in my life may come alive at a different time. Or, a verse in one chapter may blink like a neon light when I go through a certain hard time. Later on, another part of that chapter will be a guiding light. The other morning, for example, I was reading Psalm 56. In previous times of thinking on this psalm, I’d highlighted verse 8, about God taking special note of our tears. This time, the word “trust” jumped out at me
When I am afraid, I will trust in you. (v. 3)
In God I trust; I will not be afraid. (vs. 4, 11)
David wrote this psalm about being caught between two life-threatening negatives: the murderous rampage of King Saul, and the bloodthirstiness of the Philistines, Israel’s enemy. I’m certainly not running around with my trusty sword and shield, hiding in caves. But I do face invisible enemies of circumstances and relationships beyond my ability to solve or even appease. They’re God-size problems.

That’s probably why “trust” jumped out of this psalm. That word was the treasure with the sweetness of God’s mercy infused in it, ready for “picking” at just this time of need in my life.