EUPHEMISTICALLY CORRECT

The dreary, dead-of-winter months can really drag us down, especially those prone to feeling wrung out. I have one of those “happy lights” (mimicking healthy sunlight) by my desk. I also seek out positive ways to relate to everyday spiritual challenges. That's why a few years ago I decided to read Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones' book, Spiritual Depression (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1965). Trained as a doctor, he'd seen his share of depressed patients. But as a Bible scholar, he also dispensed scriptural wisdom about circumstances and people who get us “down.”

In his chapter titled “Fear of the Future,” Lloyd-Jones referred to 2 Timothy 1:7: “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind” (KJV). Timothy, who was the apostle Paul's young protege pastor, needed a reminder that God was sufficient in every way as he pastored some challenging church plants. The same truth applies to us in whatever spiritual challenges we face. Lloyd-Jones remarked of Paul's words for God's enabling:

Though you and I may be timorous and nervous, the Spirit that God has given us is the Spirit of control, the Spirit of discipline, the Spirit of judgment. (p. 104)

He illustrated this point with a story from English history in the mid-to-late 1600s. At that time, the commoners were at odds with the Stuart line of kings for interfering in the affairs of the Presbyterian church of Scotland. Actually, “at odds” is a bland term for the severe penalties faced by the common Scottish believers who called themselves “Covenanters.”

The story goes like this. A young girl (from a Covenanter family) was headed toward a secret, prohibited communion service when stopped by the king's soldiers. Her freedom, perhaps even her life, were at stake. Her conscience would not permit her to lie. Instead, she used euphemisms in explaining her trip:

“My Elderly Brother has died and they are going to read His will this afternoon, and He has done something for me and has left something for me, and I want to hear them read the will.”

Yes, at that critical moment, she replied with power, love and a sound mind, and they let her go. Her “elder brother” who had died was Christ. At the communion service, she would hear His “will” read (scripture), reviewing what He had done for her and left for her.

Lloyd-Jones remarked of this illustration, intended to encourage those prone to spiritual depression:

Instead of allowing the future and thoughts of it to grip you, talk to yourself, remind yourself of who you are and what you are, and of what Spirit is within you; and , having reminded yourself of the character of the Spirit, you will be able to go steadily forward, fearing nothing, living in the present, ready for the future, with one desire only, to glorify Him who gave His all for you. (p. 105)

During winter's gray days (especially for those of us in colder climates), it's a message of Light worth “soaking in”...and practicing. God is able to give us the right words—and the right attitude—when we depend on Him! 

Worth repeating when you look out on a gray day: "This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it" (Psalm 181:24 KJV). 

LIGHT-BEARERS

The summer and winter Olympics begin and end—so appropriately—with a torch. From Greece, birthplace of the Olympics, a torch is ignited via the sun-reflected heat in a parabolic mirror, then begins its journey to the current games site. There’s a lot of pagan mythology in the torch background, but it’s a good cousin to this décor saying:

Be the light.

The Olympic flame has an on-again, off-again world-wide life.  In contrast, Jesus is all-on.

[Jesus] said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12)

To this statement, the religious types of His day complained, “You’re just saying that about yourself.  Who would back that up?” (John 8:13).

He replied that He did have a witness to His claim to be the light: His Father in heaven (John 8:14-19).

That was tough teaching for folks who figured “righteous living” depended on keeping umpteen hundred little laws handed down (and invented) through antiquity. Of such people, the apostle John wrote, “The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it” (John 1:5). They weren’t expecting God to visit this planet!

Later on, in the letter written in his old-age, the apostle John urged right and “light” living, as opposed to religious “pretenders” whose man-imposed rules for living and behavior just kept them in spiritual darkness:

God is light; in him there is no darkness at all.  If we claim to have fellowship with him yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live by the truth.  But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin. (1 John 1:5-7)

That quote is powerful.  Re-read it. It reviews two choices: to walk down life’s road in the darkness of grudges, bitterness, fear and other negative attributes. Or to get so close to Jesus that we bask in His glow.  The ritual for the Olympic torch begins with the heat of the sun. We have so much better: the Sun of Righteousness, who has risen with healing in His wings (Malachi 4:2).

THOSE THORNY QUESTIONS

Buds are emerging on our rose stems, but oh, the thorns!

Why is life at times so thorny? I’ve asked myself that many times in the past few years—and not just during my spring rose-pruning duties. Thorny problems and relationships are part of our sin-filled world. We usually complain about them. But I was recently reminded of the better perspective expressed by Dr. George Matheson (1842-1906), a renowned Scottish preacher who endured life blind:

My God, I have never thanked Thee for my thorn.  I have thanked thee a thousand times for my roses, but not once for my thorn.  I have been looking forward to a world where I shall get compensated for my cross, but I have never thought of my cross as itself a present glory.  Teach me the value of my thorn.

Of course, any reference to a “spiritual thorn” leads inevitably to Paul’s use of that term. At some time (perhaps when nearly stoned to death?) he had a vision of Heaven, too wonderful to express in earthly terms.

But to keep me from getting puffed up, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger from Satan to torment me and keep me from getting proud.  Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away.  Each time he said, “My gracious favor is all you need.  My power works best in your weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may work through me. Since I know it is all for Christ’s good, I am quite content with my weaknesses and with insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:7b-10 NLT)

What was the thorn?  Nobody knows.  Some ideas: malaria, epilepsy, an eye disease (inferred from Galatians 4:13-15). Whatever, it was chronic and debilitating, interfering with his ministry. Its presence kept Paul humble and dependent on God to just get through the day.  Somehow, seeing Paul’s strength in weakness inspired those around him who had their own version of a disabling “thorn.”

And these lessons still apply. We’re tempted to rely on our own cleverness or abilities to get by in life. But when we’re faced with our true selves, we have a choice: curl up and complain, or trust God for His will in His time.

I sense that lesson in Dr. Matheson. When he aspired to become a pastor—just as his sight was going—naysayers probably suggested it wouldn’t work out. But God provided a way through his devoted sister, who herself learned Greek, Latin and Hebrew to help him in his theological studies. Throughout his life she helped with his pastoral and calling duties.

Most hymnals still include “O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go,” whose lyrics came to him with such fluency and speed one night that he attributed it to “a dayspring from on high”—the Lord’s inspiration.  The key words of its four verses are “love,” “light,” “joy,” “cross.” All remind me of the Lord Jesus, the One who showed us God’s love.  Who called Himself the “Light of the World.”  And who, “for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:2 NIV).

All because of a Love that will not let us go.

He is risen! He is risen indeed!

Love lights

"It makes a circle!” my three-year-old grandson declared as he played with a flashlight he pointed at the ceiling. I chuckled over how he was showing off his command of “shape” words. If only he knew how the study of light has baffled and intrigued scientists for ages! Maybe, if he takes a bent toward art, he will find enjoyment in portraying light patterns.

Recently, as I prayed over and grieved a dark situation with people I know, I sensed the Lord pushing me to read again the “light” verses of First John. I’d already been thinking about “light,” after my husband “romanticized” our evening meal of leftovers with a candle in a Haitian-made clay pot with cutouts, a gift from a friend who did mission work there. Initially, it reminded me of this scripture:

For God who said, “let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God, and not from us. (2 Corinthians 4:6-7).

As a “clay jar” I try to reach out to others with God’s grace and light.  But sometimes it's hard to shine before others. I think that’s why I recently felt a God-nudge to reread the counsel of the apostle John, written before his old-age death:

If we claim to have fellowship with him yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live by the truth.(1 John 1:6)

If anyone says, “I love God,” yet hates his brother, he is a liar.  For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. (1 John 4:20)

By the way, “brother” is a gender-neutral term for someone in the family of God, whether or not they’re blood related. I find these verses very sad because they highlight the alienation that results from broken relationships.

But it doesn’t have to be that way:

But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin. (1 John 1:7)

I’d rather be in that type of a “circle of light”!

Double illumination

Because my husband was once part of an international layman’s Bible distribution ministry, we tend to check drawers for Bibles when we rent a room at motels. We weren’t disappointed during a recent overnight stay. But there was something else in the drawer: a “light stick” for emergencies. That made sense for a remote facility where winds or heavy snow could take down the power grid for a time.

I’m not quite sure of the chemistry behind them, but they apparently glow enough to help you find your way around.  The good side is they don’t rely on batteries. The bad: they’re disposable.  One used, they must be tossed, never to light up again. As soon as I saw the light-stick, I thought of one of my first Bible memory verses.  Perhaps you already guessed:

Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path. (Psalm 119:105)

Written before electric lights, flashlights, or even chemical light wands, the Bible has many references to light. Among them:

The commands of the Lord are radiant, giving light to the eyes. (Psalm 19:8)
The entrance of your words gives light; it gives understanding to the simple. (Psalm 119:130)
For these commands are a lamp, their teaching is a light, and the corrections of discipline are the way to life. (Proverbs 6:23)

Jesus called Himself “the Light of the World” (John 8:12). The apostle John, his understanding of spiritual truths shaped by the Light of Jesus, made frequently used the analogy:

This is the message we have heard from Him and declare to you: God is light and in Him there is no darkness at all. (1 John 1:5)

Here’s an idea.  Take your Bible and a highlighter (the waxy type, sold in bookstores, doesn’t bleed through thin paper). Highlight all the references to “light” in the book of 1 John. Then go over to Revelation 22:5, which is the vision of Heaven John received:

There will be no more night.  They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light.

 It’s hard for me to wrap my mind around that.  I won’t need my Bible in heaven!  All confusion and mysteries will be past, and what is now just a shadow will be fully known in the blazing, glorious presence of God Himself!

PERSONAL NOTE:
This week our family experienced a special "light": the birth of a granddaughter named "Eleanor," which coincidently means "light."  What a joy to hold this little one born to our daughter and husband, marvel at God's creative power in the womb, and anticipate what's ahead.  She's our third "grand" after two boys, now 3 1/2 and 22 months, born to our son and wife.  Because I married later in life, it's an extraordinary privilege to live to "grandparent" and influence another generation.

Making 'Psense' of Psalms--Psalm 27: Light

Part of a continuing series of selected Psalms.
When I sense cares and worries trying to take over, I check my “light intake.”  Are the curtains and blinds open during the day, so I get enough sunshine? Am I augmenting that with walks to ward off Seasonal Affective Disorder (with its appropriate acrostic SAD)?   More important, am I seeking  the spiritual “light therapy” of Psalm 27?  Best known for its opening line, “The Lord is my Light,” Psalm 27 is for any of us who need the reminder that God is greater than life’s dark times. The psalm’s subtitle simply says, “Of David.” The descriptions of danger fit the years David lived in constant fear of being killed before assuming the throne. The middle section of the psalm contains a “lament” or woe-is-me section. But it’s sandwiched by affirmations that God is on his side.

I find it interesting that the composer of a famous operatic rendering of Psalm 27 also struggled with life. Mary Francis Allitsen (1848-1912) hoped to make a living as musician, but her family was hostile toward that choice. She suffered health issues, including the loss of her singing voice, yet managed to have several musical compositions published and performed. Her “The Lord is My Light,” published in 1897, is based on Psalm 27:1-6. But to fully understand Psalm 27, we need verses 7-14. After David expresses confidence in God (vv. 1-6), he admits his anxious fears (7-12), then returns to trusting God (13-14). Each part has a generous portion of memorable phrases and truths.

LIGHT, SALVATION, STRONGHOLD

Verse 1, “The Lord is my light,” is the only time in the Old Testament that God is actually called “light.” The metaphor appears more frequently in the New Testament. John began his gospel referring to God as “light” (John 1:4, 9). He repeated it in his epistle: “God is light” (1 John 1:5). Jesus even called Himself “the light of the world” (John 8:12). Revelation 21:23 says heaven’s illumination will be God, “for the glory of God gives it light.” It’s a metaphor that defies a simple definition, characterizing God’s purity, power to dispel darkness, joy, life and hope.

David also calls God “my salvation,” or deliverer. God is a “stronghold” (“strength” in the KJV), from a Hebrew word for a fortified place. The point is that God isn’t “out there” when life get hard. Because He is with us, we need not fear. The New Testament counterpart to this is Romans 8:31: “If God is for us, who can be against us?” No matter the strategy of the enemy—a quick attack or a long siege—David placed his trust in God to carry him through.

The source of David’s amazing trust is fellowship with God (vv. 4-6). As a fugitive, David couldn’t worship at “God’s house” in Jerusalem (then a sacred tent sheltering the ark; the magnificent temple wouldn’t be built until Solomon’s time). Although yearning for the energy of corporate worship in Jerusalem, David found ways in his wilderness exile to draw close to God.  In expressing a desire to “dwell in the house of the Lord” (v. 4), David may have been thinking of hospitality customs of his times. In the ancient Near East, when someone welcomed another into his tent, he took responsibility for the visitor’s protection and provision. David put that frame on his relationship with God: “For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling” (v. 5). He adds the picture of being safely perched on a strong, high rock that enemies cannot scale (v. 5).

DARK, LONELY, VULNERABLE

 Right after this magnificent declaration of trust, David rides a pendulum to the other side. The darkness seems to hide God’s face, a symbol of divine favor. David realizes he’s a sinful human, calling out to a holy God. This sounds a lot like what we might hear today from people: “I’m not good enough for God to hear my prayer,” or “I never got into this God-thing.  Why would He listen to me?” Such comments miss the truth of God’s mercy.

In imagining God’s rejection, David also felt very lonely, like a child rejected by his parents. As far as known, David’s parents never disowned him. But this verse has resonated with many people who had imperfect parents who weren’t there for them or who hurt them physically or emotionally. This “what-if” has a hopeful ending: “Though my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will receive me” (v. 10). God is the perfect parent—a fact that has helped many people wounded by their families. David also felt vulnerable before foes who used both physical and verbal weapons (vv. 11-12). He was anxious and discouraged, the emotional opposites of his opening declarations of confidence.

 

RETURN TO CONFIDENCE

The psalm has a real-world ending. Our life stories don’t always take the plot lines we desire. Good people suffer. Bad people seem to win—for now. But God is still on the throne. He does answer prayer—either “yes,” “no,” “another way,” or—as this psalm points out, “wait”:
            Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. (v. 14)
David could be satisfied without instant solutions because He believed that God, as light, was at work in dispelling the dark fears and anxieties of his life. Right now, the curtains of life seemed locked shut. But He trusted God in the darkness, and in faith was willing to wait. How much like the New Testament’s definition of “faith”: “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” (Hebrews 11:1)!

Psalm 27 teaches us to take things a day at a time with God. Faith and trust are the cords that can part the curtains of our “Sin Affective Disorder,” letting the brilliance of God’s perfect light pour in.    

Next time: Psalm 32   

Night light

Not just any night light would do for Zach—or so I learned one night as I tucked my toddler son in bed. As a no-frills parent (for the most part), I’d picked up a cheap, basic-white night light to allay those inevitable fears in the night. For several months it served well. Then came the night it wasn’t good enough. He’d enjoyed a bath with his favorite rubber ducky and “Bucky Beaver” washcloth. We had “story time” and prayed, or as much as possible with a toddler who barely talked. Then, to my surprise at “lights-out,” he fussed about his night light. To answer my “what’s wrong?” he toddled out of bed, found a certain sale catalog in the paper stack, and pointed out to me the ad for a green “glow worm”-character night light.

“You want that?” I asked. His very serious toddler face told me I’d figured it out. “Tomorrow, I’ll go to the store,” I said. “Not tonight.” I wasn’t sure if my voice sounded like the whomp womp womp of adults in Peanuts cartoons, but he seemed assured. How did he ever decide his life wouldn’t be complete without this nightlight? I guess either his dad or I had used this sale circular for lap time reading, maybe to point out names of items in the ad as part of language building. A photo became a “want.” He grew up with that night light glowing for years in his bedroom. It even went to college. Now it’s in a kitchen outlet of the home he shares with his wife. Seeing it when I visit them makes me smile to think of his very young consumer choices.

I also think about my older-adult needs for a “night light.” Yes, I need the “real thing” in the hall for nighttime treks to the bathroom, to keep me from falling over the cat who sometimes sleeps right in the middle of the hall. I also need a spiritual “night light” for life’s dim and dark places. I depend on the assuring presence of One who called Himself the Light of the World, who said He would never leave me nor forsake me.

“The Lord is my light and my salvation,” David proclaimed (Psalm 27:1). Long one of my favorite psalms, it’s full of rich and encouraging images of God’s protection and sustaining power. I consider my unworthiness as the psalmist speaks of God’s searchlight on my heart (verses 7-12). Then I find comfort in the confident claim of God’s trustworthiness in turmoil and trouble, even when the solution to our problems seems slow in coming: “I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD.”

My favorite part of the psalm is verse 4, where David writes of gazing “on the beauty of the Lord.” It always makes me pause in wonder of what’s ahead in Heaven. I know this: no night lights needed. All will be bright as we behold the glory of God!