Showing posts with label precious. Show all posts
Showing posts with label precious. Show all posts

Friday, December 2, 2016

Just passin' through


I have a weakness of wanting to photograph beautiful places—at least, according to my definition of “beautiful.”  So when my husband recently decided we needed a “date-drive” to see the fall colors, I made sure I took along my little digital camera. Sometimes a setting brings a scripture to mind and I have to ask him to stop.  So it was with this bend of a river in the Eastern Cascades of Washington state.  The prophet Isaiah didn’t have the privilege of beautiful mountain scenery, as I do, but what he wrote in chapter 43 certainly fit what I saw:

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;

And then when you pass through the rivers,

They will not sweep over you. (v. 2)

For months, I have had that verse on a sticky note on the upper ledge of my desk. Isaiah had in mind the crossing of the Red Sea as the Hebrews escaped enslavement in Egypt. You don’t need Hollywood’s technical team “holding back the water” to realize this miracle (Exodus 14) had to be of God. It was also a demonstration of God’s love for people who had lived under unbearable treatment by Egyptians. I didn’t face, as did the Hebrews, slaughter coming up behind me. But in navigating life’s unknowns and hard places, I’ve known times when I had to go forward in raw faith for God’s provision and intervention.  


This photo doesn’t show what’s around the next bend, and that’s part of His wisdom. Faith means a step-by-step dependence on God, trusting His love and protection.


After you finish reading this blog, open your Bible to beginning of Isaiah 43.  If you haven’t already, take a highlighter to the verses that speak to your heart. Don’t leave out verse 4.  Its truths about God’s character are marked in my Bible with a red asterisk:

…you are precious and honored in my sight…I love you.

Friday, August 28, 2015

The Junk Jungle

I hesitate to use the words “treasure chest” or “bargains galore,” but about an hour’s drive away there’s a junk store we always visit when in that town.  My husband walks around back to the recycling area where he can harvest parts off broken bikes for less-broken ones he’s trying to restore to usefulness.  I step carefully through the guardians of the front door: tired sofas, television shelves and other furniture ingloriously stored outside in all sorts of weather.  Want to reupholster furniture?  Have they got a deal for you.  Inside, the warehouse is crammed. Mattresses are stacked sideways like slices in a loaf of bread, and you weave down aisles between mountains of stuff on top of stuff on top of stuff.

Then there’s the “kitchen room,” with its teetering shelves of kitchenware, baskets, frames, and knickknacks.  Dusty? That’s understatement.  I venture in there in search of older cast iron fry pans for a friend who cleans and re-sells them in an antique mall. But as I round the corner to go out, I have conflicting feelings about the conglomerate of little figurines, cookie jars, china tea cups, and other decorative things dumped here.  Most were likely leftovers from emptying a home after death. At one point, they represented something to the person who owned them.  Now they’re like those recently unburied terra cotta soldiers in China--relics of mystery.
 
The “junk jungle” brings two big ideas to me.  One is that we keep so much stuff!  We attach great importance to things that cannot love us back.  Yes, I have some “tokens of memories” around.  But trying to dispose of my late mother’s enormous salt and pepper shaker collection cured me of taking up a hobby that involved amassing “like things.” I wonder what sort of things people collected in Bible times. We know that women wore headpieces or jewelry with gold coins as part of their dowry, a real-life insurance policy if something happened to a spouse.  And people probably just liked “nice” things. I think of the rich young man who said he was spiritually “right” by keeping all the commandments since his youth.  But when Jesus asked him to sell all he owned and give to the poor, he couldn’t do that.  “Stuff” and riches held him back (Mark 10).
 
The second thought that comes as I circle that cluttered “junque” room is the unfathomable love of God.  We may feel like rejected, dusty, chipped trinkets that nobody wants any more. But God doesn’t see us that way. What the prophet Isaiah said of God’s value system (here, regarding Israel, but in the bigger picture also us) helps me envision Him going in that junk room and taking one dusty, neglected piece after another and saying, “I have chosen you. You are precious to me.”  Or, as the scripture passage puts it:
You are precious and honored in my sight....I love you. (Isaiah 43:4)
Many of the items at that thrift store have no marked price, so when you go to pay, the person in charge of the cash register says what he or she feels is an appropriate price.  Sometimes you can bargain, but usually not.  And here’s where the analogy breaks down.  “Stuff” has little value in the junk store. But we're not unwanted castoffs. We're are so valuable to God that He paid the highest price imaginable for us—the death of His son, Jesus.

Friday, August 1, 2014

Making 'Psense' of Psalms--Psalm 116: Precious

Delicate wildflowers, flourishing on the forest's decay,
a picture of new life from death
Part of an ongoing series on selected psalms.
It was the last place I wanted to be: beside my mother’s deathbed. She was only 59 as cancer knocked her down for the last time. My dad’s call had come that afternoon at my workplace, a three-hour drive away.  “Come as soon as you can,” he pleaded. When I reached home barely four hours later, a neighbor was waiting to take me to the hospital in the next city. Sometime during our death-watch that night, Dad opened a Bible and read to her. I’ve since learned that hearing is one of the last senses to go, so I believe she did hear his voice, though her struggle to breathe may have fogged the words. But these were words that I needed to hear as well:
What shall I render unto the LORD for all his benefits toward me?
I will take the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the LORD.
I will pay my vows unto the LORD now in the presence of all his people.
Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints. (Psalm 116:12-15 KJV)
About 2 a.m. a nurse suggested we go home and get some sleep. “She could last another day,” the nurse said.  So I drove my exhausted father home. He went to bed, I settled on the couch so I could hear the phone. The nurse’s call telling of Mom’s death came about 4 a.m. Though I would have wished to be with her at the end, I knew that she was truly not alone.  Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints, and surely His presence was in that hospital room.

To this day, I cannot read Psalm 16 without tears. Yet I have discovered that it offers a good portion of hope and praise. It is positioned in the book of Psalms as one of the “Hallel” psalms, which includes Psalms 113 through 118.  “Hallel” means “praise,” and these psalms were intended to sung on holy days. Psalms 113-114 were sung before the Passover meal, and 115-118 as the meal closed. They were also sung at major Jewish feasts. Two gospels detail how Jesus led His disciples in the Passover meal (what we now call “The Last Supper”), and afterwards, “when they had sung  a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives” (Matt. 26:20, Mark 14:26). These psalms, including Psalm 116, were among the last to come from the Savior’s lips before His arrest, trials and crucifixion.  And truly, precious in the sight of the Lord was the death of His only Son.

The psalm hinges on two big ideas: deliverance and thanksgiving.

DELIVERANCE (VV. 1-11)
The opening verse sets the tone of gratitude for deliverance: “I love the LORD, for he heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy” (116:1). He backs this up with descriptive language of a tough, even life-threatening situation: “cords of death,” “anguish of the grave,” “overcome by trouble and sorrow.” Some Bible teachers wonder if this might describe the sickness, perhaps an infected boil, that took King Hezekiah to the brink of death before the “poultice of figs” was applied (Isaiah 38).  The psalm doesn’t list an author, so that’s just conjecture. But it could represent any of us who walk in a doctor’s office to a sobering diagnosis, or have our lives flipped upside down in an accident.

The author spends little time on his ailment, but more on God’s perspective. “Then I called on the name of the LORD: ‘O LORD, save me!” In “calling on the name of the Lord,” he describes God’s character: gracious, righteous, full of compassion, protective of the simple-hearted (vv. 5-6). Praising God’s character lifts him above “demanding” prayer.

A word on “simple-hearted” (Hebrew: petî)—it refers to silly and gullible people. To say God regards the “simple-hearted” in their foolish or ignorant ways reminds us that we come to Him without any merit of our own, except through His Son.

The bottom line is that God hears the prayers of the helpless. This psalm’s writer found himself “in great need”—a tearful, stumbling, life-or-death matter. He had a miserable outlook, saying all men are liars (v. 11).  God saw through all that, and reached down to help him.

THANKSGIVING
As the writer considers what God has done for him, he responds with thanksgiving:
How can I repay the LORD for all his goodness to me; I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the LORD. (vv. 12-13)
This verse is a rhetorical question.  How can we “repay” God for His goodness? We can’t. It is impossible. But the psalm writer was compelled to express his thanks some way, and so he turned to a ritual of his time, described in Leviticus 7:11ff and Deuteronomy 12:17ff.  He would bring a “thank offering” (an unblemished animal) to the sanctuary for sacrifice. In part of the ritual, the priest would pour a portion of wine on the altar, symbolizing the worshipper’s life poured out before the Lord.  This is the “cup of salvation.”  The priest also kept back part of the meat from the slaughtered, sacrificed animal for the worshiper to share in a special joyful feast with family and friends. During that feast, he’d express public thanks for God’s mercy and love. 

Verse 15, which touched me so deeply at my mother’s deathbed, has prompted a lot of discussion among Bible teachers:
Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.
“Precious” also means “costly.” The death of a “saint” reminds us that sin brought death into the world, but Christ’s death brought eternal life to those who trust in Him.  His death (and resurrection) was costly beyond all understanding. A saint’s death is “precious” to God because it means that person will come to enjoy His presence. Like the psalmist, Paul wrestled with the possibility of dying soon when he wrote his letter to the Philippians. His only desire was that Christ be exalted either by his life or his death. “I desire to depart and be with Christ,” he said, “which is better by far” (Philippians 1:23). 

It is human to fear death. I will never forget the night a drinking driver nearly wiped out my family. But it is the privilege of a believer to trust God for the timing of death. He permits us to stay on earth until He sees that our work here is finished.  We may die of disease or an accident, but the timing is no surprise to God. And after that, “to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21). That transition is precious to God.

And so the psalmist ends at this feast in which he praises God. Apparently it happens in the temple courts (v. 18), where his friends and family and more will hear his story. The psalm concludes, “Praise the Lord,” which in Hebrew is, “Hallelu-jah.” The phrase is common to all of the “Hallel” psalms (113-118) and that is appropriate.  For whether we are making a costly public declaration of faith (like the psalmist’s sacrifice-feast) or quietly witnessing the transition of earthly life to eternal rest, the focus of our hearts should be God Almighty, who loves to hear us lift up His name.
Next: Psalm 118