The Truth Tellers

It’s the Friday after Thanksgiving, and you probably did this. No, not dived into the crowds wanting “Black Friday” bargains. How about “stood on the scale”? We currently have two scales in our bathroom. The clear one (right) was left behind in a vacated rental that we helped the landlord (a relative) clean out.  A friendly scale, it weighs you two pounds lighter than truth, and can’t be adjusted.  (It will eventually get donated somewhere.) The white scale is our Old Faithful, which gives the brutal facts about true weight. 

I’d like to believe the untruth on “light” scale, but I know the other tells me what I need to know.  The scales also remind me of a story in the book of Daniel with the key verse, “You have been weighed on the scales and been found wanting”  (Daniel 5:26). Well, I’m wanting to weigh less on the “truthful” scales, but we’ll move on from there. The quote comes from an account about a rascal king named Belshazzar, the grandson of more famous Nebuchadnezzar. King B had thrown a party for a thousand noblemen, bringing out the sacred gold and silver goblets they’d raided from the temple in Jerusalem.  While chugging the bubbly, they began praising their various idols.  Suddenly, a giant hand began writing on the wall, bringing a quick end to the party. He finally called in the Hebrew worker Daniel, known for his wisdom in such puzzling situations.  Daniel interpreted the three words written by the giant hand: mene, tekel, and peres. Their meanings (numbered, measured, divided) spelled doom for Belshazzar.  “Tekel”(for “measured”) brings up the idea of double-panned scales used by merchants, like that in the famous blindfolded “Lady Justice” statue of the 1500s. Belshazzar’s sins and arrogance made one side dip to the max, while the other side of true faith was empty.

Now, a disclaimer. A lot of people use the idea of “spiritual scales” the wrong way. They say something on the line of this: “Well, when I die, I guess God will put my good deeds on one scale and the bad on another, and hopefully the good will outweigh the bad so I can go to heaven.”  There’s not a single verse in the Bible to support that. We’re never “good enough” for heaven.  We are able to go there only through accepting Christ’s atoning work on the cross for our sins.

The other problem comes when people think they’re good enough already for Heaven—in other words, the scales are already stacked in their favor.  They echo Job’s opinion that he was so good that he didn’t deserve to suffer: “Let God weigh me in honest scales and he will know that I am blameless” (Job 30:4). In truth, as “good” as he was, Job fell short of perfection. Proverbs 16:2 seems to point to his blind spot: “All a man’s ways seem innocent to him, but motives are weighed by the Lord.”

Instead of trying to affix our own measuring system on God, maybe we need to step back and simply worship Him for His wisdom, power and majesty.  In images that drew from “measurements,” Isaiah did that with a magnificent picture of the God who measured water in the hollow of His hand, marked off the breadth of the heavens, held earth’s dust in a basket, and “weighed the mountains on the scales and the hills in a balance” (see Isaiah 40). Nothing, absolutely nothing, can compare with the greatness of God.

The disparity between God’s purity and our sin is hard to admit. But seeing ourselves as we really are requires that we use the “truth scales” of scripture.  For example, the book of James reveals my spiritual flab in a lot of places: trials, controlling my tongue, guarding against favoritism, helping the poor, avoiding quarrels, not grumbling, and praying in faith. “Humble yourselves before the Lord,” James says, “and he will lift you up” (James 4:10). 

Well, “lifting me up” as I stand on the household “truthful scales” might lower the numbers a bit. But I know wherein I stand, and that’s in need of grace!

Fashion Flub

Always ready for a bargain, I decided I’d go along with my local grocer’s 10%-off everything offer. It involved promoting the state’s professional football team, the Seahawks.  If a customer wore a Seahawk jersey to shop on a Seahawk game day, he’d get that 10% discount. Remembering my husband had a blue Seahawk sweatshirt, I pulled the familiar color off a hanger in his closet and hurried out the door with my shopping list in hand. After filling my basket, I showed up at checkout and said,  “I wore a Seahawk shirt to get today’s special discount.”

The clerk glanced at me and muttered, “A Seahawk jersey.”  “Oh,” I replied, concluding that sweatshirts didn’t come under their “jersey” rule. I didn’t pursue the conversation as there were many customers behind me.  When I got home and took off the sweatshirt, I realized I’d put on another of his sweatshirts, same blue, but this mischievous, old-age message: “I don’t want to, I don’t have to, you can’t make me, I’m retired.”

My blunder has caused gales of laughter among family and friends. Somebody said, “You’ll figure out a blog from that.” Well, I did think of a few things.

*Our clothing can be a billboard of our values.  I’ve seen too many that are offensive beyond words. They’re good for the gutter, and no more.  I’m reminded of a story told of the 19^th century Russsian priest, Father John of Kronstadt. Unlike other clergy of his times, he purposefully went into the impoverished villages near his cathedral to interact with the people.  In the slums, he’d get down in the gutters where drunks were sleeping off their hangovers. He’d cup the man’s chin, look in his eyes and say, “This is beneath your dignity. You were created to house the fullness of God.”  Some of today’s clothing offerings are clearly beneath the dignity of a child of God.

*Our clothing is not all that should clothe us:

“Clothe yourself with the Lord Jesus Christ, and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the sinful nature.” –Paul, Romans 13:14
“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion,kindness, humility, gentleness and patience...Bear with each other...forgive...over all these virtues put on love.” –Paul, Colossians 3:12-14.
“Clothe yourselves with humility toward one another.” –Peter, 1 Peter 5:5
 

That’s the way it should be for those who wear the garments of salvation (Isaiah 61:10)!

Elevator music

I noticed three odd things when I recently walked into one of our large supermarkets. First, the lights were dimmed. Second, all the chilled displays (dairy products, meats and frozen goods) were either tarped or taped shut. Due to a nearby accident, the store had lost all its power and was running only essential things (like the checkout lanes) on generators. Finally, it was quiet except for "people chatter." There was no background music.

My culture has attuned me to having something “in the background” when I’m in a public place. It’s called “elevator music,” and though not confined to elevators, it’s any type of background music intended to please the subconscious.  Usually it’s an arrangement of some popular song, the genre depending on the location. My local mall’s teen fashion store assaults passersby with hard rock. The sounds coming from the manicure store are soft and comforting.

My husband mixes his own brand of “elevator music.”  He likes to have some sort of sound going all the time. The other night it was simultaneously baseball  on the TV and football on the radio. Other times it’s CDs or videos of old-time Gospel ensembles. He often sings along.

When I recently stepped in one of our local thrift shops, a cowboy tune twanged away with the usual plot of “My horse is lame and my woman is vain, and all the hills look the same.”  Some local hee-haw radio station was doing the honors.  When we’re driving somewhere,  either the radio or CD help the miles go faster.  The other afternoon, my husband tuned in a station that plays classical music.  As a sonorous cello piece filled the vehicle, he said, “That is absolutely beautiful.”  I was staring out the window, fighting tears because it really touched my classical-music-lover’s heart.

It’s been said that music can bring out either the beast or best in us. About forty miles from our home is a large outdoor amphitheater known for attracting pop and rock groups...and drugs and disorderly crowds. No, I’ve never been there. But there’s a pile of books next to our piano that reaches deeper into my heart the older I get. Thanks to years of exposure to Christian music, dozens, maybe hundreds, of hymns and choruses “elevate” my spirit. I only have to scan the index of titles or first lines, and snatches of their melodies send me to the page where I can read or sing the lyrics. Even with the memory losses of aging (we have our share of conversations that go like, “Who’s that lady whose husband is thin and I think the name starts with R”?), those melodic jewels of the faith are firmly fastened in my heart.

The other day, I was sad, very sad, over a difficult situation. Yet God seemed to be prompting me to turn my mourning into rejoicing. As I started about my household chores, I recognized a scripture chorus coming to mind. It’s one that combines three verses from psalms: one about entering His gates with thanksgiving (100:4), a second about rejoicing in the day He has made (118:9), and the third about rejoicing because He has made me glad (16:9). All the way through cleaning scrambled egg off the fry pan to treating clothing stains to mopping the floor, that persistent melody and its scriptural words stayed with in me.

My heart was lifted.  And that’s what I’d call true “elevate-her” music.

Possessed by possessions

Among local annual yard sales, this one has to be the biggest. The ad, in fact, bragged that it was the family’s 17^th annual sale.  Extended family, obviously. I found a partial bag of quilt batting.  My husband found a fishing pole. But as we pulled away from the piles (much of it soggy from the previous night’s rain), I found myself asking, “Why so much?” That view of foothills in the background reminded me to “look higher” than the motley collection of used stuff below.

Disclaimer: we have our own “piles,” but we’re working at paring them down.  “Stuff” collects via my husband’s hobby of restoring broken bikes and mowers to usefulness, and recycling quality used children’s books to local schools. I turn fabric scraps into baby blankets for the local hospital to give the homeless or impoverished who deliver there. But there comes a point of too much stuff. When I’m in the home of a hoarder (now classified as an obsessive compulsive behavior), I feel so “closed in” that I can hardly wait to get out.

The Bible says a lot about our possessions:

*Stuff breeds greed.  One day a man came to Jesus wanting His help in an inheritance dispute. Jesus declined, saying, “Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions” (Luke 12:15). Paul put greed in the same list with sexual immorality and impurity, as “not proper for God’s holy people” (Eph. 5:3).

*Too much “stuff” masks the real “us.” When Paul planned a return ministry trip to Corinth, he said he didn’t want to be a burden to them.  He was a low-maintenance missionary, anyway.  He didn’t require a luxury suite with a hot tub. “What I want,” he said, “is not your possessions but you” (2 Cor. 12:14).

*Having less leads to more that truly lasts. When the writer of Hebrews talked about those who were persecuted, even to having their possessions taken away, he remarked, “You...joyfully accepted the confiscation of your property, because you knew that you yourselves had better and lasting possessions” (Hebrews 10:34). Sadly, this wasn’t a First Century incident. It still rings true today for believers in lands hostile to Christians. For a powerful fiction treatment of this, get into Randy Alcorn’s novel, Safely Home.

*Abundance enables sharing. The apostle John lived long enough to see a lot of inequity among the rich and poor. To better-off believers he gave this advice: “If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need, but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him?” (1 John 3:17). My husband is part of a ministry that receives still-useful furniture (from upgrading, downsizing, or estates) to distribute to the very needy (like women fleeing domestic abuse). I’ve been given boxes of fabric by people who learn of my “needy-babies” blanket project.

*Sharing gives back. Someone with a giving heart once remarked to me, “I don’t miss what I gave away.” There’s so much truth in this proverb: “One man gives freely, yet gains even more; another withholds unduly, but comes to poverty” (Proverbs 11:24).

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go through some things I don’t use...like those white dressy heels I wore for my daughter’s wedding.  My once-broken ankle is too weak for heels any more.  And then....

Looking to the rock

It’s known as  “Castlerock,” and the rocky prominence at the edge of my town does seem like a castle. But I like to think of it as “Fortress Rock,” for it seems to have a more military look to it as it guards the valley. It also makes me think of Martin Luther’s hymn, “A Mighty Fortress is our God,” inspired by Psalm 46.

The Psalms repeatedly refer to God as a fortress, strong tower, refuge, bulwark or rampart.  To people who live long ago, these defensive features of walled cities and castles protected them from ground assaults. The era of long-range gunfire and air support changed all that. Today the enemy can sneak and strike within, as we have seen in recent mass shootings like that in a Kenyan mall.

Yet God is bigger than these atrocities that strike our sick, fallen world. Maybe that’s why we need the reminders from scripture that God was, is and forever will be our defense, our fortress, our sure help in time of need.  Of the many psalms that visualize Him in these ways (18, 31, 46, 59, 62, 71, 91, 94), I’m drawn in a special way to Psalm 62. Many of the others are laced with the psalmist’s fears with pleas of “God, help me.” But in Psalm 62, David faces danger with solid faith and trust in God alone. Of particular note is “alone.” Translators had to deal with the Hebrew ‘ak, which has no easy matches to English. Closest are “God only” (NASB) or “God alone” (NIV), which are peppered throughout the text.

The late Dr. James Montgomery Boice, in explaining this psalm, remarked that one problem among today’s Christians is that “we do not trust God only, meaning that we always want to add in something else to trust as well.” In other words, people tend to rely on methodologies and tools to the reduction or exclusion of God’s power.  God can work through people, but our ultimate hope is in God alone.

Psalm 62 brims with affirmations of God’s love and power. It’s a scripture you’ll want to mark up, linking similar terms and repeated words.  In doing so, remember the background of its author.  Before he became king, David was a fugitive from mad King Saul, whom he’d replace. David had to go to “God alone” when enemies attacked and even when his own son tried to usurp the throne.  His enemies wanted to topple him like a feeble fence (v. 3). But he kept his spiritual sights on God alone: his rock, salvation, fortress, salvation, and refuge.

I’m thankful that I can praise God via Luther’s hymn as my “mighty fortress.” I also appreciate the contemporary praise song by Philip McHugh, sung by Steve Green, which lifts this phrase from Psalm 62: “God and God alone.”  When we look to God as our fortress in time of trouble, we can be certain of two things David mentioned in concluding this psalm: God’s love and His power. He will never leave us nor forsake us.  Knowing that, we can find rest in God alone.