PROTECTED (PSALM 121)

My mother, whose hobbies included oil-painting, did this art of

Mount Rainier for me. A few months later she died of cancer.

I know I’m in trouble when I lapse into the thinking that “it’s just me against the world.” When I feel overwhelmed by negative people or circumstances, I’m in a downward spiral—until I look spiritually “up”…to God.

I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. (121:1-2)

I don’t lift my eyes to the “ills”—the problems—but to the higher, invisible presence of God.

Some of my reminders to do that come from paintings or photos in my home of Mount Rainier, the 14,000-feet-plus snow-capped, sleeping volcano that squats above the valley where I grew up. In that area’s rainy climate, it wasn’t always visible. But on sunny days, if I went to the end of the street to peek between rooftops, I could see it and report back home, “The mountain is out.” I’m aware that scientists say it could, like Mount St. Helens, cause great damage and loss of life if it ever erupted. Still, whenever I read the opening words of Psalm 121, in my memory I “look to the hills” (and this mountain) because my human tendency in thinking of God is to look “up.” In doing so, I remember that Christ ascended into heaven, wherever that is in the mystery of God.

When I learned that Psalm 121 was one of the psalms “of ascent,” sung by pilgrims headed to Jerusalem (“up” in the hills), I better understood why it referred to the “hills.” These people, traveling to their Holy City, were looking “to the hills” for the first evidence of Jerusalem’s temple. The primitive route there, however, harbored risk. Besides harsh weather, snakes and other animal dangers, they were vulnerable to bandits. But they focused instead on what was ahead: the religious celebrations and reunions with other God-followers. These would remind them that their true help wasn’t in rituals but from their Creator God.

WATCHED

Five times the psalmist refers to God as watching us. He watches us instead of “sleeping” (vv. 3-4) He watches as a protective shade (v. 5). He watches out for possible harm to us (v. 7), and our comings and goings (v. 8). Does that mean bad things will never happen?  Of course not. We experienced “harm” when involved in two serious auto wrecks caused by drivers who were allegedly drinking or just plain careless. But was God there? Of course! In the midst of the frantic and scary stuff, He hadn’t left us.

Paul experienced that through many life-threatening situations—stonings, mob attacks, bandits, intrigue, shipwreck (check out the list in 2 Corinthians 11)--yet left this golden verse in his letter to the Philippians:

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:7)

Bandits called discouragement and doubt still hide behind the boulders of life’s journey. They’re “bandits” because they want to take away what is most precious to us, and that is peace with God. Depression can slither in from such attacks. At such times I need to get my eyes off the rocks in the path and up to the destination: of communion with the God whose ultimate goal is fellowship now and forevermore (v. 8).

Reflections on reflections

Fiction writers sometimes revert to the “mirror trick” in describing a charter’s physical characteristics. They will have that person look into a glass or water mirror, their inner thoughts adding the details that help us “see” him or her.  Like this (go ahead and snicker at my  feeble fiction skills):
As Harold buzzed the stubble off his chin, he leaned into the bathroom mirror wondered why he hadn’t noticed the puffy bags under his eyes before.  He ran a brush through his thinning hair and groaned over how many were gray.  And those hairs hanging out his ears made him think of a dried-out tassel on a withered ear of corn.

The Bible had some thoughts about reflections, too.  Proverbs 27:10 says,

As water reflects a face, so a man’s heart reflects the man.

That verse came to mind recently when my husband and I traveled up the picturesque Methow Valley in central Washington state.  We passed by beautiful Patterson Lake, whose placid early-morning waters mirrored the shoreline trees.  Parts of the lake were a perfect reflection; others had already been stirred, probably by fishermen, blurring and shortening the reflection.

I thought of how when we reflect and love and peace of Jesus, it’s evident in our faces.  We’re approachable.  I have several friends like that—and how I enjoy being with them! But I have other friends who are plagued by anxiety or disappointment. The “peace of Christ that passes all understanding” (Philippians 4:7) seems to have been drained from them. It’s hard to describe, but you just know.

It may seem strange to think that God is in the face-lift business and we lift our faces to Him—but He is. The apostle Paul picked up on that heart-to-face connection when he said those in relationship with Christ “with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory [and] are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory” (2 Corinthians 3:18).

At times my “reflection” properties are in need of improvement, like those stirred lake waters that were no longer mirrors.  Thankfully, God is on the other side of the mirror.  He sees the exterior (like the morning chin stubble on our fiction model “Harold”) but He also sees deep within us to who we can become in Him.

Now, that’s worth reflecting on!

Oh, those robber robins!

 

Robins were not my dad’s favorite birds, at least when they tried to harvest the crop off his small blueberry patch. He had planted about six bushes by his work shed, and as they matured, the plump, tasty berries became a banquet hall for the local bird population. Finally, he caged the entire patch with chicken wire, an enclosure that was six feet tall with a door so we could still go in and pick them. Sometimes, however, a little gap at the bottom of the enclosure was all it took for an enterprising robin to sneak in and feast away.

Despite the haul of bandit birds, we picked enough to freeze for our enjoyment through the year. My memories of fresh-picked blueberries resulted in planting a few bushes at the back of our garage. And guess what.  The robins found them. Although these berries lacked the size and flavor of those from my childhood,  the bushes still brought the enjoyment of summer’s “blue gold."

I couldn’t build a wire cage for them, so draped them instead with bird-deterring netting. The robins still found a way in, but I settled for a less-than-perfect system.

My “berry guard” system got me thinking about spiritual guards.  Psalm 91 speaks of God guarding us when surrounded by evil. But the scripture I cherish most about “guarding” is from Philippians, written by a weary apostle who was “guarded” by hardened Roman soldiers as he served out an indefinite sentence for preaching Christ.

“Rejoice!” Paul wrote, likely as chains clanged from his wrists. “Be gentle!  Pray about everything! Be thankful! Tell God your needs!”  And then:

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:7)

One of the misconceptions about being a Christian that I had to work through in my early faith walk was that all would be hunky-dory once I crossed the line to say “Jesus is my Savior.”  Some problems will fade as our values and priorities change to good. But we live in a fallen world, and problems will come. Instead of robins after blueberries, those pesky crows and vultures of “fallen-ness” will attack when we least expect.

What are we to do? Rejoice! Be gentle! Pray! Be thankful! Tell God your needs! So doing will “guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” And the sweetness of knowing the Savior—far sweeter than the plumpest blueberry, for sure!—will help feed a Christ-hungry world.

Guard cats and fear alarms

Because it had a likeness of our black-and-gray tabby, named Augie, our neighbor couldn’t resist buying me this sign for the window: “Beware: Guard cat on duty.” Ha! The only thing he guards is his food dish. Whenever he comes inside, he pads over to his water and food dishes and sits about eighteen inches away from them like, Read my mind. Thus I was a bit amused the other day when I answered the door to a muscular fireman and his petite woman assistant. I was expecting them for a smoke alarm program the fire department is conducting. But I wasn’t prepared for his opening remark: “Do you have a cat? Would you please put him out? We’re allergic to cats.”

Dutifully I scooped the lazy lug from his sleeping corner and deposited him in the chilly shock of “outside.” They proceeded with their ten-minute smoke alarm business. When they got ready to leave, Augie was waiting on the front porch, eager to get back to the warm indoors. The sight of him alarmed (no pun intended) the woman assistant, who again pleaded “allergy!” So once again I had to remove the cat, this time from the porch. Funny, there were no allergy flare-ups while they were in our home (which has eleven years' worth of cat dander in it). And our overweight, geriatric feline is the antithesis of vicious, with the rare exception of guarding the back yard from Pancho Villa and Ho Chi Minh (my nicknames for the local desperado cats who dare to invade his home turf). They haven’t been around much since I threw a rotten tomato in their yowling direction.

Our cat’s wimpy representation of the idea of “guarding” helped me appreciate even more the spiritual concept of “guard.” Even a thousand burly firemen (not the “allergic” ones) can’t come close to the “guarding” we’re promised in Philippians 4:7: “And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (KJV). One of the key words in this passage is “keep” (more accurately, “guard” in NIV, NASB, ESV, and the New King James). The Amplified version puts it: “shall garrison and mount guard over your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”

The translation makes a difference. “Keep” has a passive sense, like putting a keepsake in a cedar chest. “Guard” implies deliberate, powerful action. The original Greek, phroureo, was a military term and referred to guarding in a garrison. Of this, Greek scholar W.E. Vine remarked that it described not just protection but “inward garrison as by the Holy Spirit.” One Bible scholar said it’s the peace of “holy repose” that floods the believer’s soul when he leans hard on God. It’s being able to say, “The news or situation is bad, but God is bigger than this and I will trust Him.” Or, as Frances Ridley Havergal wrote in the refrain to the beloved hymn “Like a River Glorious”:
Stayed upon Jehovah,
Hearts are fully blessed;
Finding, as He promised,
Perfect peace and rest.
Remember that, next time your “fear alarm” goes off. Your Holy Guard stands ready.