REINFORCED

Our neighbor recently had her cement driveway replaced, giving us some instructional entertainment on how it’s done. So many steps! Breaking up and hauling away the old, broken pieces. Smoothing the surface, bringing in and leveling gravel, dividing sections, laying rebar and then more prep before the cement truck rumbled down our street and dumped the mix. Then stirring and smoothing to remove air pockets, final cosmetic touches, and a wait….at least four days…before it was cured enough to drive on.

The rebar step really spoke to me. The way I understand it, those strong steel rods help absorb and distribute the pressures from the weight of a car. They are the driveway’s foundation. Similarly, the apostle Paul (long before cement technology!) remarked:

For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. (1 Cor. 3:11 NIV)

In this section he was addressing church divisions that had resulted from following certain spiritual teachers. Paul made it clear that he put down the true and basic foundation of faith in Christ as Savior. Any teaching that deviated from that—such as trusting in works or peripheral ideas—didn’t belong in the church. And not just the “church,” as interpreted as a certain gathering of believers. Each of us who is connected to Christ in faith is where God’s spirit dwells—in Paul’s phrase, “a temple.”

Sometimes I wonder if we have the same problem as that early church, in following a leader, or an idea, or our own sense of how to be acceptable to God. Perhaps they shared a problem common today—of people who “profess” Christ but whose behavior reveals they serve other gods, like pleasure, retribution, entitlement, and convenience. Such are the broken-down attributes of the “self-life.” Jesus expressed a similar idea when He talked about the foolish building on sand, and the wise building on rocks. The rock, of course, was the rock-solid word of God through Jesus Himself (Matthew 7:27). The “house” of the other guy may have looked okay from afar, but it was as vulnerable as a shanty when life’s tsunamis came at it.

The apostle Paul took the idea of “firm foundations” deeper when he associated the life choice of following Christ with the lifestyle of generosity. He reminded his protégé Timothy to commend believers to be “rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share. In this way they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age, so that they may take hold of the life that is truly life” (1 Timothy 6:19).

We all witnessed that spirit of generosity as the coronavirus pandemic changed and challenged lifestyles. I had some raised-eyebrow-moments when the media featured wealthy stars and business icons and the frustrations they had in staying home…in their multi-million residences. And then there were ordinary people who respected the “distancing” advice or, because of their occupation in health, safety or food services, had to mask- and glove-up to help those in need.

Such times reveal whether there’s spiritual “re-bar” for daily strength, courage, and grace.

SOFT (Psalm 95)

A sheep (this one a puzzle piece--thank you, grandsons)

and a strong rock--two major symbols for Psalm 95

(An ongoing series on the 48 psalms recommended for reading during times of “feeling down,” as suggested in pastor-counselor David Seamands’ book, Healing for Damaged Emotions)

The soft strains of a 1980 worship song birthed in southern California always come to mind when I read Psalm 95:

Come, let us worship and bow down,

Let us kneel before the Lord our God our Maker,

For He is our God, and we are the people of his pasture,

And the sheep of His hand (2x)

For a couple years, I lived and worked within a few miles of that song’s origins in the Maranatha! music ministry produced from Calvary Chapel, which greatly ministered to the hippie culture of that era.  I wonder how many people realized it was lifted right out of Psalm 95:6-7, or that this psalm has a strong message for hard hearts

So, how can warnings about “hardness” bring any comfort to times we feel down? I think the answer is in looking at place-names attached to an incident from the Exodus 17, when the newly-freed Israelites found themselves facing death because there was no water in the desert. They were blaming God, not worshipping Him.Then God told Moses to strike a certain rock, and out came a huge flow for all. From then on, the location was called “Massah” (meaning “testing”) and “Meribah” (meaning quarreling) because “they tested the LORD saying, ‘Is the Lord among us or not?’” (Exodus 17:7).

DÉJÀ VU ALL OVER AGAIN

Baseball great Yogi Berra was known for his odd sayings, including the redundant “it’s deja vu all over again.” With spiritual maturity comes the ability to see ourselves in the mistakes of the past, such as the grumbling over lack of water. Thanks to living in a country where tap water is chlorinated and tested, I don’t face what the Israelites did with thirst and deprivation. But our culture sends griping and complaining into new areas. That can lead to a high sense of entitlement—what we think God should supply—without simply grateful for what we already have. Constantly I have to ask myself if I can say, with Paul:

I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. (Philippians 4:12)

JUST PRAISE

During that same time that I lived in southern California, I was part of a Fullerton, Calif., church choir that sang a worship concert with the Gaither song, “Let’s Just Praise the Lord.” I still find myself humming that tune and thinking of the words, realizing how praise helps lift me when I am feeling down. When I feel “hard” and besieged, focusing on God’s mercies and greatness help to “soften” my heart. And that is the lesson that opens this psalm with its exhortation to praise God:

Come let us sing for joy to the LORD,

Let us shout aloud  to the Rock of our salvation.

Let us come before him with thanksgiving 

And extol him with music and song. (vv. 1-2)

The psalmist goes on to consider God as Creator of the world (vv. 3-5), then creator of us, humans, by allegory “people of his pasture, the flock under his care” (v. 7). Can you not help but stop here and think of Jesus as the Great Shepherd? Psalm 95 teaches that there are many ways to praise God: sing, shout aloud, extol with music, bow down, kneel... Even silence can be worship: “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).

“Count your blessings,” begins an old hymn, “name them one by one.” When I feel down and a bit hard-hearted, it’s the best spiritual medicine I can take.

ENOUGH (Psalm 23)

"My cup overflows....."

The Lord is my Shepherd.  I have everything I need. –Psalm 23:1 (New Living Translation)

As much as I love the King James translation of Psalm 23:1 (“I shall not want”), I am especially drawn to this version. “Everything I need.”  In my heart, it pairs so well with the apostle Paul’s declaration of contentment: “And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.” He wrote this as part of his thank you to the church at Philippi for a monetary gift for his basic living expenses.  Remember, he was a missionary, living on the erratic First Century version of “support.”  At times he had to go back to work stitching tents in a local business.

Years ago I also read W. Phillip Keller’s A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23, and was enlightened further about sheep when I visited a friend during her lambing season. She talked about fractured nights helping ewes in difficult deliveries and keeping the bad-tempered ram in another pen. Other things she shared from her experience with sheep reminded me of how David’s patience was tried in his early occupation as a shepherd.  And yet, his most beautiful picture of God comes from just that.

Being “down” or depressed is like putting on eyeglasses with a bad prescription.  You don’t see clearly and stumble in confusion. Psalm 23 bids us rest and just look to the shepherd, who takes care of our needs.  Not our wants, necessarily, but our needs.

 I’ve been around people who have a pretty long “entitlement” list that they think God should supply. Yet they do not walk in the “paths of righteousness” that God has shown them.  They stumble off the path into the brambles of bitterness and anger. While they’re thrashing in the thorns, the Shepherd is nearby with His crooked staff, waiting to pull them out.

Contentment eludes them because they stray from the shepherd. Pastor and author F.B. Meyer said it so well:

This is the blessed life—not anxious to see far in front, nor eager to choose the path, but quietly following behind the Shepherd, one step at a time.  The Shepherd was always out in front of the sheep.  He was down in front.  Any attack upon them had to take him into account.  Now God is down in front.  He is in the tomorrows.  It is tomorrow that fills us with dread.  God is there already.  All the tomorrows of our life has to pass before him before they can get to us.”*

*F.B. Meyer (1847-1929), a contemporary of D.L. Moody, was a pastor and author who focused on inner city work on both sides of the Atlantic. Quote accessible at AZquotes.com/author/19129/F.B.Meyer

Spoon squabble

"How come Zion has two spoons?”  my four-year-old grandson Josiah complained one recent lunch

about his  2 1/2-year-old brother’s “place setting.” When they eat at Nana’s house, they have “assigned” child sets. Josiah’s is a sectioned toddler plate that looks like a barn and has “fat-handle,” child-friendly knife/fork/spoon. Zion is using a family “heirloom” set from his dad’s babyhood,  a “Peter Rabbit” plate with Peter Rabbit child-size spoon and fork. Plus—and this is where the problem came in—I got him a toddler bent-handle spoon.  Still ambidextrous, he finds eating applesauce a challenge with either hand.  The bent spoon helps.  Thus, “spoon number 2.” 

The so-called “inequity” in place settings had never been brought up—until that day.

Deciding to solve the problem himself, Josiah took Zion’s Peter Rabbit spoon and put it by his plate. I reprimanded him and put it back by Zion’s plate. Josiah grabbed it again.  We had war on our hands.
Just then—I am telling the truth—I recalled another “sibling rivalry” that merited a discussion in the New Testament. 

The setting was the Sea of Galilee, after Jesus’ resurrection. Any appearance after His death and resurrection was awesome anyway, and this morning Jesus showed up on shore and performed a miracle for the up-until-then empty-netted fisherman, Peter and John among them. By the time they dragged the bulging net to shore, Jesus had built a fire to cook some for breakfast.  (I like this detail. Jesus knew practical skills like starting a fire without matches!)

After breakfast, Jesus had a penetrating conversation with Peter about how much Peter loved Him. After all, before Jesus’ crucifixion, Peter denied Him three times. Then Jesus predicted Peter’s death scenario: “When you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go” (John 21:18). He wasn’t suggesting Peter would fade away in a nursing home, but that he’d have a difficult, helpless death that would glorify God.  Tradition says that Peter died of crucifixion, upside-down, the opposite of Christ’s death.

After that stunning revelation, Peter pointed at John. “Lord, what about him?”  In other words, if I have to die in misery, shouldn’t John, too? Jesus replied, “If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you?  You must follow me”(21:22).

Historians say John died in extreme old age on a prison island.  But the lesson of this passage isn’t who-dies-how, but that living according to Jesus’ plan has no place for entitlement.  We can’t demand that Jesus give us a certain life that’s full of the things we want.  Health, education, employment, nice housing, a nice car, marriage, family, or even public recognition are not “givens” of the Christian life. Demanding them from God is the sin of coveting. We’re simply to trust and obey. Do our best with what God has given us. 

The rest of the spoon story? We’re back to “normal.” And Zion still makes a mess of eating applesauce, even with the bent spoon.  Someday….

How much is enough?

"Modern apartments" proclaims a classic old building in a nearby town--though I wonder if by today's standards they are "modern." Okay, they do have "modern" satellite dishes! My town has a similar “transformed” hotel, once our town’s grandest, multi-storied and classy. Now the aging building is bare-necessities apartments for low-income seniors or the disabled. For many, that’s “home”—and even “home enough.” 

As I considered this area’s rental housing market, I recalled what I called "home" after leaving the family home where I grew up. I lived in basements, doubtful neighborhoods, and with many different roommates.  Many places had no washer or dryer, so I took weekly trips to the public laundry, where I read books and wrote letters as the machines chugged. It certainly beat having to swish my laundry in the creek and hang things on bushes to dry! (Okay, I never did that.) One blessing of that time was an invitation from a godly senior in my church (I worked with her son at the daily newspaper) to do my weekly two loads at her home Friday nights while we shared combined leftovers for dinner. I insisted on leaving her my "laundry change" to help with expenses. But it was a pittance for the riches she poured into my life as she prayed with me (and for me), shared her own spiritual growing places, and nudged me toward a deeper walk with God.

 A few years later, a major life change landed me more than a thousand miles away in Los Angeles, where I was a "missionary" at a major mission headquarters. With my "support" income of half or less of my former wage as a newspaper reporter, housing became a challenge. I first rented a room in a private home, then house-sat for an older lady, and finally got into a tiny apartment in an old building, where I “worked off” part of my rent with yard work and maintenance.

The apartments had just the bare necessities: no modern amenities like a dishwasher or microwave. One noisy old coin-op washer and dryer served the entire five-unit apartment building. But it was a place where I could practice hospitality and reach out to people in need who lived in the adjacent units.

At that time, Isaiah 54:2 became especially meaningful to me:

Enlarge the place of your tent;

Stretch out the curtains of your dwellings, spare not;

Lengthen your cords,

And strengthen your pegs.

Written to a culture that used tents for housing, this section predicted that when the exiled nation finally returned to its homeland, it would grow and prosper. The “message” I got for my circumstances was to refuse to isolate myself and shrivel up socially because of less-than-"perfect" housing. Instead, I was to accept my “location” as an opportunity to “stretch out” and be a difference-maker among the people who were then part of my life.

Today, when I look back over photos from the nearly two years I lived there, I don’t think much about what the units “lacked,” but of friendships forged. I befriended an immigrant couple (and with my fractured Spanish helped the wife buy a used sewing machine), encouraged an older widowed neighbor with health issues (oh, how her faith blessed me!), and helped another neighbor get emergency mental health treatment. I also took in two women in desperate situations for a few weeks, one of us sleeping on an old couch.

My “tent” wasn’t very big, but it was big enough for God’s purposes. He knew what I needed, and I tried to be a good steward of His gift of housing at that season of my life.

One more thought: "Home" for the last 35 years has been a small "starter" home where every square foot counts. Yet it, or any of the no-frills apartment where I once lived, would still be a palace to the thousands upon thousands facing starvation in Africa's historic famine. Or, for that matter, for most of the world.