FROZEN ASSETS

'Twas a few frozen days before Christmas, and the local birds were desperate for a meal. Some apparently recalled that I toss treats into my empty bird bath. But it had rained, then temperatures dipped to freezing. The “bird bath” was now a huge frozen ice saucer with tidbits locked inside. The birds landed and flew away in disgust.

Fear not—I lifted out the “ice saucer” and replenished its treats. As the edible tidbits soon disappeared, I thought of how I have found wonderful “tidbits” to strengthen me. Not physically, but spiritually. They're Bible verses of comfort and instruction, providing insight and hope for spiritual growth and difficult times. Maybe some (memorized long ago) are “yours,” too.

When feeling weak and disappointed, to remember that when we are “weak,” He is strong. “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

When things are scary and out of control, He never leaves: “Fear thou not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. I will help you.” (Isaiah 41:10)

When things you hoped for and dreamed about, don't happen, He feels our disappointment but has a going-forward plan: “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. (Psalm 34:18)

When we feel like giving up, or are making poor alternative “choices,” or when life turns sour, God doesn't “move on” to the next “counseling client.” He stays by us: “We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28).

This past year or so, a friend with life challenges similar to mine has started sharing –also on 3x5 cards--the “aha!” verses she is coming across in her spiritual life-journey. Every week or so, I'll find in the mail an envelope with her latest “great reminder” verse—one that often is extra-meaningful to me as well.

As these verses collect, I rubber-band them and keep them by my living room rocker (where I usually have my Bible-and-prayer time) for memory review. Unlike my local birds, I don't have to teeter on the edge of a birdbath and dip for a few soggy morsels of nourishment. From paper they go to mind, to heart—just where they belong.

"DO NOT CALL?"

I did the grumpy and responsible thing: opted in to the “Do Not Call” (DNC) registry to try to slow down the flood of unwanted solicitor phone calls. But still they came, like a mud slide that keeps oozing down into the abyss of frustration. (Picturesque analogy, right?)
    So, is it worth it? The website explaining the “DNC” rule admits it has “limited effectiveness," as the registry says it mostly targets "legitimate telemarketers" but “may not prevent calls from scammers or robo calls.” Plus, after registering, calls can still come from charities, political groups, surveys, and debt collectors. And, I'd add, mean people who spoof emergency situations.
    I'm glad that God is “on call,” “receiving prayer calls,” and knowing the real thing from the spoofs. Also, that Heaven's phone system (Paradise Phone Co.?) isn't bound by rules and regulations except for those reflecting His love, His presence, and His kindness. I “hear” that between the lines in a Bible verse many have memorized:
“Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know” (Jeremiah 33:3)
    Like any Bible verse, this one can have its meaning twisted and wrongly used. Historically, it came to Jeremiah while he was imprisoned by a king who didn't like the prophet's negativity. It was God's word of encouragement to a prophet who gave everything he had back to God in obedience, only to end up as a despised prisoner. This message wasn't a current “status report,” but a prophecy of a future nation of joy, peace and abundance, with the gracious, loving rule of a Messiah.
    Bear in mind how fantastic and unbelievable this prophecy must have been back in Jeremiah's time. His 40-year ministry included the fall of Jerusalem in 586 BC. How badly the people of his time needed a dose of hope!
    The “calls” that Jeremiah and his contemporaries heard from other lands were threatening. Abusive calls. Worse than the “wanna-get-your-valuable-cardit-card-ID” calls that our culture's “junk callers” thrive on. Although it may not happen in my lifetime (though it could), the spam call “system” with its threatening and dubious intentions--along with all the allure and wrongness of fallen culture in general--will someday end with Christ's return. Let's call that 1-800-TOP-HOPE.

REMEMBERING....

Okay, so I'm a Mom Photoholic. The short hall between bedrooms and living room in my home is a portrait gallery, with family photos nearly all the years since our 1981 marriage. Yep, wedding photo, then with a newborn and then a second baby, all the way through their graduations, weddings and grandchildren. Some were taken by local photographers (like ones who long-ago worked out of corners of Wal-Mart, Penney's, and Sears!). Others came off personal cameras. My “recliner-rocker,” diagonally across the living room, has a full view of the “gallery.” Just about every day, from my recliner viewpoint, I look across and silently pray, “Thank you, Lord, for your faithfulness of 'family.'”

The last “family photo” was taken three months before my husband died. But that doesn't mean more “family chapters” aren't being written. Recently in reading Psalm 143, I paused at this verse:

I remember the days of long ago; I meditate on all your works and consider what your hands have done. (Psalm 143:5)

What's not being captured on a camera is still being captured in my heart.

In reading psalms, I'm mindful of the beginning attributions of many chapters. Psalm 143 doesn't have one but it speaks plaintively in verse 3 of being pursued by an enemy and having to “dwell in darkness” (likely meaning a cave). Obviously, David's referring to being pursued by murder-focused King Saul. But that verse is followed up by one beginning “I remember,” quoted above.

Despite his dire circumstances, David wasn't stuck in memories of “life the way it used to be.” He admitted feeling glum and weary of his negative circumstances:

Answer me quickly, O Lord, my spirit faints with longing. Do not hide your face from me or I will be like those who go down to the pit. (v. 7)

BUT....he quickly switches to hope:

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.” (v. 8)

The contrasts of hopelessness and hope, of dark and light, endear this psalm to me. I haven't had to literally hide in a cave from an enemy. (The closest I got to a “cave” were two “basement bedroom” living situations when I was still single!) But I've endured difficult life chapters with challenging people. At such times I understood and claimed David's closing verse in that psalm:

For your name's sake; O LORD, preserve my life; in your righteousness, bring me out of trouble. In your unfailing love, silence my enemies...for I am your servant (v. 12).

David may have had to dwell temporarily in caves, but he was no gruff  “caveman of old.” His outlook was “up”--to a heavenly Father—who knew exactly what was going on and had great plans for David. In time, He would answer as David prayed:

Teach me to do your will, for you are my God; may your good Spirit lead me on level ground. (v. 10)

Maybe that's a good description of my “family portrait wall” Year by year, the children grew older (as did their parents). We had good years, and bad years (like the year we were nearly killed by a drunk driver). But the photos continue to remind me: He has never forsaken me. And my heart is stirred to praise.

PRIORITIES

It's late August, and we're going through our annual late-summer “heat waves” with 100-degree temperatures. I'm grateful for today's “air conditioners,” recalling my younger years in stuffy, low-budget rental apartments without “A/C.” Instead, a noisy box fan helped move air so I didn't sizzle like bacon on a hot pan.

Our current blistering-hot days find me thinking of a psalm in which a deer's thirst becomes a spiritual analogy. You probably know the one, which starts:
As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God.My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God? (Ps.42:1-2)

This bold, young deer visited the back yard
in late winter, obviously hungry (those
are rose bushes behind him--ouch!)

If you can remember back to the 1970s to the emergence of contemporary Bible choruses (many out of the Southern California “Maranatha!” ministries), you're probably humming that chorus. It's been running through my mind, too, as I go about my tasks. I recall how this psalm reflected a challenging time in David's life. His comfort and prestige were stripped away, and he was enduring the hard, hot life of hiding in the desert from insane, murder-intending King Saul. Food and water were precious and rare. Yet David found his hope and practical supply in God: The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and I am helped. (Psalm 28:7)

I suspect that Psalm 42, with its downcast tone (like verse 3: “My tears have been my food day and night”) isn't apt to inspire upbeat “life verses.” The ticking away of days and years has its hard spots, and it's easy to think sadly about past “Glory Years.” Maybe we had more friends. Respect from others. A secure job we enjoyed. Health. A place to live which brought us comfort and happiness. A satisfying purpose for living. Or maybe a measure of fame.

Certainly “fame” was anticipated for Scotsman Eric Liddell, whose amazing athletic achievements were portrayed in the 1981 film “Chariots of Fire.” He was predicted to win the 100-meter race in the 1924 Olympics. But Liddell, a devout Christian who aspired to be a missionary, withdrew when he learned the race's heats would be held on a Sunday. Instead, he switched to the more grueling 400-meter race during the week.

In the movie script, Liddell was handed a note just before the race. Reportedly from his team's masseur, it read: “In the old book it says, he that honors me I will honor. Wishing you the best success always. 1 Samuel 2:30.” Despite the extra strain for him to attempt a race four times his “trained” length, Liddell won with an Olympic record of 47.8 seconds. It would stand until the 1936 Berlin Olympics.

From sports fame he moved on to mission work in China, dying there of an undiagnosed brain tumor in his 43^rd year. But his dedication to Christ's cause made a difference. Of course, he was asked “post-Olympics” if he regretted leaving behind his Olympic fame for mission service. He replied: “It's natural for a chap to think over all that sometimes, but I'm glad I'm at the work I'm engaged in now. A fellow's life counts for far more at this than the other.”

Powerful words about priorities! The Lord was Liddell's strength and shield. And even decades after his death, Liddell's passion for Christ still inspires.
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Enjoy these links connected to Liddell's story. This one presents the “deer” song: Bing Videos
Then, here is the movie reenactment of Liddell's Olympic race (skip the preceding ads): Bing Videos

GRIPPED

I'm guessing that—if you are human and breathe—you've had times you felt a vise twisting you tighter and tighter. That pressure may have come from job problems, people conflicts, health issues, or unexpected negative events that left you feeling “pressed in” with little hope of relief. At such times in my life, Psalm 34 is among scriptures that helped me quit looking around at my circumstances, and instead up to God:

This poor man called and the Lord heard him; he saved him out of all his troubles. (Psalm 34:6)

The next verse was always a reminder that God's help isn't always visible:

The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and he delivers them.

Further on in this psalm, we're told:

*God sees: “The eyes of the LORD are on the righteous” (v. 15)

*God hears: “And His ears are attentive to their cry” (v.15b); “The righteous cry out and the Lord hears them” (v. 17).

*God advocates: “The face of the Lord is against those who do evil” (v. 16)

*God takes appropriate action: He delivers them (v. 17), comes close (v. 18) and “saves those who are crushed in spirit” (v. 18).

 This is a psalm with a “prelude” that explains the writer's desperation. First Samuel 21 tells how David fled his crazed “king-employer,” King Saul, ending up in the last place Saul would want to go: Gath. That prominent city of the enemy Philistines had produced the giant hero, Goliath, whom David had slain. Wisely, David didn't stay long, and fled to the wilderness. No wonder he felt alone, vulnerable, and desperate.

 In the grip of desperation and fear,  David looked to the only real hope: the power of God. And—to borrow the title of a book by Max Lucado—the grip of God's grace.

My life story included times when I felt squeezed tighter and tighter by life's challenges. It would have been easy to despair and think (wrongly) that God was busy elsewhere helping somebody who had greater needs. But when desperation pushed me to earnest prayer, a quiet voice to my spirit reminded me that no matter the pressure, no matter the pain, God would never leave.

This poor man  called and the LORD heard him ...Blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him. (Psalm 34:6a, 8b).

I could go on and on, quoting verse after verse of this precious psalm. If you opened my Bible to the page with this psalm, you would see circles, lines connecting words and verses, red-pencil highlights, notes in the margin. They attest to the many times I've found myself there, seeking God's comfort and assurance, encouraged that God's “Ad-vice” is able to take care of any life-“vise.”

LOVE THAT WON'T LET GO

The hymn's lyrics speak of tracing a
rainbow through the rain: just imagine it...

The history of hymn writers includes three who were blind: John Milton, blind at age 44; Fanny Crosby, blind since infancy, and George Matheson, whose vision rapidly failed as a teenager. Yet all possessed keen spiritual insight: Milton, author of the epic poem Paradise Lost; Crosby, author of thousands of hymn lyrics; and Matheson, esteemed Scottish preacher and author of the hymn lyrics for “O Love That Will Not Let Me Go.”

Born in 1842, Matheson's vision started to go in his teens, and he was totally blind by 18. Yet at 19 he graduated from the University of Glasgow. To enable him to finish his theology studies, his sister learned Hebrew, Latin and Greek. He finished seminary with high honors and was later assigned a parish at Innellan, a seaside resort in western Scotland. His faithful sister continued behind the scenes, helping him with sermon-study and other pastoral duties.

But his blindness also brought heartache. There are stories—not authenticated—that a young woman he hoped to marry broke their engagement when she realized he was going blind. Probably that hurt resurfaced years later, when he was forty, and his sister and faithful helper was married. On the day of her wedding, he wrote the hymn “O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go.” This is what he wrote later about its inspiration:

My hymn was composed in the manse of Innellan on the evening of the 6^th of June, 1882. I was at that time alone. It was the day of my sister's marriage, and the rest of the family were staying overnight in Glasgow. Something happened to me, which was known only to myself, and which caused me the most severe mental suffering. The hymn was the fruit of that suffering. It was the quickest bit of work I ever did in my life. I had the impression rather of having it dictated to me by some inward voice than of working it out myself. I am quite sure that the whole work was completed in five minutes, and equally sure it never received at my hands any retouching or correction. I have no natural gift of rhythm. All the other verses I have ever written are manufactured articles; this came like a dayspring from on high. I have never been able to gain once more the same fervor in verse.

Some phrases that suggest his earlier heartache, of blindness ending marriage hopes, includes “flickering torch,” “borrowed ray,” and the tracing of the “rainbow through the rain.” But he cast a vision of higher purpose to his pain, looking forward to eternity. With the risen Son of Righteousness, there will be no more darkness: “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain” (Revelation 21:4). The more important words in Matheson's lyrics are love, light, joy, and cross.

The hymn was published a half year later in the Church of Scotland's monthly magazine. The tune was composed a year later by a prominent organist. He, too, sensed divine inspiration in composing the music. He wrote: “After reading it over carefully I wrote the music straight off and I may say that the ink of the first note was hardly dry when I had finished the tune.” It was first published in the 1885 Scottish hymnal.

Matheson—a big man whom some likened to America's General U.S. Grant-- would become the pastor of the 2,000-member St. Bernard Parish Church in Edinburgh and known as one of Scotland's most eloquent preachers. He even was invited to Balmoral to preach before Queen Victoria. Later in life he wrote some of the finest devotional literature in the English language as well as some other hymns. He died in 1906, in his 64^th year.

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Hear the late Danny Gaither--brother to widely-known Gospel musician Bill Gaither--sing this hymn about forty years ago:

O Love That Will Not Let Me Go Danny Gaither - Bing video

ARCHED HOPE

“It’s just splendid!” I told my husband as I craned my neck to see the rainbow that appeared as we were driving home. “Brilliant colors, and a second one is trying to emerge!”

He was a bit disappointed because, as the driver, he couldn’t turn around and see what I was seeing. Finally, he was able to turn off to a side street and pull over long enough for me to snap a photo of the quickly disappearing rainbow.  He accommodates my crazy “photo op” moments.

I wonder how Noah felt as he emerged from the ark--dirty, tired, wondering just how they’d start over in a world that was probably little more than a landscape of mud.  Imagining this, artists have some vegetation growing through the muck of a worldwide flood—enough, of course, that the “scout” dove came back when some greenery in his beak. As the once-swollen black clouds, relieved of their water burden, dissipated, Noah caught sight of the first rainbow. The God-sign of regeneration, it must have been stunning in its brilliant blending of the spectrum’s colors.  I cannot imagine it. Here was hope in an arched palette, and every time it re-appeared, a reminder of the Creator who went way beyond a black and white world.

One passage that always reminds me to hang in there with life’s difficulties is Romans 15:4:

For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through endurance and the encouragement of the scriptures we might have hope.

Noah didn’t have the scriptures, just stories passed down through generations that Moses would later put into written form.  But still, he believed...and obeyed. 

Sometimes I yearn for Noah’s grit in starting over in regard to seemingly impossible things I pray about. Some people I care about (and pray for) are stuck in the false belief that their miserable lives will continue to be miserable. If only they’d get out of the dark, manure-thick pens of the old life in the ark, and have courage to step on the gangplank to a new life with Jesus! If only they’d look up—and see the rainbow!  

An old poem I quoted recently says, “God has not promised skies always blue.” But every so often He hangs a sky-wide reminder that out of the storms, something splendid can emerge. So, yes, I get excited about a rainbow.  It's fleeting, just a few minutes while the sun and drizzle are just right to refract the sun’s rays. But it’s reminder enough to hold onto hope.

MORNING'S HOPE (Psalm 143)

Landscape near my "high-desert" hometown. David probably looked

out on similar desolation (without the telephone poles!)

(Part of an ongoing series of psalms to study when you're feeling "down," as suggested by pastor/counselor David Seamands in his book, "Healing for Damaged Emotions.")

“Joy comes in the morning…” The hope expressed in that song took on a personal meaning when my friend Dan Miller was privileged to sing it for a Bill Gaither music video. Dan’s not your run-of-the-mill Gospel singer. The summer after he graduated from high school, he was one of the last victims of the polio epidemic of the 1950s. The vaccines hadn’t yet made it to small towns clutching the Columbia River in north central Washington. His athletic body was decimated by the virus. His right arm was left virtually useless, his left, less impaired, and his once strong legs a whisper of their former selves. But Dan went on to fulfill his dream of becoming a physical education teacher (with lots of adjustments), later a school principal, then an inspirational speaker. He loved to play a guitar in his unique “adjusted” way and sing about hope after the darkest night: “Joy comes in the morning.”

MORNING BLESSING

I think of Dan when I read Psalm 143, especially verse 8, which I memorized through the NavPress “Topical Memory System” early in my Christian walk:
Cause me to hear thy lovingkindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust; cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee.(KJV)

In the version I now use (New International Version) it continues to remind me that the night is not forever:

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you.  Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.

When we look to the Lord for help, the nights of emotional and personal darkness are not forever. Like the first rays of the sunrise, God has a way of giving us hints that hope is on its way. That, I think, is the enduring message of Psalm 143.

Like the previous psalm, also by David, it has a heavy and sorrowful tone. David is on the verge of giving up as the enemy continues to hunt and taunt him. “My spirit grows faint within me,” he says, “my heart within me is dismayed” (vv. 3-4). What keeps him from giving up altogether is remembering God’s help in the past:

I remember the days of long ago; I meditate on all your works and consider what your hands have done. (v. 5)

In a posture of worship and yielding, he holds out his hands. I understand that, as I have done that in my prayer life when I saw no answer and had to trust God with all my being.

Not surprisingly, this was a lesson David had learned before. In Psalm 30, he had exclaimed:

Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. (Psalm 30:5)

COMFORT V. CONFORMED 

It’s not just a matter of waiting a day or so for God to make things happen. God has His own, best timing for working out the problems we face. Sometimes the problem stares back at us in the mirror! He usually has things that need correcting inside us. That’s the other emphasis of Psalm 143, which is named as one of the seven “penitential” (confessional) psalms. (The others are 6, 32, 38, 51, 102, 130, and 143.)  But what may take weeks or months or years is all part of His perfect plan. His ultimate goal isn’t our comfort but being conformed to the image of Christ.  

In the midst of wishing he could be free of his enemies’ taunts and threats, David recognizes that his suffering has a higher purpose of building character:

Teach me to do your will, for you are my God; may your good Spirit lead me on level ground. (v. 10)

Joy will come in the morning—not necessarily the 24-hour cycle when the sun rises again, but when the Morning Star (Rev. 22:16), Jesus Christ, shines forth into our hearts. Left to our own devices, we’re like a wilderness of sagebrush. His character is built into us through the polishing and maturing knives of adversity. Though Psalm 143 begins with lugubrious notes of despair, it ends with sweetness: “I am your servant” (v. 12).

LOW, LOW, LOW (Psalm 142)

"God, can you hear me?" These satellite disks made me grateful that

prayer doesn't need such technology to access heaven!

(Part of an ongoing series on the 48 psalms commended for study during times of "feeling down," from pastor/counselor David Seamand's' book "Healing for Damaged Emotions.")

What do you say to God when you’re so spiritually and emotionally low that you don’t know what to say?  Welcome to Psalm 142, introduced by this note: “A maskil of David. When he was in the cave. A prayer.” A “maskil” is some sort of musical term. But the words “the cave” are an important clue. Psalm 57 (identified as a “miktam,” another music term) also says it’s for “when he [David] had fled form Saul into the cave.” That despairing time in David’s life is recorded in 1 Samuel 21-22. David had risen to be a hero in Saul’s royal court because of his military prowess and musical skills. But Saul had come to hate the man who’d succeed him instead of his own son Jonathan, and tried to kill David. In his escape, David ended up in an enemy town that wanted nothing to do with him. After all, he’d killed their hero giant, Goliath! On the run again, he ended up in a desert cave—homeless, hungry and friendless.  Was this how God treated His faithful followers?

GUT-WRENCHING PRAYING

As I read this psalm, I’m also hearing the despair of Psalms 42-43:

Why are you downcast, O my soul?

Why so disturbed within me? (42:5b, 11a; 43:5a)

Utterly alone in the wilderness, no doubt afraid to show his face outside, David faced hopelessness—and told God about it. Only imagination can describe his tone of voice—whether a hoarse whisper in the echoes of the cave, or bold shouts. But his despair spew in honest, hard words.

I cry aloud to the LORD, I lift up my voice to the LORD for mercy. I pour out my complaint before him; before him I tell my trouble. (vv. 1-2)

What’s the lesson here? That God can take it! We don’t have to crawl into Heaven’s throne room and say in a meek voice, “Any chance we could talk?” David complains from his tortured heart, “God, you know the mess I’m in. Evil men are out there, wanting to snare me. Everywhere I look, there’s no out. I’m cornered. Nobody cares about my life” (my paraphrase of vv. 3-5).

DARING TO HOPE

Maybe you’ve said something like this: “I’m in desperate need!” You’ve just quoted verse 6. Life couldn’t be any bleaker, and David wanted God to know it (as if He didn’t already). The soldiers Saul dispatched to find and kill David planned to thoroughly carry out their orders. “Rescue me from those who pursue me,” David cried, “for they are too strong for me” (v. 6b).

We may not be listening from a cave for the sounds of approaching hooves, but life can sometimes be “too strong” for us. A broken relationship, job loss, disaster, financial hardship, a loved one’s death, false accusation, wayward children—all of these and more can make us feel like David, ready to curl up in a cave and give up. But Psalm 142 isn’t just about despair. It’s about looking up to God when you’re down:

Set me free from my prison, that I may praise your name.

Then the righteous will gather about me because of your goodness to me. (v. 7)

David knew God was capable of turning things around. If God didn’t, then He had lied in having David anointed as the next king. But stuck in a blind alley, David knew his impossible “rescue” could do only one thing: bring glory to God.  That’s a big change from the “glory” that came to a lad who slew a giant, then grew to a strapping young man who outclassed all of Saul’s other warriors.

“Low, low, low” isn’t God’s “forever” plan for His own. We may have to go through those “dark caves of crying” at some time in this fallen world. But someday our Redeemer will come. The righteous will gather about HIM, and—like the end of this psalm says--praise Him because of His goodness to us.

WHOM...BUT YOU? (Psalm 73)

Ever feel as empty as an old crock?  This is the psalm for you!

(A continuing series on the 48 psalms listed as “recommended reading” for times of depression, from pastor/counselor David Seamands, author of Healing for Damaged Emotions.)

Some psalms are like good friends who just get better and closer, the longer you’re around them. That’s how I feel about Psalm 73. It’s attributed to “Asaph,” one of the worship leaders in David’s time. He’s also credited with Psalm 50 and most of the psalms (#73-83) in the third division of the book of Psalms. While thinking about the message of this psalm before writing about it, I felt led to read the entire book of Job because both wrestle with the age-old problem of why the righteous suffer.

LOOKING AROUND, DOUBTING GOD (1-14)

Depression deals with such questions as Asaph poses in comparing his life to that of the ungodly who seem to have health, riches, fame, and more:

Surely in vain have I kept my heart pure; in vain have I washed my hands in innocence. All day long I have been plagued; I have been punished every morning. (vv. 13-14)

In reading this, I think of Job, slumped in a dump in utter physical misery and personal devastation after his fall from riches and respect. The friends who dared to come around spilled their advice, but none of it reflected the mind of God.

LOOKING INWARD, ACKNOWLEDGING GOD (15-22)

I’ve been around people who know one song, “Woe is me, woe is me.” Sung in a minor chord, of course. Asaph’s song was set on that course until verse 17:

…I entered the sanctuary of God; then I understood their final destiny.

To borrow a cliché, the end of the book hasn’t been written yet, but God knows what will go there. People who don’t follow God live on slippery ground (v. 18) and will be swept away when eternity commences (v. 19). Here’s where Asaph changes his tune from “woe is me” to “I was wrong”:

When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered, I was senseless and ignorant; I was a brute beast before you.(v. 22)

That’s one way to describe “entitlement,” the selfish mental state that demands special treatment—whether it be social situations, education or jobs, housing, or other areas. Instead of thanking God for what one has, “entitlement” wants more and more, without the sweat equity that might be involved in bettering oneself.

LOOKING UPWARD, PRAISING GOD (23-28)

Oh, here are the verses that repeatedly have encouraged me, adjusting my heavenly focus:

Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory.Whom have I in heaven but you? And being with you, I desire nothing on earth. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. (vv.25-26)

You can be certain that they are underlined in red in my Bible! The phrase “take me into glory” gets more precious by the year. I almost went there 21 years ago when a drinking driver totaled our car as we returned home from a vacation—but we lived. And now, dealing with physical issues of aging, I know my time on earth is shortening. If my family wants to use these verses at my funeral, that would be fine!

In the meantime, this psalm reminds me that I can’t do “life” in my own strength. Lately I have felt worn down from criticism and bullying from someone. But every morning, as I get out of bed and put my achy legs on the floor to start the day, I remember my Creator and Savior:

Whom have I in heaven but God? He is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

As Asaph concluded, “But as for me, it is good to be near God. I have made the Sovereign LORD my refuge; I will tell of all your deeds” (v. 28).

HOLD ON TO THE 'YET' (Psalms 42-43)

This pier on the Columbia River symbolized for me

the emotions of being launched into unknowns

(An ongoing series on the 48 psalms listed as “recommended reading” for times of depression, as listed in counselor/pastor David Seamands’ book Healing for Damaged Emotions.)
Despair and hope thread through this duo of psalms, which scholars say should be read as one. Their link is the thrice-repeated refrain:

Why are you downcast, O my soul, Why so disturbed within me within me? Put your hope in God, For I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. (42:5, 11; 43:5)

The phrase “been there, done that” rings through my heart when I read these psalms. Bible teachers say the author (attributed to Korah’s sons, who served in the tabernacle) was apparently away from his work and home, possibly north toward Mt. Hermon. He admits to crying day and night (42:3), suggesting some real physical and spiritual lows—yes, depression.  He misses his temple work, which kept him in an attitude of worship and joy (v. 4). He’s been subjected to ridicule by people who mock, “Where is your God?” (42:3, 10). Such people are ungodly, deceitful, wicked, his enemy (43:1-2).

It’s hard to live for God when your assaulted by so many negatives. He chose a picturesque simile when he compared his feelings to a deer that’s panting with thirst (42:1).

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God? (42:2)

I know people who live in the past, in “glory years” when their skills brought approval and admiration.  But life isn’t static. There are deaths, moves, job and financial changes, family adjustments, or health crises--and if we can’t adjust to our new “normal,” we’re candidates for depression. We can’t expect to forever “meet God” in the old comfortable and maybe stale ways.

STUCK IN THE PAST

The writer opens his song pining for the “good old days”—when he led worship processions in Jerusalem. But he ends it with a vital truth: that God can be worshipped wherever we are, in new ways as He grows us spiritually. For the psalm-writer, the new place is finding God’s light and truth where God has placed the believer (43:3).

Circumstances change. People change. Churches change! Hopes are raised, hopes dashed. But the constant is God, who never changes but whose character would take more than a lifetime to discover and savor.

That’s why I latch on to the little word “yet” in these two psalms. I can rehash my troubles and questions, but at the end—in the “yet” of life—I need to come back to praising Him, claiming Him as my joy and delight (43:4).

It’s a verse worth writing out on a 3x5 card and putting where you’ll see it regularly, maybe next to your computer or the bathroom mirror:

Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.

OUT BUT NOT DOWN (Psalm 34:11-22)

(An ongoing series on the 48 psalms listed as “recommended reading” for times of depression, as listed in counselor/pastor David Seamands’ book Healing for Damaged Emotions.)

A reminder of abundant blessings....

Some churches have a “children’s sermon” time of about five minutes when the little ones gather around the pastor or an assistant for a simple Bible story or instruction. The second half of Psalm 34 seems to do that with its invitation, “Come, my children, and listen to me, and I will teach you to fear the Lord” (v. 11). Where the first part of this psalm is a testimony of trusting God in dire circumstances, the second half relates practical spiritual and relational skills. These, too, matter a lot when we’re trying to get through difficult and depressing times. Among the classes David was authorized to teach:

Tongue Control 101 (v. 13).  Avoid lies. Don’t do evil. Do good. Have a peaceable disposition.  Romans 12:18 aligns with this: “If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peacefully with all men.”  I’m grateful for that middle phrase—“as much as depends on you”—as I’ve encountered people so hardened by negativity and bitterness that kindness seems to bounce off them. But God sees my efforts, and understands when I have to tell Him, “They’re your problem now, God. I’ve done the best I can and it’s damaging to me emotionally to remain in contact with them.”

Graciousness 101 (vv. 14-16). Don’t answer “meanness” (ungracious, demeaning words and behavior) with the same. Peter’s letter says “amen” to that: “Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing” (1 Peter 3:9a).

Divine Dependence 101 (vv. 17-18). Ask God for help in trouble. Tell Him if you’re brokenhearted. Imagine: an instant audience with the Lord Most High! He knows already, but He’s ready to reach out to those with crushed spirits.  He has something better ahead.

Back to the verse highlighted in last week’s exploration of Psalm 34:1-10:

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Broken hearts litter the emotional landscape. There’s a breach in a relationship, and two people are hurt badly as they draw apart. The brokenness may come from abandonment, rejection, oppression, abuse, or even death. Dreams are shattered and there’s typically a physical reaction, like a heaviness that rightly is called “heartache.” Fear, loneliness, and despair arise along with reluctance to love or trust someone again.

But that’s not the end of the story. Jesus came, as Isaiah prophesied, to heal the broken- hearted (Isaiah 61:1-3, Luke 4:18). He showed us up-close the character of a God who wants us to know peace, and to give us a future and a hope (Jeremiah 29:11).

Such verses brought me hope in the late 1970s when the man I thought I’d marry decided to end our relationship. That’s when Psalm 34:18—about the Lord being close to the brokenhearted—became my healing hope.  I moved away. Each of us completed graduate degrees and settled in our careers. One sad year, I buried both my parents. As the years ticked by, I figured he had already married someone else. Then, one day eight years later, out of the blue, he called. I was now living two thousand miles away. Friends had given him my phone number. He'd never married. When he asked if he could write, I was astonished. The end of the story is that we got back together and married. And for our wedding verse, we chose this:

O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt His name together.

Did you guess? Yes, Psalm 34, verse 3.

GROAN--HOW MUCH LONGER? (Psalm13)

Part of a continuing series on 48 psalms that speak to “feeling down.”

Stuck in a thorny situation!  That’s the main complaint of Psalm 13, that David wrote during one of his many “feeling hopeless” times.  Four times he wails, “How long?” (my paraphrase):

*How long—forever?---will you forget about me, God?

*How long will it seem that You, God, have hidden Your face?

*How long must  I deal with negative and sad thoughts?

*How long will the enemy seem to have the upper hand?

What I like about this psalm is that David is talking to God  about his serious doubts. He’s not giving up his faith, although it’s a bit ragged right now. We don’t know his precise circumstances but he sounds like he’d come to the end of his rope, again, in staying a step ahead of King Saul and his murderous desperados.

The things that put me in a funk aren’t as life-threatening as David’s. But at different times in my life I have run into spiritual mountains I cannot scale, deep river gorges I cannot cross—except for God.

 But the big “BUT” is the word to hang on:

But I trust in your unfailing love; My heart rejoices in your salvation. 

I will sing to the LORD for he has been good to me.

David’s saying, “We have a history together, God.  You’ve helped me in the past. First of all, I thank you for the gift of salvation that allows me to be in relationship with You and trust You. Then I just need to praise You.  Where’s my harp? That’s how I express my ‘love language’ to God. I’ll sing a song that praises God’s goodness.  That may not solve my problems immediately, but it will keep my focus on God, who rescues and helps me.”

Thorns are part of life.  But even a cactus can put out a blossom, like a reminder of God’s help even when life seems sticky for much too long.

Making ‘Psense’ of Psalms—Psalms 42-43: Hope

Sunset on a stormy day--photographed at Moscow, Idaho--
an appropriate visual for spiritual hope in life's dark times

Part of a continuing series on Psalms.
 “Well, they have ‘down-in-the-dumps’ right,” I reflected after reading Psalms 42 and 43. At some time, I’d probably whined my own version of the psalms’ refrain: “Why art thou cast down, O my soul? And why art thou disquieted ["disturbed" in NIV] in me?” (42:5, 11; 43:5).  I was the guest of honor at my personal pity party. Then the refrain’s conclusion grabbed me with its remedy for being down-in-the-mouth: “Hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.”  The “cure” for those downcast, “poor me” times was turning attention from myself to the hope I have in the Lord. These psalms need to be read together. Indeed, in early Hebrew manuscripts (before the assignment of chapter-and-verse headings), they were linked. Attributed to the “sons of Korah” (temple musicians), there’s no historical subtitle. But the imagery and intense language transcend time as they speak to us today, particularly when we feel depressed.

THIRSTY

Psalm 42 opens with a picture of desperate thirst: “As the hart [deer] panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.” Unlike camels, whose fatty humps help them survive long periods in desert terrain, deer must have regular access to water. I live in “high desert” with miles and miles of rocky scrublands, bisected by a life-giving river. The highway along the river is a death trap for deer trying to get to water. Despite warning signs for drivers, deer still get hit. When I see a deer carcass while traveling, I’m reminded of Psalm 42 and its truth through this image that our true spiritual survival depends on sating our thirst for “the living God” (42:2). 

Spiritual opposition can heighten our thirst. The psalmist tells of non-believers who scoff, “Where is thy God?” (42:3). Deceitful and unjust people jeer the believer (43:1). The psalmist also pines over missing the festive worship at the temple in Jerusalem (42:4). Worship in those days involved processions, dancing and singing.    

LONESOME

Some scholars think the psalm’s author may have been far away, near Mount Hermon, about a hundred miles from Jerusalem as the crow flies. Though separated from the temple worship with all its festive trappings, he found there a new way to connect with God. He refers to Hermon and a lesser hill, Mizar, plus what might be the cascading headwaters that eventually drain to the Jordan (42:6, 7).  He also senses God’s power and plan in the cycle of day and night (42:8). What we today call “natural revelation” reminds him that he can worship God even  away from the temple. Even today, people find special spiritual encouragement by simply getting away to reflect on God’s creative power.

Thinking about God’s attributes encouraged the psalmist. Embedded in both Psalms 42 and 43 are numerous names for the works and character of God. He is “the living God” (42:2, a phrase found in another yearning-for-God psalm, number 84).  He is “my God” (42:6, 11: 43:4), with the pronoun “my” indicating a personal connection to this great God of all.  He is “the LORD” (v. 8), rendered in small capitals in English Bible translations to indicate the name that Jews considered so holy that they would not speak or write it.  We know it as YHWH or “Jehovah.” The psalmist also addresses God as “God of my life” (42:8), suggesting submission.  He is “God my rock” (42:9), a solid and reliable God, a term that shows up in nearly twenty other psalms. He is “God of my strength” (43:2), the source for “keeping on.”  He is “God my exceeding joy” (43:3), who will bring me out of that “downcast” condition. 

Even before studying this psalm, I had begun a practice of meditating on the names and attributes of God.  When problems kept me awake at night, I started going through the alphabet, recalling the names of God that gave me courage and encouragement.  I considered Him as the “Almighty One,” my Burden-bearer, my Compassionate Comforter—and on and on. By “Z,” peace and sleep would usually come. The practice reminded me that God, in the fullness of his deity, is far greater than any problem I might face.

FACE-BRIGHTENER

The last part of the psalms’ thrice-repeated refrain also reminded me of God’s care in difficult experiences: “Hope in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.” One more recent translation renders this “my Savior and my God” (NIV). The idea is that the God who lifts our saddened faces to show us His profound love is indeed the One who “saves” us from this despondency.

For me, the refrain’s key word is “hope.”  The apostle Paul reminded us “we rejoice in hope of the glory of God” (Romans 5:2). He emphasized that life’s tribulations can lead us, in God’s plan, to hope that never disappoints (“maketh not ashamed,” Romans 5:5 in KJV).

Psalms 42 and 43 are no longer the “despondency” psalms for me.  Yes, they describe someone who is downhearted.  But the psalms’ refrains don’t leave me stuck on “downcast.”  They remind me to hang on to hope. As John Stott remarked in Favorite Psalms (Baker, ’88, ’03, p. 50): “The cure for depression is neither to look in at our grief, nor back to our past, nor round at our problems, but away and up to the living God.”

Next week: Psalm 46.

The Salve Psalms

Autumn’s dropping leaves are reminders that life includes times of loss that can leave us bewildered. I know at times I identified with the psalmist who cried out, “Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me?” (42:5, 11; 43:5). Psalm 42’s spiritual metaphor of a deer desperate for water made sense for me, too: “My soul thirsts for God, for the living God” (42:2).  

I was drawn to these psalms when I experienced major life disruptions and turmoil with emotional and physical consequences. A man I loved rejected me. Several times I faced adjustments in moving far away from home. My parents’ months-apart deaths and resulting estate tasks overwhelmed me. Other times of despair came with a serious car wreck, care-giving ailing in-laws, and coping with the “empty nest.”

But recently, as I reflected on both psalms (which are linked in original Hebrew manuscripts), I found I’d missed how that despondent query ended with the salve of a hopeful “yet”: “Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.”        

The psalmist reveals several possible reasons for this downheartedness. One is spiritual opposition. Non-believers scoff, “Where is your God?” (42:3, also implied in 43:1-2). He misses familiar ways of worshipping with others (42:4). Scholars think he’s homesick—possibly displaced from Jerusalem to someplace near Mt. Hermon and the headwaters of the Jordan (42:6, 7). Yet even there he realizes that the place’s natural beauty (“deep calls to deep,” 42:7)) is nature’s music drawing him to the omnipresent God. I recalled how getting out to a place of beauty refreshed me when I felt down.

But the greater salve is embedded in the psalms’ names of God. He is “the living God” (42:2), true and able. He is the personal “my God” (42:5, 11: 43:4), He is powerful covenant God known as “the LORD” (v. 8). This name (rendered in small capitals in English Bible translations) is so holy to Jews that they will not speak or write it. We know it as YHWH or “Jehovah.” The psalmist also voices submission to “God of my life” (42:8). He prays to the solid, safe “God my rock” (42:9) and “God, my stronghold” (43:2). From his despair, he appeals to “God, my joy and my delight” (43:4). 

Even before studying this psalm, I had begun a practice of meditating on the names and attributes of God.  When problems kept me awake at night, I started going through the alphabet, recalling the names of God that gave me courage and encouragement.  I considered Him as the “Almighty One,” my Burden-bearer, my Compassionate Comforter—and on and on. By “Z,” peace and sleep would usually come. The practice reminded me that God, in the fullness of His deity, is far greater than any problem I might face.

The last part of the psalms’ thrice-repeated refrain also reminded me of God’s care in difficult experiences: “Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.” The King James version renders that last part, “the health of my countenance, and my God.” The idea is that the God who lifts our saddened faces to show us His profound love is indeed the One who wants to save us from this despondency. He may use medical professionals to aid us out to health.

For me, the refrain’s key word is “hope.”  The apostle Paul reminded us that “we rejoice in hope of the glory of God” (Romans 5:2). He emphasized that life’s tribulations can lead us, in God’s plan, to hope that never disappoints (5:5).

Psalms 42 and 43 are no longer the “despondency” psalms for me.  Yes, they describe someone who’s downhearted.  But the psalms’ refrains don’t leave me stuck on “downcast.”  They remind me that, in life’s spiritual autumns and winters, to hang on to hope. They assure me that it’s okay to thirst for God and seek a deeper relationship with Him. When I admit my need, He will lead me to His waters of spiritual refreshment. Thus renewed, I will again praise Him, my Savior and my God.

Where's the GBH?

“Shhh!” my husband whispered as we neared the swamp in our town’s riverfront trail system. “Look by the peninsula on the left.” I squinted to find the hump-shouldered outline of the huge gray bird amidst the dying foliage of autumn. Aware of our presence, it turned its S-shaped neck and waded out of view.I remembered previous times we came upon Great Blue Herons (GBH) in this swamp. One time, a pair startled us as they burst out of the cattails, whapping their six-foot-wide wingspans to lift four to eight pounds of body weight. They’re quite obvious aloft, but silent and nearly invisible as they troll the shallow waters for small fish to eat.

I thought of how we often fail to see God in the swamplands of life. When we end up in a place of disappointment or fear, we may feel He doesn’t notice us. That’s why one of the names of God, “El Roi,” meaning “The God Who Sees Me,” is especially poignant. We’re introduced to that aspect of His character through the Genesis 16 account of Hagar, Sarai’s maidservant. Pregnant with Abram’s child because of barren Sarai’s insistence on a surrogate, Hagar ran away when she couldn’t take Sarai’s jealousy and anger any more, collapsing by a little desert spring. Without hope, without direction, the desperate woman learned that Someone saw her troubles—God Himself. He told her to go back to Sarai and encouraged her with the revelation that the son in her womb would have a significant place in history. An ordinary water hole became a holy place. Thus she named it after her God-visit, Beer Lahai Roi, “Well of the Living One Who Sees Me.”

I find this story of great comfort. If God cares enough to intervene in a domestic dispute (albeit one with significant historical ramifications), surely He is aware of everything that goes on in my life. For many years, 2 Chronicles 16:9 has been a beacon of hope when I felt ignored and insignificant: “For the eyes of the LORD run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to shew himself strong in the behalf of them whose heart is perfect toward him” (KJV). It’s been a part of my memory bank so long that I can’t even recall the circumstances that put its truth into my life. But it’s there, a solid proclamation of God’s watch-care. Nothing can camouflage my actions or needs. He has seen it all, even before I was born and still in process in my mother’s womb (Psalm 139:15).

So where’s the GBH? Alone in his swampy disguise, known to God. And where am I in my deepest need, my most frustrating situation, or a place where God seems excluded? Right in the focus of God’s perfect telescope, its cross-hairs in the shape of a Cross.