BY THEIR FRUITS.....

I was rushing through a local mega-mart this spring when a little plant in a near-the-register display whimpered, “Take me home!” You've seen those random near-checkout display shelves. The ones with the same compelling power as those of candy and gum by the conveyor belt where a child is apt to tug on a parent sleeve and say, “Please, Mommy (or Daddy), please.” The bedding plant looked so forlorn, I almost didn't “listen,” but I did decide to adopt it, and re-homed the plant in the sunniest place in my yard, right next to the mailbox. I put the wire supportive “tomato cage” around the infant plant it as preemptive protection!

I didn't hold much hope for its survival, but that little tomato start hung in there and grew and grew...and now is expressing its gratitude with tiny red, joy-prompting globes. “Cherry tomatoes.” Maybe call them “cheery tomatoes,” too, because their vibrant red skin promises delight inside, and I am not disappointed when I add them to my meal.

With time, my pitiful clearance plant grew strong and fruitful. So it is in the Christian walk, with time as we take in the nourishment of Living Water (scripture) and bask in the Sun of Righteousness (the Lord Jesus). And maybe that's another way of looking at His parable about the fig tree (Luke 13:6-9). In the parable, a barren tree was due for the rubbish pile because it just didn't produce figs. The farmer decided to give it one more year to prove itself. The analogy is to complacent Christians who aren't going anywhere in their faith walk. The lesson of “one last chance” holds both hope and fear.

Tomatoes, of course, are “annuals” with just one chance to bloom and yield fruit. Then the cycle begins again with the tiny seeds in each fruit that can carry on the fruit line. Without reproducing believers, faith would not grow and spread.

Living in an agrarian society, Jesus wisely taught from common things the people knew in their quest to feed and house their families with the basic necessities. And though our times have taken food production to new and sophisticated levels (ever eaten a green house tomato?), the lessons of God's creation never fail to teach again, and again.

Maybe next time you grab a tomato to put in a salad or BLT, pause a moment. That red globe didn't pop out of the air. God had a plan for it to grow and reproduce. Sound (humanly) familiar?

JOY ON THE WAY

By the time this is published, the clumps of early-spring grape hyacinth by my front walk will be limp, their stalks shriveled to threads. But they'll be back again next year, shooting up as the weather whispers the coming of spring. Their resiliency amazes me, as some of the rock salt thrown on the icy walk next to them during winter surely contaminates their soil. But they still return, offering their brilliant purple “beads” as a springtime delight.

For whatever reason, while reading Colossians 2:7—a wonderful admonition and benediction—those little plants came to mind:

Just as you have received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in Him, rooted and built up in Him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness.

The analogy isn't perfect; grape hyacinth have a very short blooming cycle. But they're true to their nature, responding in God's amazing plant growth cycle to push from their dormant roots with delicate, lovely blooms.

If grape hyacinth could talk, I wonder if they'd complain a bit about their long dormant season. I'm reminded of David's woe-is-me Psalm 13 as he kept running and hiding from those who opposed him. Psalm 13 starts out with almost a whining tone:

How long, O LORD, will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have horror in my heart?

How long will my enemy triumph over me?

David is definitely down in the dumps. He's wondering if his foes might succeed in taking his life. But he ends on a note of hope against hope, of trusting the trustworthiness of God:

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. (vv. 5-6)

The Hebrew word translated “unfailing love” is chesed and used of God's steadfast, faithful love, such as seen in His covenant relationship with His people. It's a whole package of amazing qualities: loving-kindness, mercy, and loyalty that is unwavering in challenges of difficulties. In English, we just don't have an adequate synonym for God's awesome, immeasurable love.

Do we experience hardships in this life? Slumps? Discouragement? Harm and danger? Yes. Is God aware of them? Absolutely. Are we supposed to kick at them and blame God? No. It's better instead to stop, look and be in awe of how He works through our trials and hard places. He knows “how long,” and it will be just the right interval.

Possibly, on that hard-to-travel path, we'll find whispers of His goodness. Little blessings, Glimpses of joy. Like those delicate beaded hyacinth blooming by my home every spring. Reminding me that, after every winter, God will stir the earth and send them forth. True to His character as faithful—to me.

CHOOSING JOY

"Hearts unfold like flowers before thee," says verse 1.

Be encouraged above the negatives of the Covid-19 concerns with this uplifting hymn by a multi-talented man.  If you have a hymnal, look up “Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee” and then read Psalm 139:14: “Your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” Now, consider the “story behind the hymn."

If you were in charge of assembling a hymnal, which hymn would you put on the very first page?  A quick survey of random hymnals across denominational lines yielded these first-page choices: “O For a Thousand Tongues,” “Holy, holy, holy,” “Praise My Soul the King of Heaven,” “May Jesus Christ Be Praised,” “Old Hundreth,” and “O Worship the King.”  The editors of the hymnal my church used for decades (published 1989) chose one written by a Presbyterian minister in 1907.

His name was Henry Van Dyke, and he lived from 1852 to 1933 with many lines in his resume. They included:
*Appointment by his friend, President Woodrow Wilson, to ambassador of the Netherlands and Luxembourg.
*Lieutenant Commander in the US Navy Chaplains Corps during World War 1.
*Moderator of the general assembly of the Presbyterian Church
*Commander of the Legion of Honor
*President of the National Institute of Arts and Letters
*Chairman of the committee that compiled the Presbyterian Book of Common Worship
*Pastor of the Brick Presbyterian Church in New York City
*Professor of English literature at Princeton
*Author of several books, including best-selling devotionals
*A friend of many, including blind/deaf Helen Keller
*Officiated the funeral of Mark Twain
*Inspirational speaker—and in that role one day he was preaching at Williams College in Massachusetts. One morning he handed the college president some lyrics he had just written.  The meter, he said, matched the tune to the movement known as the “Hymn to Joy” in Beethoven’s Ninth symphony, the last by that composer which took him six years to compose. The lyrics were inspired, Van Dyke added, by the local view of the Berkshire Mountains.

He later said of this hymn: “ These verses are simple expressions of common Christian feelings and desires in this present time, hymns of today that may be sung together by people who know the thought of the age, and are not afraid that any truth of science will destroy their religion, or that any revolution on earth will overthrow the kingdom of heaven.  Therefore these are hymns of trust and hope.”

Dr. Van Dyke wrote 23 hymn texts, but this is probably the best-known. The diversity of achievements in his life point to how God is not limited in the ways He uses our skills.  It may be through a church, the arts, sciences, or government.  In the end, as the last verse says, we are the mortals joining the happy chorus in the triumph song of life—the one that praises the Lord Jesus Christ.

Ready to sing? These You-Tube sites may help:


Pipe organ with scenic backgrounds and hymn words

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ObqN9c9Jro0



Unaccompanied choir with scenic backgrounds and hymn words

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GisCqoTZiH0

MORNING JOY

I was surprised by the pink hue filtering through our home as I got up early one morning. I remembered that a significant storm was forecast and recalled the old adage, “Red skies in morning, sailors take warning.” Looking out the window, I was treated to a tangerine sunrise that left me in awe at God’s artistry through weather signs in the sky. The glory of it all reminded me not only of this "fresh start" adage I saw on a pillow in the décor section of a local craft store, but also of this nugget of hope in Lamentations 3:23:

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

There are also more than fifty references to “joy” in the Psalms. Among my favorite:
Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. (Psalm 30:5b)

Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days. (Psalm 90:14)

Then there is Nehemiah 8:10, a verse that a former co-worker used to  challenge me when I was in the doldrums of grief after my parents died.  Instead of a heartless “Get a hold of yourself,” she just quoted to me, “Remember, the joy of the Lord is your strength.” It was what I needed to quit looking down so much, and look up. 

Exodus 16:21 says the Israelites gathered manna—the mysterious bread of heaven—every morning. If they tried to gather more than one day’s portion, the extra rotted. Again, a lesson for taking things a day at a time, not gathering up worries and cares, but looking to the Lord, who gives us fresh starts...every morning.

FINDING JOY

Blind since infancy, living to her nineties, Fanny Crosby 

showed the power of praise in her thousands of hymn texts,

like this one

My first job (no surprise) came with its share of humbling and challenging experiences, plus a fresh appreciation for the practical wisdom in the epistle of James.  Like this: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything” (James 1:2-4).

Pure joy? Who was he kidding when I trudged home at night reeking of my colleagues’ second-hand smoke and nursing a headache from the press of deadlines and constant phone ringing?  This was newspaper work in the early 1970s—but I had a job! That was the joy. I remembered how I was hired—a series of “just happened” things.  Disheartened by “not hiring” answers to my job queries at local papers, faced with impending joblessness as my studies ended in mid-March, one day between classes I just happened to go down the hall of offices for journalism professors. One of my profs just happened to have his door open. He told me it just happened that a managing editor from a mid-size daily was interviewing that day for their summer college intern. The job wouldn’t start for three months, but it was something. 

I signed for an appointment, and showed up in business attire with my resume and writing samples. A few days later the editor called and offered the summer job. Plus, their women’s editor needed time off for surgery. Could I come early (like March 17!)  and fill in for her?  By mid-summer, my “intern” job became permanent.  Not only did I grow professionally but personally and, most important, spiritually, as I connected with a Bible-teaching church.

POUT OR PRAISE?

In my five years at that job, I began learning that God was ready to patiently teach me how to “do life.” One big lesson was to look for the little blessings. Despite all the pulpit-pounding admonition I hear in the book of James, there are “look-up” messages. “Is any one if you in trouble?” James asks, “He should pray. Is anyone happy? Let him sing songs of praise” (5:13).

Decades and several jobs later, I am still learning that. But it is a sweet lesson. And I am learning to pray-through-the-day, not just during the get-down-to-business “quiet time.” I wake up (praise!) and step in the tub for a quick shower (praise: Hot water! Towel! Clothes!). I fix and eat breakfast (praise: food, appliances). I plan my day (praise: I have the health to do something useful).  Things happen, and I find myself saying, “Thank you, Lord.”

William Stoddard, a pastor and teacher of a previous generation, observed in his devotional  First Light (Multnomah, 1990, p. 349): “Prayer is the time to be renewed in our love for God.  Think of all the gifts we have received.  Think of the days of sunshine and blessing.  Think of the cup that overflows with the joys of health and family and loving companions.  Think of the times that love warned us and, to our good, we heeded the warning. Think of the open doors we might never have entered without the gentle and persistent nudge of God’s love.”

Open doors!  Yes, even praise for an open faculty door in 1970 that led to my first full-time job and a writing career. 

LOST

Sad day, sad day. My oldest grandson, age 6, had lost his most-loved stuffed animal, Gilbert the cat. He and his parents had checked the obvious places, like under his bed, in the cars, the school and church lost-and-found, and the toy piles at his home and ours. Nothing. Such a sad countenance this six-year-old had as he searched the toy stash at our house—finding nothing.

Then one night he and his two younger siblings (2 and almost 5) came for care while their parents had a “date night reprieve.” It’s always a circus of both cooperative and competitive play. He’d gotten tired of the train toys so grabbed the little barn known for the “moo” when you open its doors. I heard the “moo” and then the shout, “Gilbert!” Apparently, the last trip here for care, he’d put Gilbert in the barn for safekeeping and forgot all about it. In his “hunt” at our house, he didn’t try the barn. And his Nana had no reason to play with the barn and find it!

I’ve had a few lost-and-found episodes myself, lately. I’ve learned to assign “hot spots” for important things, but this time my “hot spot” was cold. I did eventually find the item, but what a search.  Two biblical parallels came to mind.  One was Luke 15, which offers three “lost” parables right in a row. First, the lost sheep, which represented the shepherd’s livelihood. Second, the lost coin, which probably fell off a woman’s “money”-necklace, representing her life’s emergency fund. Third, the lost (prodigal) son, for the loss of relationship. All three speak to God’s love: He won’t let go, He constantly provides, and He waits when we go off and make bad choices.

The second Biblical tie-in I sensed was the book of Philippians. As a young adult, inspired by friends who were disciplined in Bible memorization, I decided to memorize the book I’d heard called “the epistle of joy.” In what had been some very difficult years of my young life, I was seeking deeper joy. So, verse sections at time, written on 3x5 cards, I trudged through the task. Today when I read Philippians, it is an old friend, its teachings about deep-down God-focused joy returning to mind.

This seems to be its essential truth: that joy derives both from a healthy relationship with God and with others. What a statement Paul made when he wrote, “I thank my God in all my remembrance of you.” I hope people say that of me! Sadly, though, we can’t say that of everyone we meet in life. Toxic and unhappy people make the journey hard. But I cling to the truths about “lost-ness” expressed in John 15: that our passionate, compassionate God keeps giving second chances and more. 

The “found-ness” of a well-loved (and needing-washed!) Gilbert-the-stuffed-cat reminded me of that.

THOSE THORNY QUESTIONS

Buds are emerging on our rose stems, but oh, the thorns!

Why is life at times so thorny? I’ve asked myself that many times in the past few years—and not just during my spring rose-pruning duties. Thorny problems and relationships are part of our sin-filled world. We usually complain about them. But I was recently reminded of the better perspective expressed by Dr. George Matheson (1842-1906), a renowned Scottish preacher who endured life blind:

My God, I have never thanked Thee for my thorn.  I have thanked thee a thousand times for my roses, but not once for my thorn.  I have been looking forward to a world where I shall get compensated for my cross, but I have never thought of my cross as itself a present glory.  Teach me the value of my thorn.

Of course, any reference to a “spiritual thorn” leads inevitably to Paul’s use of that term. At some time (perhaps when nearly stoned to death?) he had a vision of Heaven, too wonderful to express in earthly terms.

But to keep me from getting puffed up, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger from Satan to torment me and keep me from getting proud.  Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away.  Each time he said, “My gracious favor is all you need.  My power works best in your weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may work through me. Since I know it is all for Christ’s good, I am quite content with my weaknesses and with insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:7b-10 NLT)

What was the thorn?  Nobody knows.  Some ideas: malaria, epilepsy, an eye disease (inferred from Galatians 4:13-15). Whatever, it was chronic and debilitating, interfering with his ministry. Its presence kept Paul humble and dependent on God to just get through the day.  Somehow, seeing Paul’s strength in weakness inspired those around him who had their own version of a disabling “thorn.”

And these lessons still apply. We’re tempted to rely on our own cleverness or abilities to get by in life. But when we’re faced with our true selves, we have a choice: curl up and complain, or trust God for His will in His time.

I sense that lesson in Dr. Matheson. When he aspired to become a pastor—just as his sight was going—naysayers probably suggested it wouldn’t work out. But God provided a way through his devoted sister, who herself learned Greek, Latin and Hebrew to help him in his theological studies. Throughout his life she helped with his pastoral and calling duties.

Most hymnals still include “O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go,” whose lyrics came to him with such fluency and speed one night that he attributed it to “a dayspring from on high”—the Lord’s inspiration.  The key words of its four verses are “love,” “light,” “joy,” “cross.” All remind me of the Lord Jesus, the One who showed us God’s love.  Who called Himself the “Light of the World.”  And who, “for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:2 NIV).

All because of a Love that will not let us go.

He is risen! He is risen indeed!

GETTING PAST WINTER

Is winter ending? Is spring here? We kept asking ourselves those questions in February as the weather kept teasing us with mild days and snowstorms. Late in February, a friend brought a handful of pussy willows from her yard. It wasn’t lost on me that this harbinger of spring came by the hand of someone who has endured a recent siege of “winters” in her family that included her mother’s death, father’s decline, widowed daughter’s cancer,  husband’s heart issues, and other challenges.

I thought of this passage in the Song of Solomon, which on the first level addresses the awakening of pure love between a man and a maiden:

See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone.  Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. (Song of Solomon 2:11-12 NIV)

On other levels it speaks of our relationship with our Creator and Redeemer. God’s love can awaken non-believers from the winter of indifference and lead them to the fresh life of faith and joy. It doesn’t stop there, for the cycles of joy and sorrow are part of the human condition of both Christians and non-Christians. But we don’t need to stay in spiritual winters. There’s always the re-awakening of a spiritual spring through the power and hope of the risen Lord Jesus.

SHEDDING SOME LIGHT

One of the devotionals on my bookshelf is First Light by the late William Stoddard (Multnomah, 1990). He was a longtime Presbyterian pastor and, in retirement, the Protestant chaplain for two cruise lines. I appreciate this book because it’s not a quickie one-minute in-and-out devotional.  Each day’s reading includes several passages, and a four sections: What is God saying?  How does this apply to us? Pray with me. Moving on in the life of prayer.In his Day 81 devotional (which, if started on Jan. 1, would end up toward the end of March) the main scripture is Song of Solomon 2, and concludes: 

Let us be confident that Christ will bring the freshness and fragrance of spring into our lives. It may be winter all around us.  The earth may be frozen and hard.  Yet prayer can bring springtime to our souls, because it is centered on the living Christ and based on the power of His resurrection. (p. 163)

I don’t know about you, but I needed that reminder. Hurting people are all around me. But that's not the end of the story:

Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you.  But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed. (1 Peter 4:12-13)

Does that say “Easter” to you?  It does to me!

Like the stars forever

This is my “Daniel 12:2-3” plant. Through spring and summer, I water a pitiful collection of chopped-off stems in my front-door planter, hoping petunias will cover them over.  But by fall, those dead sticks have pushed out leaves and buds. By late October I’m treated to an explosion of color. Like stars in profusion picked up by powerful telescopes, they spill out of the planter in happy brilliance.  It’s quite a sight.

So what’s this about Daniel 12?  Here are the verses:
Multitudes who sleep in the dust of the earth will awake: some to everlasting life, others to shame and everlasting contempt.  Those who are wise will shine like the brightness of the heavens, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever.

The book of Daniel is a mix of biography and prophecy. What encouragement to read of a godly man who refused to compromise his faith, even as he lived under the authority of corrupt kings and civil authorities!  And what an awesome exercise to work through the predictions of world history that have happened, and will yet happen.

This particular “end-times” prophecy is the Bible’s first mention of “everlasting life,” though a few other Old Testament passages referred to a “resurrection.”  For the most part, the afterlife was given shadowy terms, like “Sheol.” But David caught a vision of something more-and-better in one of his psalms:

For you will not leave my soul in Sheol, nor will you allow Your Holy One to see corruption.  You will show me the path of life; in your presence is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.(Psalm 16:10-11)

Isaiah, whose prophecies reach far forward to a Messiah, wrote:

He will swallow up death forever,
And the Lord GOD will wipe away tears from all faces. (Isaiah 25:8)

“Fullness of joy”! My exploding bush says it in a plant-sort-of-way. “Pleasures forevermore”—oh, to anticipate it. But it’s not a given for everyone. I wonder if Daniel looked around at his fellow exiles and idolatrous neighbors and grieved for the spiritual deadness he saw—those destined for eternal “shame and everlasting contempt.”

I’d rather be on the bright side of eternal life, shining for Jesus Christ! How about you?

Grin & share it!

Here’s my second grandson, Zion, doing a “test drive” on a baby-safe rocking horse my husband found at a yard sale.  I’d say he liked it. Now nine months old, he’s a jug of joy. Maybe those smiles are extra special because during the first four months of his life, until his first cleft lip surgery, that little mouth had a split up through his nose and he had to endure pre-op treatments of mouth-molding devices and taping.  Often when I hold him, if I smile at him, he brightens up and returns a 100-watt grin.  Of course, like any baby, he has his fussy times. But the pure joy we sense in his smiles certainly overcompensates for the times we get the “baby grumps.”

“Joy” is one of those misunderstood virtues of the Christian life.  It’s not the shallow “happy-all-the-time” personality.  It’s the deep sense of being settled in the love of God, knowing nothing that happens is outside His wisdom and permission.  Joy faces the worst—in trust.  Jesus “for the joy set before him endured the cross” (Hebrews 12:2).  James wrote, “Consider it pure joy...whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance” (James 1:2-3). With chains dangling off his wrists, Paul wrote the Christians at Philippi: “Rejoice in the Lord always” (Phil. 4:5—the entire letter, in fact, has 15 uses of “joy” or “rejoice”).

Someone once tried to define “joy” with an acrostic of its English letters, of loving “Jesus, Others, Yourself.” I once bristled at that, thinking that loving “yourself” was quite ego-centric and didn’t belong in the mix.  Now I realize that J.O.Y. is a triangle, with all points reaching to each other. When we love Jesus, we love ourselves (meaning have a healthy view of we are in Christ).  When we love ourselves, we reach out and love others. Back again, loving others reveals our love for Christ.  I recall having someone ask me, “Why is so-and-so unfriendly at church? They never smile or talk to me.”  Knowing a bit of the background, I tried to explain that this person was on the journey of loving others and loving God, and needing some life skills in reaching out to strangers.  Hey, haven’t most of us been on that journey? 

That’s where smiling babies like Zion and his toddler brother Josiah have a built-in advantage.  In those times when the joy-factor peaks in their little lives, we can enjoy the moment with them.  Such joy is contagious, let this grandma assure you! You should see ME grin when I hear a little two-year-old shout in glee, “Nana!” Yes, I'm enjoying the "ride" of investing in this next generation.

Joy-gifts

Last week the Seattle paper featured a Norwegian immigrant who just turned 100, and whose life story included eluding capture by the Nazis by a daring, two-day journey by skis over the mountains to Sweden. Eventually, he immigrated to America, settling in Seattle.  When the reporter asked what helped him live so long, he nixed his daughter’s suggestions of eating lots of fish and drinking ten to twelve cups of coffee a day. Instead, he said, “It’s not good to be a sourpuss.  Learn to be happy.”

His reply reminded me of the apostle Paul’s advice: “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!”  Remarkably, this advice with the bookmark of Philippians 4:4 came from someone who was also a hunted man, and would be executed by the Romans.  Paul wasn’t saying we would live trouble-free lives and be happy-happy-happy.   Instead, no matter what happens, we’re to keep our focus on Jesus, the crucified, risen, and coming-again Lord. It’s called perspective.

I've learned that God has creative ways of reminding me about perspective. The other morning, after praying about some negative people in my life, I was feeling discouraged.  Would they ever let God change their lives? Walking outside, I noticed a freshly-opened rose, sparkling with water drops from the night’s rain. Yes, it had thorns up and down the stem, just as daily life holds its share of pokes and pains. Sourpusses dwell on the thorns. But God continues to remind me to focus on the beauty He offers.  This rose was absolutely splendid, so I took this photo and also downloaded it for the “wallpaper” of my computer screen.  If that rose brought me such pleasure, how much more it must have pleased God when He created it!

To repeat the counsel of that old Norwegian man, “It’s not good to be a sourpuss.  Learn to be happy.”  We can opt to fuss about life’s thorns, or choose to behold the gifts of beauty, grace and hope we have in Christ. By the way, the old man’s birthday will include meeting the king of Norway, for the third time, when that monarch comes to Seattle.  It’s unlikely I’ll live to 100, but I’m confident of meeting the King of Kings in eternity!

P.S.  In an earlier blog (April 24) I included a photo of my second grandson, Zion, born with a cleft lip and palate. Here he is two weeks after his first surgery to close the nose and lip gap. I look at this and say, “Beautiful!”  Too bad you can’t hear the baby laughter when I took this photo with his dad. More surgeries are ahead, but we’re focusing on the rose, not the thorns, and thanking God along the way.

 

Making 'Psense' of Psalms--Psalm 126: Joy and Tears

The analogy: sowing with tears, reaping with joy

Part of a continuing series on selected psalms.

Trapped.  Unappreciated.  Ignored. Rejected. When we experience emotions like this, we’re apt to think that God has forgotten us. Maybe we think our faith has failed us. Ancient Jews, exiled to Babylon, certainly did. The Jews were known for loving their music, but in their misery as exiles they refused to sing for their captors, hanging their harps in the local poplar trees (Psalm 137:2).

In such times, Psalm 126 comes to teach and encourage us. The setting is the release of Jews from captivity in Babylon, with permission to return to their homeland. Never before had a captive people been allowed to relocate “back home.” But not all returned—according to Ezra 2:64-68, about 50,000. That’s a sizeable number, but was only a portion of those taken as spoils of war. Those who opted to leave faced an arduous desert journey of hundreds of miles. Once back in their destroyed homeland, they were on their own.

Psalm 126 replays both ecstatic joy and tearful hope in these circumstances—emotions that we, too, may experience when life takes an unexpected, positive turn, or when life tries to drain us of hope.

ECSTATIC JOY

Several decades ago, while working at the headquarters of an international mission, I witnessed a dramatic re-enactment of the opening verses of Psalm 126. For nearly eight months—232 days—we’d prayed for a missionary couple and their small daughter, captured by rebels who herded them through the jungles of Southeast Asia. As the months dragged on, we gathered regularly to intercede for their safety and release. Then one morning, a special chapel meeting was called. It could mean only one of two outcomes: death or release. The mission’s Southeast Asia director began the meeting by reading from Psalm 126, his voice choked with emotion:
When the LORD turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream. Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing: then said they among the heathen, The LORD hath done great things for them. (vv. 1-2)
By then we knew they had been released!  He continued:
The LORD hath done great things for us; whereof we are glad. (v. 3)
Newer translations clarify verse 1: “When the Lord brought back the captives to Zion, we were like men who dreamed.” The prophet Isaiah had foretold this, even down to the name of the yet-unborn leader, Cyrus, who’d buck custom and release them (Isaiah 44:28). Having this actually happen was like their wildest dream coming true. They probably retrieved their harps from the trees to celebrate this amazing turn of events! Our cultural lens makes it hard to understand the intense emotion of being able to return to one’s historical homeland, steeped in the history of the patriarchs.

The glad declaration of verse 3 is how we should respond to God’s amazing blessings. It’s a witness to those around us (as is was to neighboring nations, v. 2c).  In her book The Satisfied Heart (Waterbrook, 1999, p. 171), author Ruth Myers remarked how it’s refreshing to be in the company of a “glad person.” Such a person can brighten an entire room. Likewise, it’s discouraging to be around someone who regularly gripes, complains, and seems trapped in a gloomy mindset.

TEARFUL HOPE

Upon learning of our colleagues’ release, tearful prayers of thanksgiving flowed freely during that chapel hour. Though thin and sick, they were still alive. But they’d face many adjustments plus the grief of losing their precious manuscripts of the New Testament in a tribal language—the reason they were in that country. This was the ‘70s, when “saving” information in an internet “cloud” was the stuff of dreams. It was all on paper. As I recall that loss, I think of another couple I know who have devoted their entire adult lives—almost half a century—to translating the New Testament into two dialects of a South American tribal language. They endured deprivation, serious illness, cultural issues, government pressure, apathy and the plain hard work of learning an unwritten language. Recently I watched a video they sent of their second New Testament dedication. As I watched them join their joyful tribal friends, holding their New Testaments aloft as they did a celebratory dance, I thought of this portion of Psalm 126:
Turn again our captivity, O LORD, as the streams in the south. They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him. (vv. 4-6 KJV)
 

Jews who returned to their homeland faced great hardships. The land was in shambles, the temple burned, and the left-behind occupants hostile. No wonder they prayed, “Restore our fortunes, O Lord” (v. 4, NIV, ESV). They had to build homes and plant crops, using the precious seed they brought from Babylon. If they scattered generously, there would be less to grind into flour for bread for their families, and even less later if those crops failed. No wonder the farmer wept as he planted. He had no guarantee of a crop, only trust in God to provide.

No doubt they remembered that God had covenanted to provide adequate food for His people (Deuteronomy 28:1-14), and were claiming that promise in the midst of uncertainties. They were counting on God’s abundance to be as remarkable and refreshing as the rare downpours in the desert of the Negev (v. 4), which temporarily produced torrents that greened up nearby land. They were also trusting God for the time when a heavy heart of uncertainty would become the light, glad heart of joy as they gathered a harvest.

Beneath this picture of sowing and reaping actual food is the spiritual picture of sowing and reaping for God’s kingdom. Spiritual crops take waiting and tears. I try to remember that when I open my prayer notebook and pray again, and again, for loved ones who have rejected Christ or His better plan for their lives. Tears may come as my intense desire to see them spiritually whole overcomes me. Nineteenth century preacher Charles Spurgeon remarked, “Winners of souls are first weepers for souls.  As there is no birth without travail, so there is no spiritual harvest without painful tillage.”

Besides starting over with life’s necessities of housing and crops, the returned exiles faced rebuilding their temple. The books of Ezra and Nehemiah tell of the opposition and disappointments they faced, and how steadfast trust that God got them through it all. A lesson from that for us if that if things came too easily, we wouldn’t feel our need of God.  Perhaps that’s why we need the balancing exultation and agony of Psalm 126. True joy—deep, hard-won joy—comes from acknowledging that every good gift comes from God.  We sow daily through diligence in our work or studies, building good friendships, parenting the best we can for God, and staying faithful in prayer and Bible study. The journey may bring disappointment and tears. But as Psalm 30:5 reminds, “Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” As we sow in God’s strength, we’ll reap in joy, and give Him the glory for it. Songs of joy, says the psalmist. Or to use the more recent lyrics given us by Fanny Crosby: “To God be the glory, great things he has done!”

 

Next: Psalm 130

 

Putting on a happy face

Some sunny creations (nicknamed “monkey-faces” for their black markings) guard the way to my front porch. The other day while watering my radiant-faced pansies, I was reminded of a favorite verse from Psalm 34: “Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame” (v. 5, NIV). The word “radiant” (“lightened” in the Bible’s 1611 translation) holds the key here. It comes from the Hebrew  nahar, whose root means “to sparkle” or “be cheerful.” It conveys the idea of the sheen of a running stream. I have a few sunny “nahar” friends, and I thank the Lord for them. They lift me up and remind me to do a “face check” myself. Sunny-faced people have welcoming countenances. They exude friendliness and joy.

It’s interesting that the context of this verse was anything but a joyful time in King David’s life.  The introduction clues us to events told in 1 Samuel 21. Fleeing for his life from mad King Saul, David dropped into an enemy city, Gath, thinking Saul certainly wouldn’t follow him there.  However, David had a “history” with this enemy, in that he’d once killed their hero giant, Goliath. Realizing Gath was unsafe for him, too, David pretended to be a mad man, slobbering on the city gates. The Gathites ran him out of town. With the campfires of Gath behind him, he realized that God had spared him from a very troublesome situation. His life was still in jeopardy, but he found reason to “extol the Lord at all times” (v. 1).

This passage reminded me of Jerry Bridges’ discussion of “joy” in his book, The Practice of Godliness. Published thirty years ago by NavPress, it’s one of those books I re-read from time to time for its challenges to my own spiritual journey. Bridges said we’re not to sit around waiting for our circumstances to make us joyful. Instead, scripture reminds us to be joyful always (1 Thessalonians 5:16, Philippians 4:4).

Bridges adds (p. 135): “Just being joyful is not enough, however; we should continually be growing in joy.  It is a contradiction for a Christian who professes to be a child of the one and only God—who created the universe and who governs it for his glory and the good of his people—to wear a gloomy countenance. As John W. Sanderson [author of The Fruit of the Spirit] says, ‘It is practical atheism, for it ignores God and his attributes.’”

Got the “glums”?  Need some encouragement to put on happy face?  Read through Psalm 34. Mark the passages that encourage or challenge you. If you could see my Bible, you’d see lots of verses highlighted. One especially marked is verse 3: “Glorify the Lord with me; let us exalt his name together.” My husband and I chose that as our wedding verse.

In the Pink

Two memories stand out to people who know my mother-in-law, Doris. The first is her big smile. The second is her love of pink. Only one navy blue dress hung in her closet, and that to be “respectful” at funerals. Everything else was pink. Tops, pants, dresses, nightgowns, robes, coats, shoes, slippers—her closet glowed like a sunrise. Her dear late husband also endured pink dishes, pink towels, pink bedspreads, and a pink couch and recliner. In summer, pink roses graced the table. After his death we painted her bedroom a bright pink, and I sewed her curtains splashed with pink roses.

A lot has changed in her life in the last few years. Now 89, she’s in a memory care facility with late-stage Alzheimer’s. She can’t walk or take care of personal needs. Her vocabulary has shrunk to a few words. Others must feed her. She sleeps a lot.

But the smile is still there. And every day, caregivers dress her in pink, still the only color in her wardrobe.

Curious about the phrase “in the pink,” I did an internet search. The common meaning, referring to rosy cheeks, denotes someone with good health and ready to go. But another meaning derives from English fox hunters, who wore scarlet jackets called “pinks.” Hunters “in the pink” were ready to chase the fox.

I thought about that as Doris inches toward her last day on earth.

The other day, when I helped feed her breakfast, I thought how life isn’t fun any more. Because of swallowing issues, her food is pureed. Her plate held yellow glop (eggs) and brown glop (sausage)—a far cry from the strawberry syrup over waffles I used to fix for her breakfast at home.

As I urged her to open her mouth for another taste of glop, I said, “Doris, just for you I wore a pink shirt today.” At the mention of “pink,” the corners of her indifferent mouth widened and she gave me a big-wattage smile. (And no, I didn’t try to “zoom” another spoonful in there. I just savored the moment.)

For some reason, that vignette reminded me of what Hebrews 12:2 says about Jesus—who “for the JOY set before him endured the cross.”

The indignities of a failing body are now Doris’s “cross” to bear. But even in the darkened shell of her mind, there are bright corners where that joy still beams out. The smile. The joy of “thinking pink.” And the hope of being “in the pink”—ready to go—when the Lord says “enter My joy, child, and come Home.”