Looking to the rock

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

When life's gloomy

Talk about a gloomy day!  Though sunny outside, a storm system had moved inside. Negative thoughts splattered as I went about my chores. This photo is the best way I can illustrate it! I was dealing with some gray emotional clouds that rose up after a morning prayer time. For years I’d prayed for certain people who had a hard time “doing life.” Over and over I’d prayed that these people would drop negative habits, find joy in the Lord, sense purpose for life, acquire quality friends, or discover God’s will. But it seemed nothing was changing for the good. I was frustrated, even worried, about their futures. As my concern grew over the next hours, it was like a shroud over my day. Surely God was noticing how much I cared for these people!  

His answer came in an Email. A writer-friend, Kathy Collard Miller, had a book coming out. Would I be willing to review it? Her request turned out to be “apples of gold in settings of silver.”  No, not that old, famed book of quotes and aphorisms, but golden counsel I needed that week. Kathy is a seasoned author (nearly 50 books) and speaker (U.S. and overseas).

Timely for my “clouded perspective,” this new book is on “worry.” Titled Partly Cloudy with Scattered Worries, it teaches how it’s possible to worry less by trusting God more. Her insights helped me close up my gloom umbrella and realign some spiritual perspectives. Chapter 8, for example, tackles how worrying is really an attempt to control others. She highlights three false attitudes behind that premise.

False idea #1: “Worry communicates love,” as in “I was SO worried about you.” Truth: Worry communicates distrust. Worrying is a control device that can drive a wedge between people. “Prayer is powerful, worry is powerless,” she writes. “Prayer builds the relationship, worry destroys the relationship.”

False idea #2: “Worry changes other people.”  Truth: Worry doesn’t change others. Worry causes us to fall into a rut of thinking we’re responsible for another’s happiness. Kathy recalled worrying about her daughter’s unhappy “host family” situation during a college semester overseas. But her daughter emerged from that troubled semester with a healthy appreciation for her real family. Instead of worrying, we need to let God use a difficult situation in someone’s life. 

 

False idea #3. “Worry controls other people.” Truth:  It’s not our role to “rescue” people. She shared the story of an elderly woman who, worried about a troubled grandson, paid his rent and food for three years so he wouldn’t be homeless. By “worrying” through her financial support, she was actually interfering with God’s discipline in the young man’s life. Citing Proverbs 19:19, Kathy remarked, “Neither worrying nor rescuing does any good. It only brings destruction….He (or she) needs to be needy so that he/she will need God.” 

In other situations where people struggle (like those on my gloomy-day prayer list), Kathy reminds us that their failures are not a reflection on us. Instead, we’re to pray and set appropriate boundaries. There’s lots more, of course, to the book. Should I stop praying for spiritually needy people? Absolutely not! The Bible commands intercession. Prayer does change things, but not in the way nor in the time we think. God didn’t create robots. He created people with free will (make that: strong wills). But He still loves us more than we can imagine. He even loved me enough to allow me to experience a gloomy day. Then He gently pulled me out of it through a writer-friend’s timely counsel.

When you wait, and wait, on God

Have you prayed for years, even decades, regarding something and see no hope of an answer? Welcome to God’s Pray-Waiting Club. Sometimes I sing a duet with King David, who pined, “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?  How long will you hide your face from me?”  (Psalm 13:1).

 

Those who think of God as “somewhere out there looking down on us” are probably most discouraged by unanswered prayer. They imagine God is too busy processing millions of prayers to pay much detailed attention to them. But such a view demeans the greatness of God. Still, when no answer seems to come to our prayers, we may feel abandoned or forgotten. That’s when we need scriptural reminders that God always hears our prayers and always responds.  But He will not be manipulated. His answer will come in His way, in His time, and to fulfill His purpose. And sometimes that’s “no,” for some of these reasons:

*In response to disobedience and dishonor. Moses truly wanted to step into the Promised Land. Then he lost his temper in a way that dishonored God. When the people rose up against Moses because there was no water, God had told him to “speak” to a certain rock, and it would provide water.  Instead, he stormed,  “Listen you rebels, must we bring you water out of this rock?” (Numbers 20:10).  The pronoun “we” put Moses on equal footing with God. Then, instead of speaking, he whammed the rock with his staff.  God took that seriously and right then set the punishment: Moses wouldn’t enter the land.  Moses’ heart-breaking disappointment shows how  God loves us but also has laid out how to relate to a holy God. Any sin--public or private, done or neglected to be done--is an affront to His holiness.

*To fulfill God’s higher plan. Jesus knew going through crucifixion would be excruciating. Worse, He’d suffocate under the dark weight of the world’s sin.  His Father would turn His face away. “My Father,” He pleaded that last night in Gethsemane, “if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me.”  But He knew the Father’s will was to go through it: “Yet not as I will, but as you will” (Matthew 25:39). God may leave us in a difficult situation because He sees the end result. That challenging job, difficult roommate,  marital conflict, illness or disability may be the tool He uses to develop godly character that pushes through.

*To help us experience God’s sufficiency.  Paul felt he’d suffered enough. Missionary life had meant imprisonment, beatings, shipwrecks, travel dangers, criminal harm, sleep deprivation, hunger, ragged clothing, and edge-of-death trauma (see 2 Corinthians 11). He also carried a huge emotional pastor’s burden. Whatever the source—an old injury?—he continued to suffer a “thorn in the flesh” that simply wouldn’t go away. To help him endure this, he had a special-delivery message from Christ: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:7-10). To that, Paul responded with words that still instruct us:  “That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

God’s “no” is never arbitrary. In His profound wisdom and unfailing love, He seeks only our best. That’s not necessarily our comfort, but it’s what will bring Him honor and impact our world for good. As we accept the “no” and begin to see His hand in our lives, then we’ll come full-circle to the conclusion of Psalm 13.  After hanging out all his “how-long” questions, the psalmist decides:

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. (Psalm 13:6)

Mushrooms and Psalm 1

Talk about “night visitors”! As I went outside juggling a basket of wet laundry, I almost stepped on some surprise squatters. These brown umbrella disks had popped overnight through some scraggly grass where I’d overwatered. If you didn’t know, a mushroom is a fast-growing fungus that feeds off decaying matter and is common in moist places. I knew they wouldn’t last more than a few days, but went ahead and snapped them away, depositing them in the garbage.  I’d recently studied Psalm 1 and toyed with how verse 3 (about the godly man) would read if mushrooms were substituted for that tree planted by streams of water:

He is like a mushroom that pops up in moist places. He feeds on decay, and in a couple days withers away.

Obviously, the analogy doesn’t work. The psalmist made the perfect analogy to a sturdy fruit tree whose roots grow deep, producing fruit season after season. The application, of course, is sending out deep spiritual roots that will support the growing of spiritual fruit.

This is the growth process J. Oswald Sanders wrote about in The Joy of Following Jesus: “It is the responsibility of the disciple to be the best he or she can be for God.  To please Him is a most worthy aim. He wants us to realize the full purpose of our creation; He does not want us to be content with bland mediocrity” (Moody, 1994, p. 63).

Perhaps it’s because I’m so aware of media addictions that this quote burns into my heart. The “mushroom mentality” feeds on the world’s decay, widely served up enticingly with the click of a computer mouse or a TV remote. Every morning, for example, when I open up my computer’s “home page” to check the weather or start some research, I’m blindsided by what someone thinks is “news” or “trend.” The computer helps me as a writer on spiritual topics, but I could waste hours following cutesy animal videos, celebrity gossip, fashion, sports, games, or personal trivia.

Sanders hit it on the nail: “Many fail to achieve anything significant for God or man because they lack a dominating ambition.  No great task was ever achieved without the complete abandonment to it that a worthy ambition inspires.” How we use our time is a choice—for good or bad. Sanders cited the story of Thomas Scott (1747-1821), who was the low-achiever of his school.  In those days they called him the “dunce.”  Most of his teachers expected little of him.  But someone, somewhere, said something that awakened in him a master ambition.  Slowly, steadily he worked toward it. Sanders continued, “He grew to be a strong and worthy man”—so well-regarded that he succeeded John Newton (former slave trader-turned-believer, best known for “Amazing Grace”) as rector of the church at Aston Sandford.

 

He also wrote a large commentary on the whole Bible that influenced his generation and is still consulted. Scott didn’t achieve that feeding on the decay of the world.  His roots went down deep with God. His life yielded fruit. His leaves didn’t wither. What he did, prospered.

“Mushroom” choices aren’t anything new. The apostle Paul anguished over those he saw in his times, and encouraged stronger believers to help those so entrapped. But he offered a warning for the “helpers” as well: be careful. His counsel in Galatians 6:1 (at right) is a good “screen saver”!

Coping with Dropitis

So far, “dropitis” hasn’t made it into the medical manuals, but it’s a real and serious syndrome. I should know.  The other morning I hoped to do something noble for humanity, after I changed the sheets and washed the dishes. But as I pulled fresh sheets on the bed, I discovered a dirty sock with an air-conditioned toe. Going to the sewing machine to mend it, I realized my machine’s needle needed tightening. Dropping the sock, I went out to the garage for a tiny screwdriver. I found it okay, but noticed the measuring tape and hammer from the last fix-it project were in a pile on the workbench. Dropping the screwdriver, I tidied the workbench and went back in the house. That’s when breakfast dishes confronted me. After washing them, I decided the dishrag was hosting a few trillion battleship-gray germs, so headed for the bleach. Opening the cleaning cupboard, I saw I needed to buy bleach. I dropped the rag on the floor by the washer and reached for the car keys.

At the grocery store, after dropping bleach into my cart, I remembered wanting to cook a meal for a friend battling cancer. Home again with bleach and a bulging bag of groceries for my family’s and friend’s meals, I dropped my coat and purse and charged into cooking duties. As the sink piled with dirty dishes, I was glad I’d at least washed breakfast’s pile. By nighttime, I’d still hadn’t changed the bed or achieved world peace. But somebody in need had a meal.

 

I take comfort in knowing that Jesus picked disciples who had "dropitis."  Simon and Andrew dropped the net they were fishing with, and James and John dropped the nets they were mending. And don't forget short Zaccheus, who dropped out of a tree and asked the Lord, "What do you want me to do?" When Jesus drops into our lives, priorities change.

Going higher

This stairwell in my friend’s home makes one stop and think!

            At first, I was reminded of  Jacob’s dream of angels on a ladder or stairwell to heaven (Genesis 28). Then I recalled Paul’s testimony in Philippians 3:14: “I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

            And then, I thought of a hymn inspired by that particular verse, “Higher Ground.”  It begins: “I’m pressing on the upward way, New heights I’m gaining every day; Still praying as I onward bound, ‘Lord, plant my feet on higher ground.’”

The lyrics, published in 1898, were written by Johnson Oatman (1856-1922), who, although ordained through the Methodist Episcopal Church, worked in retail and later insurance all his life. In his spare time he wrote an estimated 3,000-5,000 hymn lyrics, meaning he completed them at a rate of about four a week. A few have survived to this century, including this one, “Count Your Blessings,” “No, Not One!” and “I’m Living on the Hallelujah Side.”

Most of Oatman’s lyrics focused on Christian growth and personal victory,  expressing how it isn’t enough to just “know” Christ (through accepting His death for one’s sins) but also to “know” Him better and deeper. Thus this hymn, whose chorus goes:  “Lord, lift me up and let me stand/By faith on heaven’s tableland./A higher plain than I have found:/Lord, plant my feet on higher ground.”

            That “higher ground” includes growing in the traits expressed on my friend’s stairwell.  I don’t perform 100% on any of them, but that’s the essence of growing as a Christian –or, as Oatman wrote, aspiring to higher ground. Many of those traits are found in three “Christian living lists” of the New Testament.

            One is the so-called “love chapter” of 1 Corinthians 13:4-8. It comes after Paul’s rebuke of flashy (and shallow) spirituality in that ancient church, taking them back to the basics of Christian love:  patience, kindness, refusing to envy or boast, and eleven more.   Another list is the “fruit of the Spirit” beginning in Galatians 5:22.  Again, Paul had defined what “not to do” by describing X-rated acts of the sinful. In contrast, the spirit-empowered person grows in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

            The third list, which I think best illustrates a spiritual stairwell, is in 2 Peter 1:3-7.  This portion of scripture discusses making one’s calling and “election” sure—in other words, giving true evidence that you are a growing believer.

Peter precedes his list with a command: “Make every effort to add to your faith” (1:3). We can’t ascend a stairwell without lifting a foot, and we can’t grow spiritually by expecting some outside force to zap us with the right attitudes and actions.  It takes deliberate changing of habits with dependence on the Holy Spirit to add to each of these:  goodness, knowledge, self-control, perseverance, godliness, brotherly kindness and love.

Peter adds: “For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ” (v. 8).

            There’s the word “know” again (in “knowledge”)--for to truly know Him is to aspire to the truly satisfying “Highest ground,” of eternity with Him.