"Grasping Or Receiving?"
Psalm 23
The Russian author, Leo Tolstoy, once wrote a short story titled, "Land Enough For A Man." In the story there is a man who decided he needed more land. He already had quite a bit of land, but he wanted more. In some of the vast plains of Russia, the government allowed people to set up land claims if they would settle there and farm the land. So this character set out to stake his claim.
To stake a claim, each person had to walk the distance in circumference around the amount of land they desired. In one day. The man decided to walk as far as he could in one direction, then, when he thought he had enough for a man, he would drive a stake in the ground. Then he would turn 90 degrees and start walking again until he felt that would be enough for a man. There he would drive another stake in the ground. He would keep doing so until he had walked off a huge square of land, "land enough for man," he would tell his family.
So he set out walking, with his four stakes in hand. After having walked a long journey with two more stakes yet to be positioned, the man began to be weary. "I don't have enough," the man talked to himself. "This isn't land enough for a man," he spoke to the sun. He hadn't taken enough water or food with him for the trip. He pounded in his third stake and headed for home. His feet were dragging. His tongue was caked and dry. He was out of food and out of water. The sun beamed down upon him like lasers. In total exhaustion, before his final stake was driven into the land to make his claim, at the end of the day, the man collapsed and died.
His family searched for and found the man. At the place he died, they buried him. It was a plot of ground, as Tolstoy's last words of the story described, "that was land enough for a man."
Like I've been telling people lately, I've been watching nature documentaries on Netflix. With each show I am always amazed at what a beautiful planet we have, put together by such a creative God, who must have a great sense of humor when you look at the colors and behaviors of plants and animals that also call this planet home.
In parts of central Africa, one of the big "industries" is the capture and export of monkeys. Trappers have a unique way of catching monkeys. First, trappers spread the kinds of foods the monkeys like around on the ground. They do this for several days.
Then they fill a hollowed out coconut with some of the food. There is a hole cut in the coconut just large enough for a monkey to put its hand in. On the other end of the coconut, a thin but strong rope is attached. The trappers leave the food filled coconut lying on the ground. Holding on to his end of the rope, the trappers hide in the bushes.
When the monkey finds the coconut, it is as ecstatic as a gold miner coming across the mother lode. It reaches in and grabs a handful of food. But because of the size of the hole, it can't get its full and fisted hand out.
That's when the trapper starts reeling the monkey in. The monkey, greedy as it is, will not let go of its handful of food. Therefore it has doomed itself to being caught and shipped off to one of the world's zoos or pet stores.
If we have evolved from monkeys, it appears we haven't evolved very far, behavior wise. We seem to be greedy graspers by nature, when the opportunity for being greedy presents itself. We grab for things and we don't want to let go of them once we have them, even if those things become our cage or lead to our demise. We generally are people who aren't satisfied and always want more—or want something different. A deep sense of satisfaction, at-homeness, or peace eludes most people.
There seems to be a law—and I think it's a spiritual law—that the more you grasp or grab, the more you lose (or stand to lose). But, the more you are willing to receive, the more you gain.
Psalm 23 is about that law. In order to understand that law, in light of this psalm, do some imagining with me for a moment. Imagine King David, the author of this psalm, as an old man. He is looking back over his life, remembering, reviewing the high and low points. He is making a mental ledger sheet of sorts, dividing up what he assesses to be the things he has been able to keep and the things he has lost. He ponders why he was able to keep the things he has kept, and lost the things he lost.
As you watch David in your mind's eye, and hear his thoughts, it suddenly becomes clear to you that what he lost are the things he grabbed for, particularly in his episode with Bathsheba. His grabbing for her cost so much, including the death of his son. But the things he kept were the things he received as gifts from the LORD, particularly those things related to his kingship and devotion to God.
And then you watch, as this old man David, who, through his memories, has come to realize that truth: The more you grasp, the more you lose, or stand to lose. The more you receive the gifts from God, the more you find satisfaction, contentment, peace, well-being, roundedness, and at-homeness; in other words, the more you gain.
The philosopher, W.P. Montague, suggested that the question we start each day with should be, "How can I keep from letting the things that matter most from being at the mercy of the things that matter least?" I would add and amend that question to be, "How can I keep myself from grasping and grabbing at the things that matter least and recognize and receive from God the things that matter most?"
If David did write this Psalm in his old age, as some scholars think, why must we wait until old age to look back and ask such questions? Why does it take so long for us to understand such a truth? When you grab, you lose; when you receive, you gain.
The Lord is my shepherd
I have everything I need.
There is power and meaning behind the truth I am talking about. Part of the power of this opening phrase in the psalm has to do with the structure of Hebrew poetry. There is no word rhyme in Hebrew poetry. Instead, they rhyme ideas. One phrase makes a statement, and the next phrase rhymes, or builds on and enhances the first. The second phrase restates the meaning of the first statement so that a fuller understanding can be gained by the reader.
This opening verse of Psalm 23 forces us to examine what it is we really need, versus all the things we want and therefore grab at. What is it that we really need, according to this verse? Answer: The Lord as our shepherd. Beyond that, there is nothing else we need. But we can't get the Lord as our Shepherd, or what the shepherding Lord has to offer, by grabbing.
Here's your journaling exercise for this week. Walk through your house, barns, fields, offices, and look at all your things. Look at all the stuff you have accumulated around you. As you look at each thing, simply put a label on it: grabbed, or received. Be honest. And when you have completed your walk and assess the amount of stuff under each of the words grabbed or received, what was the cumulative effect? Write about that.
What are the things you really need, that give you a sense of personhood, meaning and identity? My guess is they really aren't the things you have grabbed and acquired over the years, but things you have received from God. What, in your life, is represented by "still waters," "green pastures," "right paths," "shepherd's rod and staff," "a banquet," an "overflowing cup," "a home."
I believe you ultimately come to the realization that David did, that one's companionship with God gifts you with everything you need, both spiritual and material.
It is that companionship with God which transforms every situation in life, as this Psalm alludes:
Where there was stress there is rest;
Where there was dry, sultry noise, there is quiet;
Where there was weakness, there is strength;
Where there was a sad string of misguided choices, there are now right paths;
Where there was deepest darkness and fear, there is presence and protection;
Where there was running from enemies, there is a banquet enjoyed in front of them, before which they are not invited;
Where there was the loneliness of being an outsider, there is the welcome as an honored guest;
Where there was homelessness, there is eternal home.
All of this issues from the transforming companionship of God, who is the Creator of a new orientation, the Giver of all that is needed, and the Provider of amazing options. Our Shepherd God only asks that we receive what He has to give. All that we receive from our Shepherding Lord, we will never lose. Because, ultimately, as David discovered, all that we have grabbed along the way will be lost from our grasp and become meaningless. The only things that will remain is what we have received. Because all that we receive from the Lord is all we need.
The Lord is my shepherd;
I have everything I need.
Monday, March 27, 2017
Tuesday, March 21, 2017
The List of Thankfulness
"The List of Thankfulness"
Psalm 95
How many of you make lists? (show of hands)
How many of you who make lists, mainly make To-Do Lists? (show of hands) Jan Luttrell is a great To-Do list maker. And she gets a lot done each day. It must be very gratifying to scratch out stuff on your list as you go through your day. I always put, "Drink a cup of tea" on my To-Do list. That way I know I'll get at least one thing done.
There are other kinds of lists you can make. I saw a list this week that was titled, "Fun Things You Can Do On An Elevator." Here it is:
1. Stand silently and motionless in the corner, facing the wall, without getting off.
2. Crack open your briefcase or purse and while peering inside, ask, "Got enough air in there?
3. Drop a pen and wait until someone bends to pick it up; then scream, "That's mine!"
4. Leave a box in the corner, and when someone gets on, ask them if they can hear ticking.
5. Stare, grinning at another passenger for a while, then announce, "I have new socks on."
6. Stare at another passenger for a while, then announce in horror, "You're one of THEM!" and back away slowly.
7. Greet everyone with a warm handshake and ask them to call you Admiral.
8. Dress up as the devil and then ask other people as they get in, "Going down?"
9. Put a small desk in the elevator, and sit behind it. When the door opens, ask the person standing there, "Do you have an appointment?"
10. Announce in a creepy voice, over and over, "I must find a more suitable host body."
How many of you would do such things? (show of hands)
So far, during our Journaling Class, as well as Sunday mornings during sermons, I have suggested a few exercises to write about using lists. Making lists, within the spiritual discipline of journaling can help you in a lot of ways. Lists can be answers to important questions. The more answers you have to look at, the less confusion you have to deal with.
Making a list can help you select and prioritize what is really important. Looking at your lists, you can decide what is just minutia, and what really matters. Once you have your list made, say of values you feel are important to exemplify in life, and you cross off those that really don't matter, or create the kind of ripple effect you hope for, then you've gone a long way in setting your priorities. Now that you have a short list of your core values, you can develop the actions you will take in which those core values will shine through.
There are times in anyone's life where you feel chaotic, scattered, unclear and out of control. Making a list of these situations, and looking at them on paper can help you organize and contain a sense of inner chaos, which can make your load feel more manageable.
This morning, I'm going to suggest you make a short list—no more than three items—of what you are thankful to God for. We're going to use Psalm 95 as a guide for those three items for which we are thankful. So, in a way, the list has already been made for you. Easy-peasy assignment. Until you see what the three things are.
The first thing Psalm 95 thanks God for is that,
The LORD is the greatest God,
king over all other gods. (vs. 3)
That seems pretty straightforward, doesn't it?
An interesting fact is that the Old Testament doesn't dispute that there are other gods. In fact, the Old Testament people assume there are. They know there are. At some points the Old Testament prophets make the case that these other gods are actually no-gods at all. At other places, the other gods are acknowledged, but the people are told not to worship them. At all!
These other gods were all over the place. There was the god baal, who in many cultures around Israel, was the god of the storm. Baal was the god who created and granted fertility of crops and people. He was also the god of justice, of whom people were terrified because his justice was so harsh and punishing. The goddesses, asherah, astarte, and anath, were consorts of baal, mostly having to do with fertility rites.
Dagan was the god of the coastal people called the Philistines. He was the fish god, and also a fertility god.
There are other gods today, some of which go along with the gods of the past. Our other gods today are more ideas, or false values. Things like pleasure, the self, prestige, safety, the human body, and power. Two of the biggest gods, that are invoked daily in our culture, are blame and denial.
Mainly, these false gods are things that have weaseled their way into your lives to such an extent that it would be really hard for you to separate them from who you are. They are such a part of you, such a part of your everyday life, that if you had to stop giving it that place, you don't know what you'd do.
Here's the part I really want you to do some hard thinking about. List and identify that in your life that is on the level of being another god. Then, once you're done making your list, ask of each entry, compared to this entry, "Is the LORD the greatest God, king over this god?" Are you thankful for the fact that the LORD is greater than all other gods—so much greater, in fact, that the LORD wants that other god out of your life?
Secondly, the psalmist is thankful that the LORD holds the deepest parts (meaning, the oceans) in his hands. The reason that ancient people were thankful God holds the oceans is because the oceans—the deep—was the scariest part of the creation. The ocean is where the most fearsome beasts dwelt.
One of those beasts was Tiamat, the symbol of chaos prior to creation. Tiamat was a female god of great beauty, but who could transform into a monstrous sea serpent dragon, unleashing chaos upon the world from the bottom of the ocean. Tiamat was believed to have created the first dragons who were filled with poison instead of blood.
The other ocean god was Marduk, the storm god. All storms were believed to originate in the oceans, created by Marduk.
So, as the psalm states, if God holds the deepest oceans in his hands, God also, then, holds the scariest parts of those oceans in his hands as well. Thus, our God is in control of the oceans and anything in them.
Think of the scariest parts of your life—the things that terrify you the most. God has control of those, holding them in his hands. For God to hold our scariest thoughts, and experiences means God can deal with them in mighty and powerful ways.
So make a list of what scares you most. Keep the list pretty much in the center of the page of your journal. Then when you are done with the list, draw a large pair of hands holding that list. Aren't you so thankful for God's hands are holding and taking care of your fears?
And, lastly, the psalmist is thankful for how God tends to us like a shepherd does her sheep. The psalmist states, "…we are his people, the sheep he takes care of in his own pasture. Listen to God's voice today!"
Jesus said something similar in the gospel of John:
When (the shepherd) has led out all of his sheep, he walks in front of them, and they follow, because they know his voice. The sheep will not follow strangers. They don't recognize a stranger's voice, and they run away. (John 10:4-5)
There are lots of qualities of the relationship between shepherd and sheep. But the one—the only one—highlighted here, is, as God's sheep we hear and know his voice. The psalm first identifies us as God's people. Then, as God's people we are sheep he takes care of. Then, that which links us most intimately with God is hearing his voice "today."
One of the themes I am running into in all the classes I'm teaching now is the temptation or trait we humans have of trying to do everything on our own—to face life as a lone wolf. It may not be self-centeredness, as much as it is our assumption that we should be able to take life on, on our own. That somehow we're a failure as a person if we have to ask for help. Or that we have to have someone take care of us. Our fierce independence is part of what keeps us from allowing God to take us to his pasture and take care of us as he sheep.
Aren't there times you just want to be taken care of, though? To just give up taking life on alone? Or trying to bandage yourself up from all the wounds life inflicts? To just let God tend to you? To hear God's tender and tending voice, calming you while God bandages your wounds? To be taken, by God, out into a lush pasture—whatever that represents for you—and lets you roam, and eat, and rest, and sleep in the soft grass? Don't you wish you could turn yourself over to God for that kind of treatment? That's what the psalmist thanks God for.
Make a list of the ways you would love to have God tend to you. In and around and through that list draw the grass of God's pasture, symbolizing your thankfulness for how God takes care of you.
So these are the three experiences with God the psalmist is thankful for. In your journal this week, write three things you are thankful to God for that has to do with the three themes in this Psalm. See what you come up with.
Psalm 95
How many of you make lists? (show of hands)
How many of you who make lists, mainly make To-Do Lists? (show of hands) Jan Luttrell is a great To-Do list maker. And she gets a lot done each day. It must be very gratifying to scratch out stuff on your list as you go through your day. I always put, "Drink a cup of tea" on my To-Do list. That way I know I'll get at least one thing done.
There are other kinds of lists you can make. I saw a list this week that was titled, "Fun Things You Can Do On An Elevator." Here it is:
1. Stand silently and motionless in the corner, facing the wall, without getting off.
2. Crack open your briefcase or purse and while peering inside, ask, "Got enough air in there?
3. Drop a pen and wait until someone bends to pick it up; then scream, "That's mine!"
4. Leave a box in the corner, and when someone gets on, ask them if they can hear ticking.
5. Stare, grinning at another passenger for a while, then announce, "I have new socks on."
6. Stare at another passenger for a while, then announce in horror, "You're one of THEM!" and back away slowly.
7. Greet everyone with a warm handshake and ask them to call you Admiral.
8. Dress up as the devil and then ask other people as they get in, "Going down?"
9. Put a small desk in the elevator, and sit behind it. When the door opens, ask the person standing there, "Do you have an appointment?"
10. Announce in a creepy voice, over and over, "I must find a more suitable host body."
How many of you would do such things? (show of hands)
So far, during our Journaling Class, as well as Sunday mornings during sermons, I have suggested a few exercises to write about using lists. Making lists, within the spiritual discipline of journaling can help you in a lot of ways. Lists can be answers to important questions. The more answers you have to look at, the less confusion you have to deal with.
Making a list can help you select and prioritize what is really important. Looking at your lists, you can decide what is just minutia, and what really matters. Once you have your list made, say of values you feel are important to exemplify in life, and you cross off those that really don't matter, or create the kind of ripple effect you hope for, then you've gone a long way in setting your priorities. Now that you have a short list of your core values, you can develop the actions you will take in which those core values will shine through.
There are times in anyone's life where you feel chaotic, scattered, unclear and out of control. Making a list of these situations, and looking at them on paper can help you organize and contain a sense of inner chaos, which can make your load feel more manageable.
This morning, I'm going to suggest you make a short list—no more than three items—of what you are thankful to God for. We're going to use Psalm 95 as a guide for those three items for which we are thankful. So, in a way, the list has already been made for you. Easy-peasy assignment. Until you see what the three things are.
The first thing Psalm 95 thanks God for is that,
The LORD is the greatest God,
king over all other gods. (vs. 3)
That seems pretty straightforward, doesn't it?
An interesting fact is that the Old Testament doesn't dispute that there are other gods. In fact, the Old Testament people assume there are. They know there are. At some points the Old Testament prophets make the case that these other gods are actually no-gods at all. At other places, the other gods are acknowledged, but the people are told not to worship them. At all!
These other gods were all over the place. There was the god baal, who in many cultures around Israel, was the god of the storm. Baal was the god who created and granted fertility of crops and people. He was also the god of justice, of whom people were terrified because his justice was so harsh and punishing. The goddesses, asherah, astarte, and anath, were consorts of baal, mostly having to do with fertility rites.
Dagan was the god of the coastal people called the Philistines. He was the fish god, and also a fertility god.
There are other gods today, some of which go along with the gods of the past. Our other gods today are more ideas, or false values. Things like pleasure, the self, prestige, safety, the human body, and power. Two of the biggest gods, that are invoked daily in our culture, are blame and denial.
Mainly, these false gods are things that have weaseled their way into your lives to such an extent that it would be really hard for you to separate them from who you are. They are such a part of you, such a part of your everyday life, that if you had to stop giving it that place, you don't know what you'd do.
Here's the part I really want you to do some hard thinking about. List and identify that in your life that is on the level of being another god. Then, once you're done making your list, ask of each entry, compared to this entry, "Is the LORD the greatest God, king over this god?" Are you thankful for the fact that the LORD is greater than all other gods—so much greater, in fact, that the LORD wants that other god out of your life?
Secondly, the psalmist is thankful that the LORD holds the deepest parts (meaning, the oceans) in his hands. The reason that ancient people were thankful God holds the oceans is because the oceans—the deep—was the scariest part of the creation. The ocean is where the most fearsome beasts dwelt.
One of those beasts was Tiamat, the symbol of chaos prior to creation. Tiamat was a female god of great beauty, but who could transform into a monstrous sea serpent dragon, unleashing chaos upon the world from the bottom of the ocean. Tiamat was believed to have created the first dragons who were filled with poison instead of blood.
The other ocean god was Marduk, the storm god. All storms were believed to originate in the oceans, created by Marduk.
So, as the psalm states, if God holds the deepest oceans in his hands, God also, then, holds the scariest parts of those oceans in his hands as well. Thus, our God is in control of the oceans and anything in them.
Think of the scariest parts of your life—the things that terrify you the most. God has control of those, holding them in his hands. For God to hold our scariest thoughts, and experiences means God can deal with them in mighty and powerful ways.
So make a list of what scares you most. Keep the list pretty much in the center of the page of your journal. Then when you are done with the list, draw a large pair of hands holding that list. Aren't you so thankful for God's hands are holding and taking care of your fears?
And, lastly, the psalmist is thankful for how God tends to us like a shepherd does her sheep. The psalmist states, "…we are his people, the sheep he takes care of in his own pasture. Listen to God's voice today!"
Jesus said something similar in the gospel of John:
When (the shepherd) has led out all of his sheep, he walks in front of them, and they follow, because they know his voice. The sheep will not follow strangers. They don't recognize a stranger's voice, and they run away. (John 10:4-5)
There are lots of qualities of the relationship between shepherd and sheep. But the one—the only one—highlighted here, is, as God's sheep we hear and know his voice. The psalm first identifies us as God's people. Then, as God's people we are sheep he takes care of. Then, that which links us most intimately with God is hearing his voice "today."
One of the themes I am running into in all the classes I'm teaching now is the temptation or trait we humans have of trying to do everything on our own—to face life as a lone wolf. It may not be self-centeredness, as much as it is our assumption that we should be able to take life on, on our own. That somehow we're a failure as a person if we have to ask for help. Or that we have to have someone take care of us. Our fierce independence is part of what keeps us from allowing God to take us to his pasture and take care of us as he sheep.
Aren't there times you just want to be taken care of, though? To just give up taking life on alone? Or trying to bandage yourself up from all the wounds life inflicts? To just let God tend to you? To hear God's tender and tending voice, calming you while God bandages your wounds? To be taken, by God, out into a lush pasture—whatever that represents for you—and lets you roam, and eat, and rest, and sleep in the soft grass? Don't you wish you could turn yourself over to God for that kind of treatment? That's what the psalmist thanks God for.
Make a list of the ways you would love to have God tend to you. In and around and through that list draw the grass of God's pasture, symbolizing your thankfulness for how God takes care of you.
So these are the three experiences with God the psalmist is thankful for. In your journal this week, write three things you are thankful to God for that has to do with the three themes in this Psalm. See what you come up with.
Monday, March 13, 2017
Ask A Question
"Ask A Question"
Psalm 121
Albert Einstein once said: (up on screen)
If I had an hour to solve a problem and my life depended on the solution, I would spend the first 55 minutes to determine the proper question to ask; for once I know the proper question, I could solve the problem in less than five minutes.
I want you to apply Einstein's thinking in this quote and tell me how it applies, exactly to the opening two verses of Psalm 121.
I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From where does my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.
Ready. Go. (Discuss to see if anyone gets it.)
The psalmist is struggling with the proper question in the opening of his psalm. The clue is in the first two verses. The first question he asks is, "From where does my help come?" He asks the question as he is eyeing the hills around Jerusalem. Those huge, strong mountains. The most famous mountain was the Mount of Olives which stood about 300 feet higher than the Temple Mount, upon which Jerusalem stood, and over 100 feet higher than any part of the city. On the north side of the city stood the awesome Mizpeh of Benjamin. There was also Gibeon and Ramah and the ridge near Bethlehem in the distant east.
These mountains symbolized strength and permanence. But even that kind of durability and constancy can't provide the "help" that the psalmist needs. You can't rely on something for salvation that needs salvation itself. As the apostle Paul wrote, "All nature groans in its need for salvation, and to be put right with God"—to become again what God saw when God looked at creation and said, "It is good." The psalmist realized this. The psalmist realized he needed not some thing but some One. The psalmist realized the right question was not where, but who. Once he got the question right, the right answer fell into place instantly.
My help comes from the LORD
who made heaven and earth.
The psalmist is not looking to creation for help. The psalmist realizes he must look to the Creator who stands behind the creation—who made the mountains.
OK; so we've asked the right question. And we've got the right answer. Our helper is not some place. Our helper is some One. "My help comes from the LORD." Now we're ready for question number 2. What is "help?" We need to realize that our questions for help come out of our own anxiety and neediness. Hope and assurance mean little where no anxiety exists.
The psalmist is looking for help. He wouldn't be looking for help unless he was anxious about some situation in his life. The question—the second question—then is personal and about the psalmist himself. The psalmist is not asking just for some generalized sort of help that has to do with all mankind. He's looking for a particular help for a particular situation in his life. All of our helping questions probably start out this way—they are about us. But even this question must lead us to the same answer as the first question did.
Again, hope and help mean little where no anxiety exists. Basically what this is saying is that we, as human beings, are full of anxiety. Our anxiety takes many forms. The psalmist identifies 5 or 6 forms of human anxiety, for when we need help from God.
We've already answered the basic question: from whom does our help come. The next two questions are: 1) what do we need help for? (our anxieties); and, 2) what form will that help take?
The first form of anxiety revolves around the question (see, I'm full of questions this morning—but you have to ask them): What am I here for? Do I have a purpose? Is that purpose for we alone to decide, or is there something larger going on in this human life?
We spin off all kinds of anxiety—usually our whole lives—all around those questions. To that anxiety, the Lord answers in this psalm, "My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth." Pay attention to the word "made." It can be translated a lot of different ways. One way is to use the word "appoint." " LORD appointed heaven and earth."
I like that, because the Hebrew word, in all its nuances, has intentionality behind it. God intentionally made heaven and earth. If that is so, God intentionally made each of us as well. God had an idea, a purpose, an intention for our making. That is a powerful remedy for the anxiety we have, wondering if we have a purpose, or a reason for why we are here.
The second form of anxiety has to do with wondering if our foundations are strong: "He will not let your foot be moved." The image behind this word has to do with a pole that is stuck in the ground. Think of a fence post. If you've had to dig holes for fence posts, you know how deep they have to be, to be sturdy enough to stay stable. When an 800 pound steer comes to rub up against it, is the post deep enough to not move or waiver?
That's the image. So, the anxiety demonstrated by this image has to do with the question, "Can I hold up? Can I withstand the push and shove of life? Can I keep upright when life is hardest? Am I buried deep enough in the LORD, so that I have the confidence to say, 'Bring it on! I am buried deep enough in the LORD that I know I can't be moved! I will not be moved!!'"
The third anxiety comes from our wondering sometimes, if God is listening. Is God attentive? we might ask. Is God off asleep somewhere?
In the movie, The Reivers, based on William Faulkner's novel, the grandpa is going on a trip. Just as he is boarding the train, he turned to his 12 year old grandson and says, "Your pa tells me you're afraid of the dark."
The boys says, "Yes, sir," back to grandpa.
"Well don't you worry, boy," grandpa says. "The Lord's up all night."
That's what the psalmist tells us—"…he who keeps you will not slumber." The Lord is watching over you, even when you are asleep.
The fourth anxiety has to do with our fear of the evil in the world—the kind of evil that only takes away from us. It peels us back, layer-by-layer, like an onion, until we feel there's nothing left of us.
Another way to translate this word, evil, is, "exceedingly great grief." This kind of evil wants to keep us in such a state of grief, because of great loss, so that we never get out of that hole.
I've been in Kansas City the past couple of days with Ryan and Amanda. Last Sunday, Ryan was going to the donut shop. He opened the front door and their dog, Roux, ran out, and took off down the street. She got out on Pflumm Road, and a driver was speeding and not paying attention. He hit Roux with such force, it knocked the front bumper off. And didn't stop, but just kept going.
Ryan, chasing after, heard Roux "screaming", picked her broken body up and started running back to the house. Roux didn't last that long. Roux was a great dog. Everyone, every animal, she met was a friend. Her loss from our family causes us "exceedingly great grief" at this kind of evil. We have shed so many tears this week together. But it has been so amazing to see the little things that have happened that the LORD has kept us from evil—from going down the deep hole of grief and evil.
Lastly, the anxiety the psalmist deals with, that most of us have questions about, is the future. More particularly, eternity or eternal life. The Jewish people really didn't have an idea or belief in eternal life. This word, at the end of the psalm, the word "forevermore" literally means, "as long as it takes." If that means forever, so be it. The LORD has promised to be with us into our futures, as long as it takes. Even if that means forever.
Now, there's one word throughout the psalm that encapsulates everything I've said. (Put the psalm back up on the screen.) this word occurs six times, a way the psalmist was saying, "Notice this word!" Can you see which word it is? (Keep) This is a great word in the psalmist's Hebrew language.
The word, keep, literally means to build a hedge around. But not just any hedge. A hedge made of thorny bushes. In all these anxieties we spin off, the LORD is "keeping" us. That is, building a thorny hedge around us, to protect us, to keep us safe from intrusion, even from ourselves and our own anxieties. Our anxiety isn't going to be able to get at us, nor our fears, and they're going to get all bloody trying.
As you go out into each day, imagine the thorny hedge God has grown around you to protect you and KEEP you safe.
Psalm 121
Albert Einstein once said: (up on screen)
If I had an hour to solve a problem and my life depended on the solution, I would spend the first 55 minutes to determine the proper question to ask; for once I know the proper question, I could solve the problem in less than five minutes.
I want you to apply Einstein's thinking in this quote and tell me how it applies, exactly to the opening two verses of Psalm 121.
I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From where does my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.
Ready. Go. (Discuss to see if anyone gets it.)
The psalmist is struggling with the proper question in the opening of his psalm. The clue is in the first two verses. The first question he asks is, "From where does my help come?" He asks the question as he is eyeing the hills around Jerusalem. Those huge, strong mountains. The most famous mountain was the Mount of Olives which stood about 300 feet higher than the Temple Mount, upon which Jerusalem stood, and over 100 feet higher than any part of the city. On the north side of the city stood the awesome Mizpeh of Benjamin. There was also Gibeon and Ramah and the ridge near Bethlehem in the distant east.
These mountains symbolized strength and permanence. But even that kind of durability and constancy can't provide the "help" that the psalmist needs. You can't rely on something for salvation that needs salvation itself. As the apostle Paul wrote, "All nature groans in its need for salvation, and to be put right with God"—to become again what God saw when God looked at creation and said, "It is good." The psalmist realized this. The psalmist realized he needed not some thing but some One. The psalmist realized the right question was not where, but who. Once he got the question right, the right answer fell into place instantly.
My help comes from the LORD
who made heaven and earth.
The psalmist is not looking to creation for help. The psalmist realizes he must look to the Creator who stands behind the creation—who made the mountains.
OK; so we've asked the right question. And we've got the right answer. Our helper is not some place. Our helper is some One. "My help comes from the LORD." Now we're ready for question number 2. What is "help?" We need to realize that our questions for help come out of our own anxiety and neediness. Hope and assurance mean little where no anxiety exists.
The psalmist is looking for help. He wouldn't be looking for help unless he was anxious about some situation in his life. The question—the second question—then is personal and about the psalmist himself. The psalmist is not asking just for some generalized sort of help that has to do with all mankind. He's looking for a particular help for a particular situation in his life. All of our helping questions probably start out this way—they are about us. But even this question must lead us to the same answer as the first question did.
Again, hope and help mean little where no anxiety exists. Basically what this is saying is that we, as human beings, are full of anxiety. Our anxiety takes many forms. The psalmist identifies 5 or 6 forms of human anxiety, for when we need help from God.
We've already answered the basic question: from whom does our help come. The next two questions are: 1) what do we need help for? (our anxieties); and, 2) what form will that help take?
The first form of anxiety revolves around the question (see, I'm full of questions this morning—but you have to ask them): What am I here for? Do I have a purpose? Is that purpose for we alone to decide, or is there something larger going on in this human life?
We spin off all kinds of anxiety—usually our whole lives—all around those questions. To that anxiety, the Lord answers in this psalm, "My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth." Pay attention to the word "made." It can be translated a lot of different ways. One way is to use the word "appoint." " LORD appointed heaven and earth."
I like that, because the Hebrew word, in all its nuances, has intentionality behind it. God intentionally made heaven and earth. If that is so, God intentionally made each of us as well. God had an idea, a purpose, an intention for our making. That is a powerful remedy for the anxiety we have, wondering if we have a purpose, or a reason for why we are here.
The second form of anxiety has to do with wondering if our foundations are strong: "He will not let your foot be moved." The image behind this word has to do with a pole that is stuck in the ground. Think of a fence post. If you've had to dig holes for fence posts, you know how deep they have to be, to be sturdy enough to stay stable. When an 800 pound steer comes to rub up against it, is the post deep enough to not move or waiver?
That's the image. So, the anxiety demonstrated by this image has to do with the question, "Can I hold up? Can I withstand the push and shove of life? Can I keep upright when life is hardest? Am I buried deep enough in the LORD, so that I have the confidence to say, 'Bring it on! I am buried deep enough in the LORD that I know I can't be moved! I will not be moved!!'"
The third anxiety comes from our wondering sometimes, if God is listening. Is God attentive? we might ask. Is God off asleep somewhere?
In the movie, The Reivers, based on William Faulkner's novel, the grandpa is going on a trip. Just as he is boarding the train, he turned to his 12 year old grandson and says, "Your pa tells me you're afraid of the dark."
The boys says, "Yes, sir," back to grandpa.
"Well don't you worry, boy," grandpa says. "The Lord's up all night."
That's what the psalmist tells us—"…he who keeps you will not slumber." The Lord is watching over you, even when you are asleep.
The fourth anxiety has to do with our fear of the evil in the world—the kind of evil that only takes away from us. It peels us back, layer-by-layer, like an onion, until we feel there's nothing left of us.
Another way to translate this word, evil, is, "exceedingly great grief." This kind of evil wants to keep us in such a state of grief, because of great loss, so that we never get out of that hole.
I've been in Kansas City the past couple of days with Ryan and Amanda. Last Sunday, Ryan was going to the donut shop. He opened the front door and their dog, Roux, ran out, and took off down the street. She got out on Pflumm Road, and a driver was speeding and not paying attention. He hit Roux with such force, it knocked the front bumper off. And didn't stop, but just kept going.
Ryan, chasing after, heard Roux "screaming", picked her broken body up and started running back to the house. Roux didn't last that long. Roux was a great dog. Everyone, every animal, she met was a friend. Her loss from our family causes us "exceedingly great grief" at this kind of evil. We have shed so many tears this week together. But it has been so amazing to see the little things that have happened that the LORD has kept us from evil—from going down the deep hole of grief and evil.
Lastly, the anxiety the psalmist deals with, that most of us have questions about, is the future. More particularly, eternity or eternal life. The Jewish people really didn't have an idea or belief in eternal life. This word, at the end of the psalm, the word "forevermore" literally means, "as long as it takes." If that means forever, so be it. The LORD has promised to be with us into our futures, as long as it takes. Even if that means forever.
Now, there's one word throughout the psalm that encapsulates everything I've said. (Put the psalm back up on the screen.) this word occurs six times, a way the psalmist was saying, "Notice this word!" Can you see which word it is? (Keep) This is a great word in the psalmist's Hebrew language.
The word, keep, literally means to build a hedge around. But not just any hedge. A hedge made of thorny bushes. In all these anxieties we spin off, the LORD is "keeping" us. That is, building a thorny hedge around us, to protect us, to keep us safe from intrusion, even from ourselves and our own anxieties. Our anxiety isn't going to be able to get at us, nor our fears, and they're going to get all bloody trying.
As you go out into each day, imagine the thorny hedge God has grown around you to protect you and KEEP you safe.
Monday, March 6, 2017
Saying, "I'm Sorry"
"Saying, 'I'm Sorry'"
Psalm 32
There are a couple of people who have hurt me deeply—hurt my kids as well. (I confess, my blood pressure just went up a couple of notches having made that statement.) I just have one wish. I wish they'd look me in the eye some day and say, "I'm sorry." That's all. A heartfelt, "I'm sorry." They have never spoken those two words to me (or my kids that I know of.) They've had plenty of years to do so. But so far, nothing.
That's all it would take! I've forgiven each of these individuals. I think. Am I wrong in wanting to hear them say, "I'm sorry"? I think all my memories surrounding these people would become unweighted, and I would feel a long-desired lightness. It's hard, because one of the people doesn't think they have anything to be sorry about. So it will probably never happen.
(Pause) Then I wonder if there are people I need to say "I'm sorry" too. (There's a journaling list you could make: All the people to which you need to say, "I'm sorry." And then do it, as best and as wisely as you can.)
There is One who should be at the top of all our lists. One whom we have wronged, ignored, betrayed. One we've treated with indifference. One we've said Yes to, but then lived out a No. Of course, it is God.
That is what this Psalm is about—saying "I'm sorry" to God, not to each other. There certainly is a lot of both that needs to happen. But God first. Because we have hurt God deeply. There are times when our lives have gone badly, and we assume by no fault of our own. Because things went so badly, or because we felt God was in charge of this mess we call the world, that God therefore owes US an apology. That God needs to look us in the eye and offer a heartfelt apology for allowing some drunk driver to T-bone our car; or allow us to get bone cancer; or allow our parent to get Alzheimer's and forget who we are; or allow a tornado to blow through a town flattening it. And so forth and so forth.
Maybe that's one of the things we need to say "I'm sorry" for to God—blaming God for every random bad thing that befalls humanity, especially when we are those individual humans stuff happens to. Maybe we need to say, "I'm sorry" to God, because God is such an easy target to blame for all the bad stuff.
That's going to be your journaling assignment between now and next Sunday: to make a list of all the reasons you should be sorry to God. Like we do in our relationships, don't you think God is waiting, thinking to God's self, "I wish they'd just say, 'I'm sorry.'"
But it's not just a matter of saying, "I'm sorry." It's also what you are sorry about, exactly. You can say to God, "I just want to, generally, say I'm sorry for the stuff I do, the way I think, and all that. OK, we good?" God is left thinking, "This guy doesn't have a clue. He just wants to get it done and over with, while at the same time have no personal detailed understanding of what he's doing."
You have to start here. You have to know what, exactly, you are sorry about, and you have to tell God all about it. If you don't start here, you're a goner. That's what the Psalmist came to realize.
When I kept it all inside,
my bones turned to powder,
my words became daylong groans.
The pressure never let up;
all the juices of my life dried up. (MSG)
What's going on in the inside of each of us has an effect on the outside of us. What we look like, how we carry ourselves, our tone of voice, can all be visible signs of our inability to get things right with God. The first thing you have to do to get right with God is say, "I'm sorry."
Like I mentioned earlier, we do a lot of blaming God for our mishandled lives, for accidents of life, etc. In other cases, we may blame others. It's my spouses fault for me feeling like my bones have turned to powder. It's my jobs fault for all the groaning I do. It's the economy's fault for all the pressure I'm feeling. It's this darn weather's fault for me feeling like all the juices of my life are drying up.
Blaming is just part of the problem. The biggest part of the problem, according to the psalmist, is that we hold it all inside. We don't do anything with all the hurt and pain we are feeling. We just keep it all inside. And the thing that we are keeping inside is our inability or unwillingness to take responsibility for our fractured lives, and tell others we are sorry. We are sorry for how we let our own brokenness brake others, and then fail to say, "I'm sorry" for letting our brokenness get out of control.
There's only one way to deal with all this built up pressure from our inability to say to God, "I'm sorry." Let it all out. In a couple of places in the psalm, God praises the psalmist for telling his sins to God.
In verse one, God says to the psalmist:
“You told me your sins,
without trying to hide them,
and now I forgive you.”
The phrase, "…without trying to hide them…" has to do with being clothed. What God is saying to the psalmist is, "You didn't put on some kind of clothes to try and give a false impression about what you're really hiding underneath. The word the psalmist uses literally means to dress different in order to deceive. So God is praising the psalmist for not trying to hide behind anything, but instead told the truth about his sins, and said he was sorry to God. Just put it out there and take your lumps. Instead of lumps, God gave forgiveness.
In a similar way, at a different place in the psalm, the psalmist laid everything out on the table and said his, "I'm sorry's" to God:
So I confessed my sins
and told them all to you.
I said, “I’ll tell the Lord
each one of my sins.”
Then you forgave me
and took away my guilt. (CEV)
What the psalmist discovered was that there was only one way to be able to stand before God and feel totally cleansed. It's wasn't going to be by deceit, or rationalizations, or excuses, or subterfuge. The only way to experience the freeing forgiveness of God is to be forgiven by God and have God totally wash your guilt away. And the only way to get to that kind of cleansing is telling the Lord "each one of your sins" and at the same time telling God you are so sorry for it all. That's where each of us has to start.
And this is a constant process—this saying, "I'm sorry" to God. You have to be able to exercise control in your life somehow, so that you can always be under the forgiveness of God. The psalmist expresses this in verse 9:
Be not like a horse or a mule, without understanding,
which must be curbed with bit and bridle,
or it will not stay near you.
There are two kinds of control that we can choose in our relationship with God. The first is to have understanding. It's an internal kind of of control. You are able to understand that the best way to be before God is confess everything to God, and tell God how sorry you are. That's an internal way of control. God then rewards that person with discernment, so that in all life situations you will know the way to go, and not choose the ways that make you come back, time after time, stand before God and offer up your, "I'm sorry."
How many of you have played the game pictured on the front of the bulletin. Me, too. I played it all the time with my kids. Why is the game called, "Sorry"? (So, is it called "Sorry" because you accidentally forced someone else's game piece back to start, or because you intentionally sent an opponent's game piece back to start? It makes a difference, doesn't it.)
I tell you the truth, when I was looking for pictures of the game box for the bulletin cover, I never knew there was a subtitle to the game. The box to our game got obliterated in a months time and I threw it away. I never saw the subtitle which, as you can see, reads, "The game of sweet revenge!" How can a game called "Sorry" have a subtitle like that!? How can you say, "Sorry" while you are in the midst of getting "sweet revenge"? Unless you are being highly sarcastic!
Or, unless you have no understanding and discernment. Unless you play out your life really never being sorry because you are more concerned with getting back at people, or getting under their skin. Unless you have no inner control and discernment about how to avoid those situations where you have to come groveling back and say, "I'm sorry."
The external control is, as the psalmist describes, like being a horse or mule that needs to have a bit and bridle. I don't know about you, but having some kind of symbolic bit constantly in my mouth, tied to the bridle reins where God has to pull on this thing in your mouth to force you where you should go—that does not sound like the best way to be the person of God. That God has to make you be the person God wants you to be by force because you can't be trusted to understand and act from within yourself.
"Look," the psalmist says at the end of the psalm. "Many are the sorrows of the wicked…" That is, based on the what the psalm is about, it's the people who can't say, "I'm sorry," who are the the most sour about about life, who are saddest about the way their lives are turning out, who begin to wake up and see that their sarcastic sorry-saying, is dragging them more and more into wickedness.
But, by contrast, God's "steadfast love" (that is, God's total forgiveness) surrounds those who have the wisdom to simply tell God, "I'm sorry." Gladness and joy are what await the people who can humbly face God and list out all that they are sorry for, so God can lovingly forgive each of them.
Psalm 32
There are a couple of people who have hurt me deeply—hurt my kids as well. (I confess, my blood pressure just went up a couple of notches having made that statement.) I just have one wish. I wish they'd look me in the eye some day and say, "I'm sorry." That's all. A heartfelt, "I'm sorry." They have never spoken those two words to me (or my kids that I know of.) They've had plenty of years to do so. But so far, nothing.
That's all it would take! I've forgiven each of these individuals. I think. Am I wrong in wanting to hear them say, "I'm sorry"? I think all my memories surrounding these people would become unweighted, and I would feel a long-desired lightness. It's hard, because one of the people doesn't think they have anything to be sorry about. So it will probably never happen.
(Pause) Then I wonder if there are people I need to say "I'm sorry" too. (There's a journaling list you could make: All the people to which you need to say, "I'm sorry." And then do it, as best and as wisely as you can.)
There is One who should be at the top of all our lists. One whom we have wronged, ignored, betrayed. One we've treated with indifference. One we've said Yes to, but then lived out a No. Of course, it is God.
That is what this Psalm is about—saying "I'm sorry" to God, not to each other. There certainly is a lot of both that needs to happen. But God first. Because we have hurt God deeply. There are times when our lives have gone badly, and we assume by no fault of our own. Because things went so badly, or because we felt God was in charge of this mess we call the world, that God therefore owes US an apology. That God needs to look us in the eye and offer a heartfelt apology for allowing some drunk driver to T-bone our car; or allow us to get bone cancer; or allow our parent to get Alzheimer's and forget who we are; or allow a tornado to blow through a town flattening it. And so forth and so forth.
Maybe that's one of the things we need to say "I'm sorry" for to God—blaming God for every random bad thing that befalls humanity, especially when we are those individual humans stuff happens to. Maybe we need to say, "I'm sorry" to God, because God is such an easy target to blame for all the bad stuff.
That's going to be your journaling assignment between now and next Sunday: to make a list of all the reasons you should be sorry to God. Like we do in our relationships, don't you think God is waiting, thinking to God's self, "I wish they'd just say, 'I'm sorry.'"
But it's not just a matter of saying, "I'm sorry." It's also what you are sorry about, exactly. You can say to God, "I just want to, generally, say I'm sorry for the stuff I do, the way I think, and all that. OK, we good?" God is left thinking, "This guy doesn't have a clue. He just wants to get it done and over with, while at the same time have no personal detailed understanding of what he's doing."
You have to start here. You have to know what, exactly, you are sorry about, and you have to tell God all about it. If you don't start here, you're a goner. That's what the Psalmist came to realize.
When I kept it all inside,
my bones turned to powder,
my words became daylong groans.
The pressure never let up;
all the juices of my life dried up. (MSG)
What's going on in the inside of each of us has an effect on the outside of us. What we look like, how we carry ourselves, our tone of voice, can all be visible signs of our inability to get things right with God. The first thing you have to do to get right with God is say, "I'm sorry."
Like I mentioned earlier, we do a lot of blaming God for our mishandled lives, for accidents of life, etc. In other cases, we may blame others. It's my spouses fault for me feeling like my bones have turned to powder. It's my jobs fault for all the groaning I do. It's the economy's fault for all the pressure I'm feeling. It's this darn weather's fault for me feeling like all the juices of my life are drying up.
Blaming is just part of the problem. The biggest part of the problem, according to the psalmist, is that we hold it all inside. We don't do anything with all the hurt and pain we are feeling. We just keep it all inside. And the thing that we are keeping inside is our inability or unwillingness to take responsibility for our fractured lives, and tell others we are sorry. We are sorry for how we let our own brokenness brake others, and then fail to say, "I'm sorry" for letting our brokenness get out of control.
There's only one way to deal with all this built up pressure from our inability to say to God, "I'm sorry." Let it all out. In a couple of places in the psalm, God praises the psalmist for telling his sins to God.
In verse one, God says to the psalmist:
“You told me your sins,
without trying to hide them,
and now I forgive you.”
The phrase, "…without trying to hide them…" has to do with being clothed. What God is saying to the psalmist is, "You didn't put on some kind of clothes to try and give a false impression about what you're really hiding underneath. The word the psalmist uses literally means to dress different in order to deceive. So God is praising the psalmist for not trying to hide behind anything, but instead told the truth about his sins, and said he was sorry to God. Just put it out there and take your lumps. Instead of lumps, God gave forgiveness.
In a similar way, at a different place in the psalm, the psalmist laid everything out on the table and said his, "I'm sorry's" to God:
So I confessed my sins
and told them all to you.
I said, “I’ll tell the Lord
each one of my sins.”
Then you forgave me
and took away my guilt. (CEV)
What the psalmist discovered was that there was only one way to be able to stand before God and feel totally cleansed. It's wasn't going to be by deceit, or rationalizations, or excuses, or subterfuge. The only way to experience the freeing forgiveness of God is to be forgiven by God and have God totally wash your guilt away. And the only way to get to that kind of cleansing is telling the Lord "each one of your sins" and at the same time telling God you are so sorry for it all. That's where each of us has to start.
And this is a constant process—this saying, "I'm sorry" to God. You have to be able to exercise control in your life somehow, so that you can always be under the forgiveness of God. The psalmist expresses this in verse 9:
Be not like a horse or a mule, without understanding,
which must be curbed with bit and bridle,
or it will not stay near you.
There are two kinds of control that we can choose in our relationship with God. The first is to have understanding. It's an internal kind of of control. You are able to understand that the best way to be before God is confess everything to God, and tell God how sorry you are. That's an internal way of control. God then rewards that person with discernment, so that in all life situations you will know the way to go, and not choose the ways that make you come back, time after time, stand before God and offer up your, "I'm sorry."
How many of you have played the game pictured on the front of the bulletin. Me, too. I played it all the time with my kids. Why is the game called, "Sorry"? (So, is it called "Sorry" because you accidentally forced someone else's game piece back to start, or because you intentionally sent an opponent's game piece back to start? It makes a difference, doesn't it.)
I tell you the truth, when I was looking for pictures of the game box for the bulletin cover, I never knew there was a subtitle to the game. The box to our game got obliterated in a months time and I threw it away. I never saw the subtitle which, as you can see, reads, "The game of sweet revenge!" How can a game called "Sorry" have a subtitle like that!? How can you say, "Sorry" while you are in the midst of getting "sweet revenge"? Unless you are being highly sarcastic!
Or, unless you have no understanding and discernment. Unless you play out your life really never being sorry because you are more concerned with getting back at people, or getting under their skin. Unless you have no inner control and discernment about how to avoid those situations where you have to come groveling back and say, "I'm sorry."
The external control is, as the psalmist describes, like being a horse or mule that needs to have a bit and bridle. I don't know about you, but having some kind of symbolic bit constantly in my mouth, tied to the bridle reins where God has to pull on this thing in your mouth to force you where you should go—that does not sound like the best way to be the person of God. That God has to make you be the person God wants you to be by force because you can't be trusted to understand and act from within yourself.
"Look," the psalmist says at the end of the psalm. "Many are the sorrows of the wicked…" That is, based on the what the psalm is about, it's the people who can't say, "I'm sorry," who are the the most sour about about life, who are saddest about the way their lives are turning out, who begin to wake up and see that their sarcastic sorry-saying, is dragging them more and more into wickedness.
But, by contrast, God's "steadfast love" (that is, God's total forgiveness) surrounds those who have the wisdom to simply tell God, "I'm sorry." Gladness and joy are what await the people who can humbly face God and list out all that they are sorry for, so God can lovingly forgive each of them.
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