psalm 68

God springs into action.
His enemies scatter;
his adversaries run from him.
As smoke is driven away by the wind, so you drive them away.
As wax melts before fire,
so the wicked are destroyed before God.
But the godly are happy;
they rejoice before God
and are overcome with joy.

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Psalms 68:1-3, NET

The Goliath you’re facing day in and day out, the one that’s been harassing and intimidating you, rattling your cage and kicking sand in your face? That devil is still ‘God’s devil.’ (Martin Luther)

To the army of Israel, Goliath looked huge from a far distance, but David discovered that he was just a scalp on his belt up close. Even the champion’s arsenal fit quite nicely on David’s mantle.

Psalm 68 is a victory psalm. It’s ten stanzas of battle hymns and rah-rah emotion. The writer, presumed to be David, is electrified by God’s feats on the field of battle. He recalls how the ark once went out with the armies of Israel and every time the enemy was soundly defeated. Now he’s bringing the ark home.

The Bible tells us God is our rear guard. A soldier might say he has our “six.” He goes before us. He covers us. Beneath are his everlasting arms holding us up. Everywhere you look God is … there.

he fights for you

Maybe the devil is having his way in your life. It seems so. The preponderance of evidence says so. But take heart, believer; your Lord, the God of the angel armies, is orchestrating his doom.

My young godson, Maddox, wants to know if the devil is stronger than we are. With all the principalities and powers and rulers of darkness at his disposal, we are not a match for him in ourselves. But he’s not greater and stronger than our God. When we trust the God of heaven, and take our strength from him, the devil is no match for us!

You are the apple of God’s eye (Deut 32:9-10; Psa 17:8), a stone on his breastplate; your name is engraved on his palm (Isa 49:16). As a benefactor of the blessing of Abraham, the Lord God Almighty is your shield and reward.

Early in our ministry I did a lot of singing. A few of you know that Sandy and I recorded three albums of music and I wrote a few of the songs. One of them, Encourage Yourself in the Lord, is based on 1 Sam 30:6. Years ago I was blessed to share it in a conference where Joni Earekson Tada was speaking.

He fights for you

He lifts up the fallen

And he cares for you

He meets all your needs

He wants you to rest in his promises

And yearns for you

To trust and obey

So encourage yourself in the Lord, my friend

Encourage yourself in the Lord!

There’s a whole story about how the sound guy didn’t cue the accompaniment track correctly and started it in the middle of the song. I was completely lost, humiliated, and ready to stone the sound guy. But I digress.

The point is God fights for you when things happening to you are out of your control. The devil will have his “Pyrrhic” victories here and there; that’s not in dispute. The truth of it is better than the shame of it. God is working even your defeats into triumphs and your failures into glories.

if the devil’s been defeated, why am I getting beat up?

Good question, that. Goliath, vanquished forever, is still out here intimidating and spewing curses on the Church. He’s defeated, yes, but still he roars.

What he cannot do is unsave you. He can lie to you but he can’t lie to Jesus. He can’t separate you from the love of God. He can boast but he can’t back it up. He can beat you today but he can’t defeat you ultimately. He isn’t more powerful than the God who is in you.

He’s been de-fanged and de-clawed. Neutered. The Christ of the Cross has crushed his head. Whatever you’re facing, God stands between you and it. At times it’s difficult to see the Lord when there’s nothing but smoke and blackness of night, but he’s there all right, an imposing pillar of fire. The enemy doesn’t have a snowball’s chance with God on your side.

The devil is still God’s devil. You think he’s running amuck in your life when he’s really on a leash held by Christ. He can’t do a thing to you without the Almighty’s permission. The enemy intends evil, but your Savior Lord intends good.

The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.

Romans 16:20, CEB

The God of the angel armies rides on the clouds. Jesus walks on the waves, the Spirit follows with resurrection power. Believe me, nothing can overcome you. You are safe. But not only safe; in Christ, you are victorious. God’s plan is for you to be overcome…with joy.

I pray you are overcome today.

Selah, beloved.

emmaus or bust

The Road to Emmaus, artwork by Daniel Bonnell

C. S. Lewis identified many of us as “ordinary privates in the huge army of the bereaved, slogging along and making the best of a bad job.”

Today is a struggle job for me. I went through my prayers this morning with monotone indifference. The reading of the Word was like a dried up fountain. I’m very close to tears and want very much to be left alone.

Very little is working out the way Sandy and I hoped (expected?) 333 days ago. I am slogging through sludge in heavy boots and an overfilled backpack. If I didn’t feel the need to preserve an iota of dignity I’d be tempted to throw my head back and scream. I’ll restrain myself.

When I left the house this morning I said barely ten words to Sandy, telling her, “Headed to the library. I love you.” How I longed for some quiet and introspection. I need to process; I need to think; I need to write.

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Before heading out I grabbed the recent Plough Quarterly that arrived in yesterday’s mail and have it open before me now. The theme for the issue is, “PAIN & PASSION.” What a coincidence.

One of the opening articles features a Dominican order of Sisters who offer palliative care to dying patients in NYC. Here’s what got me: the older Sisters advise the newbies that (1) their ministry is just that; it requires they first attend to their own souls in Christ before they can love and offer mercy to their patients. And, (2), never forget that all their patients are terminal; the Sisters are there to lovingly prepare them for the next world.

Those same pieces of advice will do good for me today, if I pay heed. I can’t rise above this unless I receive the love of Jesus and trust him, first and foremost; and next I must resign to the dictum, once again, that I am not made for this world.

A page over, a pastor who lost his 22-year old to an aggressive form of lymphoma cancer wrote about his desperate search for solace against the backdrop of stupefying loss:

It was a tremendous relief to realize that we [he and his wife] are not strong people; we are plain, ordinary people. And if we need to cry, then cry. If we need to grieve, then grieve. Do it hard and deeply, and then move on.

Randall Gauger, In Search of Solace

That’s good counsel. I think I’ll cry.

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I’ve spent some time this week with three people: N. T. Wright and a pair of disgruntled disciples on the road away from Jerusalem. Wright captures their mood with,

“They had been traveling up a road they thought was leading to freedom, and it turned out to be a cul-de-sac.”

N. T. Wright, The Challenge of Jesus

The thing is, the Emmaus Road disciples were having their debate in the early evening hours of Easter! They’d heard rumors about a Missing Body and certain women having visions, but instead of staying back and investigating they slogged their way home.

Jesus had already risen. The apex of redemptive history has just happened. The Blessed Hope of Mankind is alive! And they are grousing about how nothing has worked out the way it was promised.

About here is where I need to do some Soul Talk. I don’t mind that you’re here, but if you’ll excuse me: Soul, why are you downcast? Why are you in turmoil? Has Jesus not Risen?

Bring me your sorrow, and watch for the sunrise of the resurrection. Yes, truly there comes always a resurrection – a morning when hope is reborn and life finds new beginning. Wait for it as tulip bulbs anticipate the spring. The rarest blooms are enhanced by the coldness of winter…Your God is your maker. He is your defender. And He is mighty to save. Yes, He is not only mighty to save from sin, but He is mighty to save from despair, from sorrow, from disappointment, from regret, from remorse, from self-castigation, and from the hot, blinding tears of rebellion against fateful circumstances.

Francis J. Roberts, Come Away, My Beloved

These two, perhaps husband and wife (I think so), mourned the loss of hope. But, just then, a Man joined them in their walk of sorrow. Jesus was a Stranger to them but he gave both something they could carry the rest of their way home. The Resurrected One granted them their own resurrection. Did not our hearts burn within us?

I’m on the struggle bus today but I’ll be fine. My heart will live to burn again another day. Today I cry; tonight I’ll still be His. He’s resurrected my tired bones before and he’ll do it 10,000 more times before I get home. What I have is terminal; what he has is eternal.

Amen.

though there’s pain in the offering

Have you ever seen someone in pain who’s not handling it well? I know you have and I have too. It’s not pretty is it? They can become bitter. Sometimes they get angry and strike. For many, pain becomes their identity.

Last time I posted I shared from the life of Joseph. I’m tempted to do the same with this post because so much of his story fits inside this theme. In his stead I’ll share a brief glimpse into his father, Jacob.

There was a day in his life when a blood-soaked garment was brought to him by his sons. “He’s gone, Dad. Joseph’s dead, mauled by a lion.” Jacob was inconsolable.

Jacob knew pain. Think back to his wedding night. Recall the entire saga of Esau? Does his divinely dislocated hip ring any bells? Consider the twenty hard years of labor in Paddan-aram (interestingly, the verb associated with the place suggests this was where Jacob was ‘ransomed’; a necessary length of time for Old Jacob to meet New Jacob).

Because of these things, perhaps, Jacob had a fixation with death and trouble. He carried his pain with him into every season and well inside his old age. There’s another grievous pain he bore but I’ll get to that if time permits.

Any of those things would cause many a man or woman to go running for the hills. God won’t give you more than you can bear?

Please.

Say that to Jacob with a straight face.

The worst of times are not the last of times.

— John Piper

lament

Lament is one of those words that sounds too religious for us regular folk. But we cannot move forward without it. This is why so many get stuck in the dry docks of dismay.

Jacob lost 22 years of his life as the consequence of his sons’ great sins against Joseph, Tamar, and the men of Shechem. He is often seen sitting with his grief and unhealthy preoccupation with death.*

*Gen 37:35; 42:36; 42:38: 44:22, 27-29; 30-31; 45:28; 46:31

One of my regrets about life after my accident is that I didn’t take necessary time to grieve all that was taken from me. In the ensuing years I was often asked “Do you get bitter?” I replied, “No, never once.” And that was the truth.

Did I lament my loss? I did…eventually. TBH, I still lament. Something is wrong with this picture. My disability is not part of the new creation. Jesus wept at Lazarus’ tomb because it didn’t…belong. It stinks. It hurts. How long, O God?

I love how lament is described by an Anglican priest:

Lament is what happens when the promises of God collide with the reality of our lives, and we express that collision and call on God to harmonise the two.

— Revd Dr. Alastair McKay, St. Martin-in-the-field

The thing about lament, biblically understood, is that it always — always — leads to praise. To lament is to actively pursue God in the midst of your sorrow. It may be a long time coming but you eventually get there. Jacob spent 22 years locked inside his bereavement. Would he recover?

I’m a big fan of the minor key and the book of Job. My friends know how much I love a gloomy, overcast day. Barry Manilow’s saddest ballads were my favorite songs in high school and college. Don’t hate me, I’m still fragile about that.

I’ve been through some stuff in my life, but I don’t ever recall a time when I’ve just wanted to pack it all in and jump ship. I scrolled through my twitter feed the other day and came across this share from a pastor I found quite enlightening:

That’s good. And painfully true.

Jacob is a case study in not dealing well with your hurt. You can’t tell me that his solemnity and despair didn’t rub off on his children. I imagine Judah or Simeon wondered aloud from time to time if they’d ever be more than a painful burr in their dad’s soul. Perhaps Reuben felt the scorn of being Leah’s son and that was all he could ever bring to the table.

But then there was a famine in the land. (Pay close attention to Gen 43:14)

It changed everything.

lessons learned

There came a day when Jacob got some news: his boy was alive! I’ve imagined how awesome it would be if I woke up tomorrow morning to see Graham at the foot of our bed! To realize it had all been a very bad dream. When I read of Jacob’s exhilaration, I feel that deep in my core.

Jacob had enjoyed Joseph for seventeen years in Hebron (Gen 37:2), and now he would get to enjoy Joseph for seventeen years in Egypt (Gen 47:28).

At 130 years of age Jacob made peace with his pain. In a long blessing over Joseph he invoked the name El Shaddai at the start and finished with Elohim at the close. Happy is the life that begins and ends with God!

Long before David called God his Faithful Shepherd, Jacob beat him to it. Jacob was the first person in Scripture to say that God “has been my shepherd all my life.” That sounds like a man at peace.

“I am about to die, BUT GOD…”

“But God.”

May this be your confession by his mercy and grace.

Allow me this one final splurge. Before you click away, I’d like to share the song whose lyric inspired the title of this post. Sandy chose this song as part of worship for Graham’s funeral. Yes, I said that. Funeral worship. We’ll see him again. Maybe not here, but when our lament has finished its course.

Amen.