elon


[4 minutes, 674 words]

No, not that Elon. Today’s meditation is about an Elon of the tribe of Zebulon, who was listed as one of Israel’s judges. All we know about him is that he judged for ten years and where he was buried.

Elon, who was from Zebulun, judged Israel after Ibzan. He judged Israel ten years. And when he died, he was buried in Aijalon in the land of Zebulun.

Judges 12:11-12

Two verses. That’s it.

No dramatic battles. No miraculous exploits. No lengthy narrative. We may surmise that, being buried in a Levite town, Elon was also a priest. Other than that, his life didn’t move any needles that we can see. Nothing heroic is mentioned and yet Elon served a vital role in the history of Israel. And because there is no mention of scandal, we can assume he did his job with integrity.

The church is filled with these kind of leaders. They are everywhere. We don’t really know much about them because their testimonies don’t show up in books, nor are their names dropped in conversations. They never see the big stage, don’t pastor big churches, and their sermons never go viral. They are, for all intents and purposes, unknown in their respective fields.

But not to God. He knows their names, and what they do, and how hard they struggle.

My February read is Pastor, Jesus Is Enough by Jeremy Writebol. The author takes the reader through the seven letters of Revelation, reminding us that they are, first and foremost, addressed to the pastors of those churches. Most of the letters do not flatter the pastors or their congregations.

Sandwiched between the dead church (Sardis) and the lukewarm church (Laodicea) was the only church whose pastor received Jesus’s glowing commendation.1 He served the church in Philadelphia admirably, even bravely, standing strong in the face of overwhelming opposition.2

Jesus told him, I know you only have a little bit of power in the place where you are ministering. It feels like you’re all alone. You feel inadequate and useless. I assure you, you are not. I picked you. I put you where you are because I want to do God-things through you.


“Jesus doesn’t love the pastor of the big church more than the one who has a smaller, less-well-known ministry. He doesn’t delight more in the international traveler and evangelist who speaks to millions than he does the guy who speaks to the same fifty people every Sunday. His affections aren’t attuned more to the brightest young stars in evangelicalism than they are to the unknown and forgotten pastors who labor faithfully in insignificant places.”

—Jeremy Writebol, Pastor, Jesus Is Enough


Hey you. Yes, you. This post is for you even if you’re not a pastor. God sees you. He sees you in that lonely place where you are faithfully serving the King in spite of your weakness, opposition from others, anonymity, thanklessness, and lack of reward. Nobody else may see what you’re doing and what you’re up against, but your Heavenly Father does.

Most of us will live “Elon lives.” We won’t make headlines. We won’t move any needles. Our follower count will look tame by any metric. But we matter by God’s. So we’ll keep calm and carry on. We’ll simply show up — day after day, year after year — faithfully doing the work God has placed before us. We’ll raise children, serve our neighbors, love our families, and quietly point others to God. And that matters.

Elon judged Israel for ten years. That was enough. Your quiet faithfulness is enough too.



Selah, beloved.

  1. Revelation 3:8 ↩︎
  2. Revelation 3:9 ↩︎

i am a green olive tree

[7 minutes]


But I am like a green olive tree in the house of God. I trust in the steadfast love of God forever and ever.

Psalm 52:8


David wrote this only one chapter removed from his confession to God when a broken, sinful man. The chapters aren’t chronological, of course, but their arrangement seems to be — for me at least — by design.

Looking back over the arc of our lives, we can dredge up seasons when we wondered if we’d ever get past our failures. In other seasons, we’ve known the inestimable joy of intimacy with God we never wanted to end. Hello sanctification.

In Psalm 51 David is the guilty man. In Psalm 52 he is gutted by the crimes of another man — Doeg the Edomite. Doeg brazenly murdered 85 innocent people in cold blood. The slaughtered were priests, together with their wives and children. Their crime? They gave David sanctuary when he was on the run from King Saul. David was beside himself with fury.

“How dare you, Doeg! You will face the wrath of a just God, you dog! You think you’re a big man, all high and mighty, plotting my demise. But it is you who will go down. Me? I’m a green olive tree in God’s house, big boy. You, on the other hand, are kindling for the lake of fire.”

No doubt David was reeling from the news of the priests of Nob and their families. It wasn’t enough for the vile Edomite to kill the priests, he massacred their families too. They died because they all stood with David!

Talk about survivor’s guilt.

selah

In the middle of this painful psalm is a Selah. It’s a strange place for a Selah, sure, but David tacks one on.


You love evil more than good, and lying more than speaking about what is right. Selah

(v3)


Selah.

Catch your breath.

Gather your wits.

Get quiet.

Be still.

John Andrew Bryant has battled mental illness his entire life. His brain never turns off; it is always noisy in there. His affliction is a daily surrender and his dependence upon God for the healing of his mind is evident in his words. John describes finding a “foothold” in those especially stormy times when his brain is firing in all directions.


“What I have in Christ is the simple, painful renunciation of the urges created by my brain, the ability to say no to desires and compulsions that will not just go away. I wish it was more. But that is all it’s been: a foothold in the storm of thought and feelings…that foothold, that boat, that kernel, is not a place where I do something to be okay. It is a place where I don’t. That patient, quiet understanding is the place where I stand with Christ and don’t do anything to make things right or win or be okay. It is the place where I don’t fix, the place where I don’t defend myself, the place where I don’t figure things out, and the place where I don’t know for sure. The place where it is somehow possible to not engage those compulsions. The place I stand with Christ and endure what it feels like to not do those things. The place where I’ve learned to stand with Christ by being quiet.”

A Quiet Mind To Suffer With, p17-18


That is David’s Selah here in the 52nd Psalm. He reminds himself with that Selah that however much evil swirls about him, he is not its victim. He must not surrender to it. Lady Macbeth told her husband to “screw his courage to the sticking place,” and this appears to be what David – albeit righteously – was telling himself to do.

I am tempted to substitute the name Jesus where I see a Selah in scripture. I don’t think it breaks any rules, personally.

My heart is broken. Jesus.

I’m hanging on by a thread. Jesus.

Lord, I don’t understand. Jesus.

My only hope is you. Jesus.

This too shall pass. Jesus.

Once upon a time, twelve men sat for an important gospel meal. The scene was humming with observable tension as it was the last Passover in which Jesus would take part. While he was speaking, John, we are told, leaned against his Messiah’s breast. Although the atmosphere was charged, the beloved disciple anchored himself to the Rock.

Think of Selah, then, as pressing into Jesus. Selah, where you don’t fix or defend or try to figure out. You listen. You wait. You trust. You are still.

Like a tree.

a green olive tree

David imagines himself in verse 8 as a tree, but not just any tree. He is God’s tree, a temple tree. He was a well-manicured olive tree, not some scrub tree out in the wild. His roots were resolutely screwed into the sticking place of holy soil.

David, consummate lover of nature, appreciated the beautiful trees in Jerusalem. Adorning the temple grounds, no doubt, were flowering olive trees whose aroma misted the air. He knew they provided the oil for worship in the holy place and said “I’m one of those trees.”

Before I’m anything, I’m a worshipper of God. The Lord made me to love him and enjoy him forever. Doegs and Sauls and Goliaths come and go, but I’m rooted in the faithfulness of God.

The thing about olive trees: they are capable of surviving the worst that life can dish out. There’s an olive tree in Crete that is close to 3,000 years old. Believe me, it’s seen some stuff. Paul was shipwrecked by a horrible storm that drove him into the sands of Crete in Acts 27. That tree is still producing olives today.

I’m one of those trees. I’m precious to God. He is invested in protecting me, so I will not be defeated by those who wish ill upon me. The times I’m living in will not get the best of me. I’m living in the Land of Selah.

Let that cruel dog Doeg and his ilk be who they are, they won’t affect me. They can choose evil but I will stay planted here in the garden of the Lord.

What are you going through right now, beloved? What’s got your goat? Who’s oppressing you? That hard thing in your life may be a person, it may be a condition, it may be a situation. Your hardship hurts even more because it’s out of your control and it’s not letting up. I get it.

Step back like David did and see the bigger picture. See a Land called Selah. Can you see it? Now look closer and see a City in that Land called Peace. Picture yourself there, planted in its soil, loved and cherished and protected by God. You may not think so, but you are thriving. It may feel like you’re losing, but God sees olives in you.

Let them cancel you. Let the situation play out. Ignore the lying voices inside your head. Screw your courage to the sticking place and hang your hope on the sure peg of Selah. Hollywood is going to be what it is. Politicians will be who they are. The world and its pleasures are passing away; let them go the way of the dust. Stand your ground, Olive Tree. It’s okay. He’s got this. He’s got you. You’re safe. Just be still, stay rooted, and “trust in his unfailing love” (v8).

Selah, beloved. Jesus.

put down your sword

[5 minutes]


Sandy and I had an argument on the way home from church recently. I know what you’re thinking: ‘What did she do now?’ Now, now. In her defense all she did was tell me something completely innocent and I responded in an argumentative way.

To bring you up to speed: I’m tired of waiting for a breakthrough. I keep thinking I could nudge it along by just taking the bull by the horns. Because I felt that Sandy was being much too passive (a better person than I would say gracious), I *might* have deposited my two cents’ worth about not doing the situation any favors by letting it fester. On the Lord’s Day, no less.

Question: Have you ever thought the Almighty needed a little extra help on being a better God and you just so happened to be the right person for the job?

No? Just me?

If there’s a Complaint Dept. in heaven, I’m sure I get the collective eye roll when my name comes up on Caller ID. My prickly side keeps showing up and I can’t seem to stop myself from butting my head against the concrete wall in front of me. Fortunately, there’s a Bible verse for pretty much any wall you’re butting up against. And, since I’m so hard-headed, the Lord saw fit to give me a pair of them the day after I reacted poorly to Sandy.

Aside: I’m pretty sure Jesus keeps certain scriptures holstered for me on just such occasions.

The first Bible verse with which the Lord got my attention is located near the end of Romans:


For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.

Rom. 15:4


Endurance.

What a powerful, necessary word.

Andrée Seu defines “endurance” as “faith with Nikes on.” William Barclay informs us that “endurance is not just the ability to bear a hard thing, but to turn it into glory.” That’s really good.

Paul is rounding out his letter with some holistic encouragement for the diverse gathering of saints in Rome. What’s most on his mind in those final strokes of his literary masterpiece? He tells them to endure. What’s even better, he lets them know in the very next verse (Rom 15:5) that God is a “God of endurance and encouragement.” IOW, we aren’t just counseled to endure, we’re told we get our endurance from God!

When we’ve been hit by the struggle bus, we are promised a bottomless pool of God’s grace from which to draw. Do you see how he puts “endurance” side-by-side with “encouragement” in verse 15? Write this down, beloved:

The Lord never calls us into any hardship without offering his comforting presence and strengthening grace in the midst of it.

Endure, Scott, Jesus told me. If you will trust my way and wait for all the pieces to fall together, you will see glory come from it.

I mentioned I have two scriptures to share with you. This one brought it all home for me.



And behold, one of those who were with Jesus stretched out his hand and drew his sword and struck the servant of the high priest and cut off his ear. Then Jesus said to him, “Put your sword back into its place. For all who take the sword will perish by the sword. Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once send me more than twelve legions of angels? But how then should the Scriptures be fulfilled, that it must be so?”

Matthew 26:51-54



Jesus’s rebuke of Peter in Gethsemane has more to do with recognizing a spirit of unbelief and rebellion in Peter rather than a righteous defense of an innocent victim. Jesus scolded Peter for trying to play the hero. For God! Such audacity! What nerve! Peter was clearly not happy with the turn of events, so he tried to rewrite the script (v54) all on his own.

Lord, deliver us — deliver me — from #SimonPeterSyndrome.

May we learn the lesson that trying to force God’s hand to move the process along never ends well. Such tactics, as Simon demonstrated, is not heroism, but a form of unbelief. Jesus had already prepared the Twelve three separate times that a night like this was going to happen. When God tells you what must take place, it isn’t up for discussion or a vote.

So, back to that unfortunate turn-of-events on the Sunday at hand. You’ve gotta know I pray over Sandy every day. There is a set prayer that I use, and I never deviate from the script I believe God prompted me to follow. It is very specific. Other prayers are added to it, depending on the day or situation, but the main prayers are ironclad. All of which makes this whole Sunday argument the stupidest thing on earth. I got mad at Sandy FOR DOING THE VERY THINGS I HAVE BEEN PRAYING FOR HER TO LIVE OUT.

Am I the just the dumbest?

I discovered something about that day I fussed at my wife. I learned while I’ve been surrendering ourselves to do and live God’s will in a very hard place, I’ve been holding a sword in my hand. This isn’t the way of Jesus.

When my Bible reading schedule took me to the Romans text, and then the Matthew passage, I heard Jesus, in no uncertain terms say: “Don’t you think I know what I’m doing and can handle matters without your help, thank you very much? Put your sword down.”

Lord, forgive me. Please. Deliver me from Simon Peter syndrome.

How will your will ever get done with me in the way?!?!?

Whew boy. Nailed once again by the Word of the Lord. This is getting to be a habit.

Put down your sword, whatever you’re up against. Endure in the hardship. And be encouraged. It’s a whole lot better — and less bloody — than lopping off ears.

Selah, beloved.