Recipe for Dismay

Have you felt it—that sickening discomposure that leaves you weak and confounded and thinking, “What am I gonna do?!” but too overwhelmed to imagine there is anything that can be done…?

Literally ‘dismay’ means to be shattered, to be broken down with fear, ‘shorn of strength’—’like plants of the field and like tender grass, like grass on the housetops, blighted before it is grown.’  (II Kings 19:26)  You get the feeling. 

There are plenty of examples.  Joseph’s brothers knew this sickening dread the instant Joseph, that foreboding Egyptian ruler, identified who he was to them.  They recognized not only his power, but the grave wrong they had done him and what was due them in return. (Gen.45:3) This is an interesting picture of what it will be like to stand before the Judgment Seat of Christ—nothing but dastardly unworthiness on our part, but… He is our Brother and has forgiven.  And that makes all the difference…  But that is a tangent.

Dismay is the temptation Joshua faced when called to lead the Israelites to conquer all of Canaan and claim it as their own. There were giants in the land!  The people back-pedaled fast, figuring it would be better to go back to Egypt.  God must hate them to have brought them to this juncture. (Deut.1:27ff.) They were the picture of dismay.  All but Joshua and Caleb.

Dismay is what all Israel felt--everyone but David, when Goliath stood up!  Another giant in the land. (I Sam.17:10,11)

And it’s what they felt again when hordes of Moabites and Ammonites came to fight their puny numbers. (II Chron.20:15)

It’s easy to find examples of dismay.  I’ve tasted it too—that sickening something in the pit of your stomach.  So, just in case you haven’t, I’ve written down the recipe.

It’s a common sense recipe really.  You just follow your best judgment with the proportions.  Start with a good look at the situation.  What are all the problems you face?  How big are they?  Compare them to your own strengths and aptitudes to see how you’ll measure up… You’ve got to really focus here.  Keep the problems foremost in your mind.

Then forget about any hocus-pocus promises. They’re only words on paper after all.  What you need is solutions you can work toward--a concrete plan of action.

Don’t be deterred by thoughts of what’s happened in the past—times when things all worked out for good.  Those were lucky exceptions. This situation is going to require some brute force, either that or some astute maneuvering.  You dare not leave it to chance.

And what about prayer.  Well, the recipe that always works for me involves praying in my own name.  Do you know what I mean?  This is how I see the situation.  This is what I want to see happen.  And this is how I’d like to see it accomplished.  Now for a game plan. Hmmm….this will require some quiet time to fret and fume.

Well, those are the main ingredients for mixing up a masterful batch of dismay, with a hint of discouragement and a touch of depression.  Oh, and there’s one important instruction for mixing it up properly. Pay careful attention to every thought that flits through your head.  Take each one seriously, as if it were the gospel truth.  Think those thoughts and don’t question their source.  It’ll give your batch of dismay a creative flare.

And that’s that—Be thou dismayed.  Good Luck!

--LS

P.S.  For more detailed instructions, consider the Scripture links included in the above instructions.  They will help to flesh out the complete picture. And should you wish to brew an antidote for dismay, these links will serve that purpose too!

To get a jump on the antidote to dismay, start here!

Hymns and Hope

I've been brought back to the old hymns lately. It's taken some weeks of pulling away from contemporary tunes and lyrics to begin to hear the old ones singing in my head again. But I need the old ones. I need their eternal no-nonsense perspective. When I wake stiff-necked, when the old body just ain't what she used to be, when joints don't work as well as they once did, (when I can't think of anything better to complain about than my body's petty ailments!) I need the old hymns. They point me to the Savior who came to save me not just so I can feel good today while I'm 'worshiping' but so that I can live for His glory today despite what ails me! and what’s more, I can look forward to an eternity of joy in beholding His glory in the hereafter! They point me beyond myself and my present state, beyond the way I feel to my great and unchanging Hope--this great and unchanging Savior whose glory is the purpose of life the universe and everything!

So many of the old hymns give evidence that everything is not sunshine and happy times in this lifetime but that we are safe in His care and certain of better things to come… We've lost this sense of living with a hope of eternal joy. We want Eden now, and expect it to be restored post haste as part of the 'deal' we 'accepted' when we came to Jesus.  But look at the old lines: "Under His wings, O what precious enjoyment! There will I hide till life's trials are o'er; Sheltered, protected, no evil can harm me; Resting in Jesus I'm safe evermore" (William Cushing, 1823-1902)

"Be still, my soul: the hour is hastning on When we shall be forever with the Lord, When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone, Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored. Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past, All safe and blessed we shall meet at last." (Katharina von Schlegel, 1697)

Or how about this old one: "Fade, Fade, Each Earthly Joy". The last stanza reads: "Farewell, mortality; Jesus is mine. Welcome, eternity; Jesus is mine. Welcome, O loved and blest, Welcome, sweet scenes of rest, Welcome, my Savior's breast; Jesus is mine." (Jane Bonar, 1821-1884) I need the old hymns because I need to be reminded of a theology that emphasizes the Kingdom of God as yet future in its fullness. We have been made new creatures in Christ, it is true, but these old bodies are waiting a future redemption. When Christ returns to set up His Kingdom all will be well. Until then we live in hope and no matter how good it gets here, it's not Eden. No matter how bad, (and it will get worse before it gets better!) there is a Kingdom coming! And the only thing certain in this lifetime is that it's subject to change without notice!

I escaped to the garden one morning this week when the house was too chilly and the sun far too inviting to think of hunkering down to desk work! It was one of those days where the bottom seemed to have dropped out of all the carefree summer fun. You know the kind-- you wake to the awareness that physically speaking, life is not getting better.  Maybe your neck is stiff; your joints are sore… You're getting older. You can tell it's happening when all your yesterdays seem sweeter than your todays. And your tomorrows? Well, they just draw a bleak blank. Maybe you're just tired from all the summer fun (?)…So I turned my small energies to wrestling with weeds in the hot morning sun. And as I worked Sunday's hymn came singing through my head: "My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness…" (Edward Mote, 1797-1874) It stirred me to think beyond my petty self-absorption. What was I hoping for anyway? A forever body in the here and now?! Endless carefree summer days?

I reflected on what a good thing it is that I have an Unchanging Savior. He never tires, (never grows old!) never loses perspective, and never puts aside His purpose of revealing His glory to me, in me, and through me. No wonder Paul said that rejoicing in the Lord would be a safeguard! (Phil. 3:1) He's the only One who does not and will not change. I am fickle. My energies are finite. I'm in trouble if rejoicing in me is all I have.

One day I'm pedaling with the ocean breeze in my face, on top of the world. The next I'm hunkered over lesson plans with a stiff neck and sagging confidence. One day I'm floating serenely on a quiet lake without a care in the world, the next I'm troubled over a dozen dilemmas…. My salvation is about more than my fickle here and now, my pleasure in the moment---where I can be rejoicing in the feeling of sun and water on skin and the delight of wind in my hair one moment and the next be plunged into weary malaise… There's no stability there; not unless in everything I'm turning my focus back to the glory of God, rejoicing in this moment because it is His doing, and trusting Him with whatever the next moment holds. My salvation is about rejoicing that I have a Savior whose agenda doesn't change with the weather, who never tires or gives up on His plans for me…He has redeemed me for a purpose bigger than me. "When darkness veils His lovely face, I trust in His unchanging grace. When all around my soul give way, He then is all my hope and stay." He has redeemed me for His glory.

Somehow, as I rejoice in all He is, I fulfill His purpose for my days. He intends for me to reflect His glory whether I'm sweating in the garden on my knees in the dirt or inhaling the essence of sweet peas on a summer's evening. Whether I'm reveling in sunshine while floating on a secluded lake or bent over a desk grappling with lesson plans… In everything I'm meant to look to Him as Source and Solace, my beginning and ending, and my Song in the meantime. He's the One constant in a lifetime of change. My hope can be built on nothing less.

--LS

"….for apart from God who can eat or who can have enjoyment?" Eccl.2:24,25

"So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." I Cor.10:31

“Finally, my brothers, rejoice in the Lord! It is no trouble for me to write the same things to you again, and it is a safeguard for you.”  Phil.3:1

Indebted to Grace

The older I get the more of a 'Calvinist' I become—the more grateful for the sovereign grace of God. As my energy and idealism mellow with age, I look back at the first fifty years and see a trail of grace I may have once mistaken for the product of my energies. All the really good things, the key decisions, the best choices, the surprising and rewarding trails I've traveled have been God's doings. I only followed His lead. Where is there room for boasting, about anything?! This role I play in life, it's all a gift, His calling, my privilege.

How did I get to be a Grandmom? A mother? A wife? A child of God? How did I get to be born?! I can look back and see the choices I've made but the stringing together of opportunities to make them, this I could not do. And where did the propensity come from to make them one way or another? I could not know that in saying 'yes' to one thing, I would be saying 'no' to a host of other things and getting myself into a whole 'nother set of things… And God only knows how much I have to be grateful for. I've only scratched the surface of seeing things as I ought. And that too is grace…

O to grace how great a debtor daily I'm constrained to be…

What of the hidden hazards that could have tripped me up given my naivety and yes, my self-will? These are only visible in retrospect, some of them anyway. A hidden Hand graciously spared me the trauma they would have caused. I see these things when I look back. I am a Grandmom now, entrusted with carefree little people who blithely trundle down the road of life as though it were a safe place. They hold my hand and expect that all will be well. They have few fears, little knowledge of what could happen. They just trust and take first steps… and sometimes their sin-bent wills say 'no' and try to do things their own way. Here too they need a hand to guide them into the way of right-eousness… and as I'm learning they are too: It's always best to say "Yes" to the one who knows what's best and sees beyond my small horizons… and to trust Him to lead me in  paths of righteousness, for HIS name's sake.

I am reminded of an old Sunday School song: "I will sing of the mercies of the Lord forever". The fitting response to grace is gratitude. The more of grace I recognize, the more grace-filled I will be—not just at meal-time when we 'say grace'! All of life is by His grace. In all of life God is worthy of my effusive gratitude, whether I recognize His mercies at any given moment or not.

The alternative is to focus my will to strive for God's favor, to beg for 'blessings' (like a child for lollipops at dinnertime), to pout when He says 'no', and to scheme of ways to 'ambush' Him into giving me my 'due' as though He owed me something for all my efforts. Children in grocery stores do it all the time. The 'children of Israel' in the desert did it too. They whined and fussed and demanded to be fed what they wanted when they wanted it. They were not grateful. They failed to trust in their Father's care… they did not know His ways and so they missed His very best for them. Failing to learn the fear of God coupled with the love of God they were destined to die in the desert.

And as I shepherd my grandbabies along city streets, training them to walk on sidewalks and look both ways before they cross…reminding them not to demand but to say 'please' and 'thank-you' and wait patiently…and most of all grinning and smiling and applauding their antics, loving and playing, pushing the swing and making play dough together…I give them a hint of the fear of God and the love of God. His discipline and His favor, hand in hand, which I pray will shepherd them all their lives long. And I rest in His Sovereign grace that has been lavish in my life and will be just as sufficient for theirs. Oh to grace how great a debtor daily we all are constrained to be!

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.

{Listen here as Chris Rice sings it.}

--LS

Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ: By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Rom.5:1,2

My Last-born Treasure

Well, it's been quite a week…may have started with a sag in hormones, but a bunch of things conspired to exacerbate the situation… Being the time of year that homeschoolers assess what's been accomplished (and what's been missed) in terms of academics, I was in this mode well before Rachel requested to see Micah's old writings. Oh boy. That was like opening a kettle of fish.

You see, Micah, our firstborn, was a prophet in his day. His portfolio, tucked carefully away in my closet, holds candid exposés of life as he experienced and perceived it in the Skelton household. The hurts and injustices, inconsistencies and hypocrisy are skillfully outlined in the form of essays and plays, written too accurately to miss or brush aside. There I am in all my glory (not!) trying to manage a household of jostling students who also happened to be my flesh and blood and bear my imperfections… The age comes when one's offspring are more apt to 'rise up and call you blessed' but this was not that age. The assessment I got was honest. And convicting. God's arrow to arrest us in our steps and help us to begin adding grace to the running of our household. But change takes time…Micah left the nest with his own custom baggage. This is not easy to face as a Mom, who wants only to live to bless her children, to love them well, to prepare them for their futures with good things… But the kettle was opened.

Add to this the feelings of nostalgia and regret that inevitably accompany digging through old school books. I had a phone call from a younger homeschool mom in the midst of this, asking for advice and recommendations and I was having a little dig-about to see what I could share… So many books we've waded through together. So many good memories. And always, so much left undone.

This would all be manageable if it were all history, but the writing of our history is not yet complete. You see, Rachel has yet one more critical year of school to finish, and I am VERY aware of this fact given the time of year we are at…Just a few more weeks of this year and then just o-n-e m-o-r-e y-e-a-r in which to teach her all she needs to know before we wave goodbye and she flies off to Bible school…Talk about pressure. And all these good books, so much potential learning, so much to cover, so much to think about…How are we gonna do it?! Too much to bear.

And then came Monday morning at breakfast over our customary Monday-cream-of-wheat. Rachel hadn't yet joined us. I opened my mouth to put in words the pressure I was feeling and the restless night and tortured waking thoughts, and well, the dam broke…I took my toast and tea and retreated to unload my heart...

'To you, O Lord, I call
my rock, be not deaf to me,
lest, if you be silent to me,
I become like those who go down to the pit.

Hear the voice of my pleas for mercy,
When I cry to you for help,
When I lift up my hands
Toward your most holy sanctuary…' Ps.28:1,2

And this is where Rachel found me when she popped her head in to ask what to do with my cold bowl of cream of wheat! Weird, seeing Mom with a blanket over her head all curled up in a ball…praying… for Rachel, for us, for the years locusts have nibbled on, for mercy, for forgiveness, for strength and wisdom, for HELP!

To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul…let me not be put to shame; Indeed none who wait for you shall be put to shame (Ps.25:1-3)

"Who is the man who fears the LORD? Him will he instruct in the way that he should choose. His soul shall abide in well-being, and his offspring shall inherit the land…" Ps.25:12,13

Praying for Rachel. My fearfully and wonderfully made last-born—this delightful child that undoes any sense of competence that I may have gained with the previous five children…delightfully herself, and so very different than her mother in many ways. She is my dreamer, a visionary that can see teddy bears as potential companions for orphans or old folks if I could just help her get an Organization rolling…She dances along with visions of sugarplums --the potential of all that could be, while I, pre-occupied with the fine print, run into barricades! She composes fiction like it’s the most natural thing in the world while I labor to ferret out facts and put them in order. She doodles in bears of every describable pose and occupation, while I look for models to painstakingly copy. We are different.

She loves to be celebrated; I prefer to be inconspicuous. She thrives on anticipation of 'exciting' things to come; I on the rhythm of the commonplace. And she knows how to SMILE and to HUG and to quiver with delight! "Are you excited Mom?!!" How many times have I tried to explain that excitement throws me off balance. I'm happy in a quiet way. I try not to look too far ahead, on purpose, so that today's business is not sabotaged with the emotional energy of anticipation… Makes no sense to a dreamer. So here we are in my 'old age' trying to figure each other out. Daily companions. Teacher and student. Mother and daughter. Improbable friends for a season of my life that might otherwise be bland and predictable…

And into this difficult day comes an essay by Rachel, inspired by her brother's of yesteryear perhaps… to be read aloud to Mom… You should know that Rachel's been reading Our Town, the play by Thornton Wilder. Do you know it? It's an extraordinary piece studied by generations of high schoolers for its unusually ordinary theme—the preciousness of everyday life. There is no particular plot. It takes place in a little-known small town where generations have lived and married and died without fanfare. And it poignantly reminds the reader how precious is each moment and detail of ordinary life. Sometimes only in the loss of a thing, or of life itself do we realize what we have had…

“Good-by, Good-by, world. Good-by, Grover's Corners... Mama and Papa. Good-by to clocks ticking... and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths...and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you.”

"Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it -- every, every minute?” ( from Our Town, Thornton Wilder)

So given that backdrop, here's Rachel to read me her daily piece of writing…

"As she walks out with her teddy bear tucked beneath her arm—the last thing in the house she had found hiding in the closet, she pauses at her room, remembering… [a host of words followed that evoked the return of my tears] …She's leaving this place, leaving for college. Her child-ness is gone. She's grown up. She smiles at her teddy bear."

Oh my! I escape to vent my tears only to hear a knock at the door instead and here's that young mom in need of some good books and homeschooling advice! Oh my! What treasure I've been entrusted with. It can't be time to wave the flag of surrender. Still there is a task at hand. Still a treasure to enjoy, and experience to share.

"Wait for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord…(Ps.27:14)

"Indeed, none who wait for you shall be put to shame." (Ps.25:3)

The week began like that. But one and another little thing have lifted my perspective back to waiting in anticipation of how God will see us through. One sweet conversation was part of that. Rachel shared with me her 'take' on how to be happy, no matter what comes… She watches morning by morning as we swallow our 'happy pills' (Vitamin D). She'll have none of it, just laughs that it's a mere placebo effect that makes us think we've braved the gloomy winter months on account of Vitamin D. Not her. At the start of 2011, she says, she decided she was going to be happy, no matter what the weather. And she has done it. Every morning she comes down to breakfast smartly dressed in her new 'business style' skirts and tops, her hair neatly put up in a girlish swirl. She eats, clears dishes and gets right to her school work. You wouldn't know she doesn't enjoy school. She just gets down to it. 'If you always wish for the weekends you'll waste your life just wishing for them,' she says. The same goes for the days that look 'fierce and scary'… you don't have to worry about them till they come. "I believe Grace will come when you most need it, not now just worrying about it." And she compared it to not needing the ticket for the plane a year ahead, only when it's actually time to board…

I wished I had recorded her words, just got the snatches she wrote down later. But there was something she said about smiling (she's always smiling!). She said something to the effect that 'I just go through the day thinking that everyone is smiling at me'! Well if that won't make a person happy! I think there's something to that. Maybe everyone's not smiling, but the One who matters most of all IS smiling when He watches us. That is something to live by! And maybe I'll learn to smile through my days yet with this Treasure under my roof. Bless you Rachel. You are God's gift to me!

There were other things that lifted my spirits…a vigorous tandem ride, getting out to weed the garden, taking time to paint and draw, reading Words of encouragement, the advice and loan of books by a friend, repenting, and putting action to good intention…but I will close with the words of a hymn that filled my thoughts one morning and turned my heart from hesitant 'unworthiness' to joy. It goes like this:

Arise, my soul, arise! Shake off thy guilty fears;
The bleeding Sacrifice In my behalf appears.
Before the throne my Surety stands; My name is written on His hands…

He ever lives above, For me to intercede;
His all redeeming love, His precious blood to plead;
His blood atoned for all our race, And sprinkles now the throne of grace…

[I had been reading Leviticus 10 and thereabouts. What a graphic picture is this laying one's hand on the head of the animal that is to be killed because of your sin, and then having its blood splashed on the altar. So serious, this sin. 'without shedding of blood there is no remission' of it!]

Five bleeding wounds He bears, Received on Calvary;
They pour effectual prayers, They strongly plead for me;
"Forgive him, O forgive," they cry, "Nor let that ransomed sinner die!"

The Father hears Him pray, His dear Anointed One;
He cannot turn away The presence of his Son;
His Spirit answers to the blood, And tells me I am born of God…

My God is reconciled, His pardoning voice I hear;
He owns me for His child, I can no longer fear;
With confidence I know draw nigh, And "Father, Abba, Father" cry…

If you haven't heard Twila Paris' rendition of this on her Sanctuary CD, don't miss it. Jim has posted it here.

May its message haunt you with hope as it has me!

"Blessed be the LORD! For He has heard the voice of my pleas for mercy.
The LORD is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped;  My heart exults,  And with my song I give thanks to Him." (Ps.28:6,7)

--LS

Sing!

…it is good to sing praises to our God; for it is pleasant, and a song of praise is fitting. Ps.147:1

Morning. And with my feet landing on the floor came a nudge to remember to SING, to bless the Lord, to keep my focus there…I needed the reminder.

I find it easy to obsess over issues that need ‘fixing’ or problems big and small, ranging from family to church to my unruly sinus! And when problems loom big God begins to seem small. I may at first feel indispensable (as though I were God!) but soon the troubles become insurmountable beyond anything I’m capable of throwing at them…and I find my focus is way off track. So it was a fitting reminder to remember to sing. God hasn’t moved away, hasn’t lost track of local affairs, hasn’t turned a blind eye. He still reigns. And is still more than worthy of my praise. He is still building His church. He is still accomplishing His purposes. He is still working for the good of those who love Him and are called for His purposes…can’t really do much singing without these realities overtaking the troubles!

OK, this is going to sound like I’m preaching what I don’t practice but since it was still early morning and the household was asleep, (and I could add other excuses…), I went to my quiet spot with a hymnbook and read hymns…

There’s within my heart a melody, Jesus whispers sweet and low,
Fear not, I am with thee, peace, be still, In all of life’s ebb and flow.

Feasting on the riches of His grace, Resting ‘neath his sheltering wing,
Always looking on His smiling face, That is why I shout and sing.
[Admittedly, my style is a bit more subtle than this]

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Sweetest name I know,
Fills my every longing, Keeps me singing as I go.

And I opened to the Psalms and was reminded again of what singing attests to: “Sing to the Lord, bless His name; tell of His salvation from day to day. Declare His glory…his marvelous works…For great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised; he is to be feared above all gods.”  (Ps.96)

Just reading psalms puts life in perspective pretty quickly…  “The Lord reigns! Yes, the world is established; it shall never be moved.” (Ps.96:10)  Not much room left for dismay that things are spiraling out of control, maybe out of mine, but not out of His! I may not see what He’s doing, but I can rest assured He is at work.

But why sing. Isn’t reading good enough? I read an interesting article today by worship leader/songwriter, Bob Kauflin in which he discusses ‘What Happens When We Sing?’* One practical benefit of singing is that it helps us remember words! And then he pointed to Deuteronomy 31,32 in which God instructs Moses to write a song and teach it to the children of Israel. Why? Because in the days to come when they rebel against God and troubles come upon them the song will confront them as a witness to all God has done for them in the past, including this warning not to rebel! The song “will live unforgotten in the mouths of their offspring”. (31:21) Can you picture it? Like some oldies hit or catchy commercial, God’s words will come back to them when they need most to hear them. Wow. And these are no empty words, God says, ‘but your very life.”(32:47)

Kauflin goes on to make the point that we should sing words that God wants us to remember. It matters what we sing. He suggests that the words we sing impact us far more than we may realize. Another scholar has said, “Show me a church’s songs and I’ll show you their theology.”** Interesting. The importance of music as an expression of our faith is borne out in passages like Colossians 3:16. Singing becomes a spiritual overflow of the Word of Christ that we are imbibing: ‘singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs with thankfulness in your hearts to God’. When I was a lot younger, I would strum chords on my guitar and invent songs with Scripture. My mother did the same at the piano and we were often ‘called’ to breakfast with her catchy tunes. Maybe it’s time to revive this practice? I’m thankful for all the talented songwriters who are doing this.

Consider Psalm 84: “How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord of hosts!...”  A quick You-Tube search brings up a wide variety of musical expressions of this psalm.  There’s a smooth meditative soloist version with choral backup here,  a mellow rendition of the whole psalm by a young male group, the “Sons of Korah”, here, and perhaps the most familiar—Matt Redmans, “Better is One Day in Your Courts”, here.

Or you can access an Anglican chant, a choir in the Canterbury Cathedral, or a Jewish reading/singing of the Psalm… there’s no want of opportunities to sing God’s Word.  You can even create you own song.  My selection of Psalm 84 as an example is not random.  An article in a series on “Good Grief” came to my Inbox this week and seemed so appropriate in light of last week’s blog featuring a counter-cultural view of death. In this article by T.M.Moore,  Psalm 84 was described as:

“… a song for the journey of life. Its purpose is to provide focus and bolstering for taking on the daily travails of our earthly existence. It teaches us how to turn all our sorrows to strength and joy by helping us keep our eyes on the Lord….

We are bound for an eternal dwelling place of glory, light, beauty, holiness, rejoicing, and wonder. That unseen destination is even now being prepared for us by our victorious Savior and King, and He will surely come again to receive us into His eternal glory. We must train our souls to long for that glory– to hope in the glory of God, then and there, so that we may live in it here and now as well (v. 2). The way to do this is to present ourselves each day as living sacrifices to God, like birds offered up on the altar for His pleasure (v. 3; cf. Rom. 12:1, 2). If we fill our journey with praise and thanksgiving, whatever we encounter along the way, we will be able to bear it up, because our true focus and joy lie beyond our temporal circumstances in the presence of the unchanging Lord of glory (vv. 4,5).In the midst of our trials, sufferings, disappointments, and losses, we do not compound our grief by separating from the Lord; instead, we seek Him earnestly in prayer and hide within Him as our Shield and Comfort (vv. 8, 9).” –T.M. Moore

I commend to you the entire article: “A Valley of Tears”  but it was especially interesting to me that this writer also talked about the value of putting good words to music so they can become companions on our life’s journey, to remind us of truth when we need it most. He in fact offered a version of Psalm 84 arranged to fit standard hymn meter and singable to tunes we already may know, such as “Brethren We have Met to Worship” (Tune: HOLY MANNA) or the one I prefer: Glorious Things of Thee are Spoken (Tune: AUSTRIA)

I reprint his singable version of Psalm 84 here:

Psalm 84

vv. 1-4
Lord of hosts, how sweet Your dwelling;
How my soul longs for Your courts!
Let my soul with joy keep telling
Of Your grace forever more.
Like a bird upon the altar
Let my life to You belong.
Blest are they who never falter
As they praise Your grace with song!
vv. 5-7
Blest are they whose strength is founded
In Your strength, O Lord above.
All whose hearts in You are grounded
Journey in Your strength and love.
Though they weep with tears of sadness,
Grace shall all their way sustain.
In Your presence, filled with gladness,
They shall conquer all their pain.
vv. 8-12
Lord of hosts, my prayer receiving,
Hear me, help me by Your grace!
In Your courts I stand believing;
Turn to me Your glorious face!
Lord, our sun, our shield, our glory,
No good thing will You deny
To those who proclaim Your story,
And who on Your grace rely.
--T.M.Moore

Just call up the tune and try it!

In the beginning of the world there was song—“When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy” (Job 38:7)
And in the end there will be the song of the redeemed: “Thou art worthy to take the book, and to open the seals thereof: for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation; And hast made us unto our God kings and priests: and we shall reign on the earth”. (Rev.5:9,10)

What will fill these in-between years?

Today I heard the robins. They’re returning to these climes with familiar songs, reminding us that spring has indeed arrived despite the somber weather most days. They sing because they’re made to sing. What does a little rain matter? Perhaps I ought to take their cue.

--LS

P.S. I’ve been enjoying Laura Story’s music lately. She sings from a life story of hard things but a good God. This one echoes what I’m trying to say:

Bless the Lord, O my soul
All that’s in me bless Your name
Forget not Your power un-told
Not Your glory or Your fame

Have a listen here: “Bless the Lord” by Laura Story

From the archives… This is not the first time I’ve been prompted to sing…looking in the archives I smiled to recall this one, where I was forced to sing to keep the bears at bay:  “Alive and Well”

----------------------------------
*Piper, John and Justin Taylor, gen.ed. The Power of Words and the Wonder of God, Crossway,2009. pp.121-135.
**Gordon Fee, quoted p.126

Such Love

I sat sobbing as the credits rolled, overwhelmed by the story I had just seen, the love of a devoted wife that had stuck with her man through thick and thin, through insanity and paranoia—true genius gone amuck. She was beautiful and committed, her man’s salvation. And here was her reward--as he stood at the podium in his latter years receiving the Nobel Prize for his accomplishments long years before—he attributed his success to the woman who had stuck with him through it all. I wept.

I don’t think the kids quite knew why Mom was crying…maybe they haven’t lived long enough to appreciate such rare love. The movie was a tribute to true love’s redemptive effect; I cried because I too have known such love. Why me? Why should I be beneficiary to the love of a good man devoted unrelentingly to my success, let alone the God of the universe pledged to bless me now and forever. Such love.

I wept too for the thought of such loneliness, such isolation as diseases of the mind create. I thought of my own father in advanced stages of Alzheimer’s disease, unable to know or be known by those he loves most, alone in a labyrinth of confusion…but for God, this God who loves still, this God from whose love nothing can separate us, not life, not death, nor any of the things in between…

And admittedly, I wept a little for fear of such aloneness coming to me. Life is lonely at its core even in the best of times. We are known and loved in such a limited way by flesh and blood. Noone knows us as we wish to be known—and should disease impair our minds, what then? And yet, there is no fear in love--this genuine all-surpassing kind of Love that we are lavished with in Christ. We are fully known and fully loved. This too is awesome. And with credits rolling and soundtrack playing ,  (“All Love Can Be” –Charlotte Church*) I sobbed in wonder of it all… The mental illness had not vanished but love had triumphed.

Is this not a picture of life as we know it? Even as believers, as ‘called out’ ones, as ‘holy and beloved’ ones, we suffer—bound to the hope of things yet to come. Redeemed and yet waiting for redemption. And it is only God’s love poured into our hearts that holds us together in the meantime (Rom.5:3-5).  Despite trouble, trial, heartbreak, disappointment, tragedy… we are declared to be “more than conquerors through Him who loved us!” (Rom.8:37)

The movie we had watched was “A Beautiful Mind”. It is roughly based on the true story of a man named John Forbes Nash, a mathematical genius whose theories would impact such diverse fields of knowledge as economics, biology, accounting, and politics. He was portrayed as not only brilliant but arrogant in his student days. The diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia began a long painful process by which he was forced to face his weaknesses and learn to live dependent on others to confirm what is real and what is not. Through the love and commitment of wife and colleagues he eventually returns to the academic world a far humbler and wiser man. The movie was exceptional.  (and to think that he studied and still lives very near my own hometown…)

As is so often the case in movies, this one was too good to be entirely true. I am something of a tortured romantic. I watch the occasional movie to live for just a bit in a world that is better than real life. But I can’t seem to leave off the analysis afterward—was that true? And generally, I am disappointed. So, the morning after the movie I did a bit of research… Yes, these people were quite human. Their good points were exaggerated. Their bad points minimized. Their love imperfect. Sigh. But having pushed past the initial disappointment, still I am inspired by the story, for it smacks of one that is true. Real love does redeem and ennoble and transform. And that’s for real. Those who know how well-loved they are, give witness by their lives to love’s redemptive glory. Those who haven’t realized the extent of God’s love for them have a good thing coming… Me? I’m somewhere in between. But I like what I see!

To know the reaches of God’s love which lie beyond our ability to fathom, (Eph.3:16-18) this is a worthy pursuit for a lifetime. To reflect that love (“Love one another as I have loved you” -- Jn.15:12) is a daunting calling! Who is sufficient for these things?! But every time we see glimmers of the real thing happening, whether in movies, or in real-life, there’s reason to call attention to it and stand in awe of the God who is the author of such love. The subject is inexhaustible! I guess that’s why there are SO many songs extolling love’s virtues. The first that comes to mind is this one, found scribbled on the wall of an insane asylum when the inmate died:

“Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love of God above,
Would drain the ocean dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.”

They say these words were not original but derived from an ancient Hebrew poem which was later amended with two additional verses (Frederich M. Lehman--1917) to comprise the hymn we know today as “The Love of God”.

One blogger has fittingly called its opening lines his “Blogger’s Acknowledgment”: The love of God is greater far than tongue or pen can ever tell. He explains:

“In this kingdom of the blog world we have a seemingly unlimited sky of parchment on which to write and everyone does appear to be a scribe by trade. Each keyboard is certainly the stalk and quill utilized by every scribe and according to the "Google Blogger" we will not even come close to draining dry their hard drive….So whether with ink, quill and parchment or keyboard, mouse and cyberspace [these] words… express the inexhaustible and ineffable nature of God’s love towards His people. I’ve called our inadequacy to exhaust the expressions of His love through writing: ‘This Blogger’s Acknowledgment’” (Dave Van).

As for my blogger’s tribute, I will leave you a little collection of better words than mine, on this great love...

“O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee;
I give Thee back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.”

--George Matheson 1842-1906

“O the deep, deep love of Jesus, vast, unmeasured, boundless, free!
Rolling as a mighty ocean in its fullness over me!
Underneath me, all around me, is the current of Thy love
Leading onward, leading homeward to Thy glorious rest above!

O the deep, deep love of Jesus, spread His praise from shore to shore!
How He loveth, ever loveth, changeth never, nevermore!
How He watches o’er His loved ones, died to call them all His own;
How for them He intercedeth, watcheth o’er them from the throne!

O the deep, deep love of Jesus, love of every love the best!
’Tis an ocean full of blessing, ’tis a haven giving rest!
O the deep, deep love of Jesus, ’tis a heaven of heavens to me;
And it lifts me up to glory, for it lifts me up to Thee!”

--Samuel T. Francis 1834-1925

 

And lastly, my confession, taken from Laura Story’s lyrics in “Faithful God”

All I am and all I’ll ever be, is all because [God] loves so faithfully…Ahhh… such love.

--LS

“More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope,  and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”  Rom.5:3-5

----------------------------------------------------------------------

* James Horner is the composer and conductor of “The Beautiful Mind” soundtrack.

The lyrics of the closing song to this soundtrack are as follows. They hold a more profound meaning when viewed from the vantage point of one loved by God…

All that Love Can Be

I will watch you in the darkness,
Show you love will see you through.
When the bad dreams wake you crying,
I'll show you all love can do -
All love can do.
I will watch through the night,
Hold you in my arms,
Give you dreams where love will be.
I will watch through the dark
Till the morning comes
All the light I'll take you
Through the night to see -
Our light, showing us all love can be.
I will guard you with my bright wings,
Stay till your heart learns to see
All love can be.

--Will Jennings

And glory shone around!

The music, the light, the glory of the Christmas season—I love it! Snatches of lyrics trot through my mind in endless succession like that illusive horse pulling the ‘one-horse open sleigh’ --a song that threatens to undue me if I hear it one more time!! I’ve never taken such a sleigh ride and I suspect I would be freezing and opt to stay home and have hot chocolate or perhaps linger under the mistletoe…while the chestnuts roast on our open fire. Ha! that’s another set of lyrics I’ve had more than enough of for a whole year! But while ‘Silver Bells’ and ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ and such modern ‘classics’ vie for airtime, it’s the old ones that hold the glory of the Season.

They tell the story of what happens when God appears on the human landscape— to ”certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay”-- when a long dark night is punctuated by stunning lights and angels and an earth-shattering birth announcement!  The glory of the Lord shone around them and their world would never be the same.  They hightailed it to Bethlehem to find this living, breathing, swaddled-in-cloth Savior and spread the word.  “Veiled in flesh, the God-head see.  Hail the Incarnate Deity.  Pleased as man with men to dwell, Jesus, our Emmanuel!”

If the folks asleep in Bethlehem that night ‘sprang from their beds to see what was the matter’ the news went way beyond a reindeer-drawn sleigh driven by Saint Nick out doing last-minute parcel deliveries.

“Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the LORD is risen upon thee!!!”  Age-old prophecies were being fulfilled this night on their very doorsteps, if only they had ears to hear the news. “For, behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people: but the LORD shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen  upon thee.” (Is.60:1,2)

But ‘how silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given…’ (O Little Town of Bethlehem)  How many local residents even knew what was happening that night?  It would be years before Jesus’ glory would begin to be unveiled…and His neighbors were the ones most likely not to recognize it.  And as for the rest of the world?  Only a few ‘wisemen came from country far; to seek for a king was their intent, and to follow the star wherever it went’(The First Noel)….It would be years yet before the significance of this night’s glory would be flung to the far reaches of the world.

And who would believe it?  Isaiah predicted the whole situation: “Who has believed our report? And to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed? For He shall grow up before Him as a tender plant, And as a root out of dry ground. He has no form or comeliness; And when we see Him, There is no beauty that we should desire Him.” (Is.53)

Here, the glory of the Lord was all wrapped up in swaddling clothes…then in a carpenter’s apparel, then in the garb of an itinerate teacher…then hanging naked on a wooden cross…who would see it?  It was announced with great fanfare and drama in the beginning: “GLO………RI-A   IN EXCELSIS DEO…” by ‘angels from the realms of glory, wing[ing] their flight o’er all the earth’ [Angels from the Realms of Glory] but what of the glory now?  ”how silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given.  So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of His heaven, no ear may hear his coming, but in this world of sin, where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in” [O Little Town of Bethlehem]…inviting all who would follow:

“I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.” (Jn.8:12)

This God-man came into the world with his glory largely veiled, or I suppose we’d all be dead.  After all, the shepherds were left quaking and ‘sore afraid’  at the mere announcement of his coming when ‘the glory of the Lord shone around them’. (Lk.2)  No, the glory of Jesus was of a more subtle sort.  John described it this way: ”And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” Jn.1:14  Before His coming there was the Law, impossible to keep, bringing condemnation, showing the gulf that existed between man and God.  But with Jesus, there came grace, God’s unlikely, untimely, unbidden favor---peace on earth and good-will toward man.  A perfect melding of grace and truth was the glory Jesus shone with ‘and from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.’ (Jn.1:16)

And every Christmas we again string lights and light candles and listen to music that celebrates the glorious reality that “God with man is now residing.”  Where is He?  Lo, the star over Bethlehem has given way to a Body of Christ-followers who ‘shine like stars in the universe.’  It is in the likes of you and me ‘in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation’ (Phil..2:15) that His glory is now seen, in these earthen vessels shining with a glory not their own, revealing the Light of the World!  And as we shine, wise men are drawn to come and see this great King who has been born to us--the Light of the World and the Glory we long to see.

And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit. 2Cor.3:18

“The glory that you have given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me.  Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory that you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world.”.Jn.17:22-24

--LS

May His glory shine in and around you this Christmas season!

---and some final thoughts on this great glory---

“…the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.” 2Cor4:4

“For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” II Cor 4:17,18

Alive and Well

I'm alive and well, as are the bears.
I ventured across the highway this evening only to discover my old tracks overgrown.

I forged along anyway--in quest of good cheer,
a lift of spirits,
an improved state of mind.

I've been mulligrubbing over summer's slowness to show itself,
resenting the chill,
tromping along head down...argh alder saplings in 'my' way,  blackberry tangle, sprawling spring growth.
I'm in over my head (quite literally) but forging through..
.
Louie picks up his pace, suddenly looking alert and eager and trots out of sight-- and oh! a dog is barking up ahead, must be someone else out here crazy as I am.

No wait. That's Louie's bark, his "Bear!" alert.
Rats.  Can't see ahead, can't see much of anything.  In this tiny corridor wedged against a chainlink fence it occurs to me this is probably the bear's primary passage too.

I clamber onto a big stump to survey my situation.
Louie's barking and charging a big black hulk. The hulk turns and charges in return.  Louie dodges and turns and back and forth they go.  I'm standing on my stump yelling to be sure the bear doesn't come this direction!  Waving.  Hollering, "Louie, NO!. Louie, Come!..."

Mr. Bear's loathe to leave his grubbing grounds for this pesky barking dog but now there's someone hollering from a stump...He rises on hind legs to get a better look. Huh?  Must be surprising to see a two-legged One out here.  He begins to retreat, but not without stopping every few paces to check his back, rearing up on hind legs to see if I'm in pursuit-- I'm NOT.

So, we're temporarily out of mischief, but I still have this whole tangle of clear-cut to circumvent now that I've parted ways with that bear corridor.  And once I straggle my way to the old dirt road I yet have a long dim trail overhung with trees and flanked with rampant undergrowth to navigate.  We're not home free yet!
[Make noise, that's the key.]
 
A running monologue with Louie grows old after the first unanswered comments.  A hymn sing might just do the trick. Lots of words. Lots of volume.  And so I commence.  (This is something I'm normally quite shy of doing, for fear of being heard.  But now, that's just the point ! and it's unlikely anyone else is so foolhardy as to be out here brambling in bear country at this time of day anyway!)

All Creatures of Our God and King suits the occasion.  All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name is forceful and emboldening... And soon I'm bellowing Praise My Soul the King of Heaven followed by Jesus is the Sweetest Name I know. No, that one's too sweet-sounding.

There's a LOT of fresh bear poo all along my way now--and Louie's dashed up the path barking again off to the side in the overgrown undergrowth.  I can't see the bear.  But neither can it see me!
[Keep singing-- loudly!]
 
Maybe some percussion would be good about now.
Bring on my sticks... "The j-o-y of the L-o-o-o-ord is my strength [strike sticks], the joy of the L-o-r-d is my strength [crack!]...

And the reality of what's happening in my soul makes me chuckle.  I started on this walk my spirit dragging in quest of fresh joy but unwilling to fight for it.  And what am I doing now?!  Singing my heart out, with urgency, declaring what I know to be true whether I feel it to be so or not.

And just maybe a hint of joy is creeping over me in this bear-infested wilderness as I sing because after all, I am alive and well!
 
And I'm in hot pursuit, not of bears, but of Joy!
Joy really is my strength!

"But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head."  Psalm 3:3 
btw: Have you seen John Piper's book: When I Don't Desire GOD: How to Fight for Joy   It has resurfaced at my house recently.   It's excellent and practical help for re-orienting your source of joy to Christ above all.  Think it's time for a refresher myself!

Cheers!
Linda

War Zone!

I woke in the night to the deep reverberations of distant gunfire and bombing—felt like I was in a war zone.  Once I’d righted the situation by getting up and asking our night owl to turn the bass speaker down, it occurred to me, I am living in a war zone.  Our struggle may not be against flesh and blood or other seen realities.  It is nonetheless real – principalities and powers vie for the lifeblood of our own young adults.  We are the sentry on the hill signaling heaven for aid, believing for reinforcements, holding up our arms…

With the gray light of a rainy morning I opened an old hymnbook to this militant gem:
    Sound the battle cry! See the foe is nigh;
    Raise the standard high For the Lord;
   Gird your armor on, Stand firm, everyone;
   Rest your cause upon His holy Word.

So I rise to gird on my armor this particular morning in the face of situations I have no solutions for, problems I feel powerless to solve… Life is like that often as a parent.  Did I miss Basic Training Camp or something or is this on-the--job training?  Every year the job description changes anyway so the training manual had better be comprehensive.  And so it is.  I’ve been chewing on II Peter 1 lately—we have everything we need for life and godliness through the knowledge of Him who called us. Hmm.  That should be enough! And through His great and precious promises we are invited to share His very nature. wow.

So where did this heap of guilt, condemnation for a job poorly done, and a sense of helpless inadequacy come from?  Why am I feeling accused of being a failure?  (Now there’s a red flag! ‘…the accuser of the brethren’?) Where does all this tend to push me? toward anger? resentment? against whom?  I woke this morning with a familiar chorus singing through my heart: “You’re the Defender of the weak; You comfort those in need.  You lift us up on wings like eagles…Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord, we will wait upon the Lord, we will wait upon the Lord…”
     [If you have not yet been introduced to Chris Tomlin’s music, do check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UhMdWjL2kiU]

The not-so-funny thing is, God sometimes seems to be part of the problem.  He’s not rescuing me from my troubles, not giving me answers quickly enough, not quelling my rising panic with an instant and tidy “here’s how” blueprint.  In short, He doesn’t seem to be in a rush to fix my problems.  So between my stealthily rising resentment and a descending sense of condemnation I can tend to separate myself from my very source of strength right when I need Him most.  But then His Spirit faithfully comes and whispers songs in my ear and points me to truth.  Wow.  Yes, better get about putting on that armor!

…the belt of truth—what is it I’m believing right now, about my troubles, about my God, about myself?  Is it true?  Confessing to do?  Do it?  Truth to hang on to? Grab hold!
…the breastplate of righteousness—shields me from the necessity of being ‘good enough’ for the job.  It’s not about me. My hero is the Perfect One and when God looks my way, He sees Jesus, my Redeemer.
…shoes on?  I can walk in peace with God.  He’s not holding me at arm’s length hoping I’ll get my act together one of these days.  There’s been a truce.  We’re friends forever.  And that’s my story to spread!
…the shield of faith—No propaganda of the enemy can pierce it.  Taking God at His word by faith protects me from feelings that lie and every taunting accusation.  This I will believe: God is for me and He is always GOOD!
…the Spirit’s sword, God’s word.  Pick it up. Wield it well.  Use it to slaughter the foe. That’s my provision for the war at hand.
…and last but not least my greatest weapon—prayer—alert, persevering prayer all the time for every situation.
I guess that’s why I’m sitting here this morning—listening for what to pray, waiting for strength to rise, ready to pick up my sword again and do battle…

    O Thou God of all, Hear us when we call,
     Help us one and all, By Thy grace;
    When the battle’s done,  And the victory’s won,
    May we wear the crown Before Thy face.

Rouse, then, soldiers, rally round the banner, Ready, steady, pass the word along;
Onward, forward, shout aloud Hosanna! Christ is Captain of the mighty throng.
                                                --William F. Sherwin (1826-1888)

You’ll have to pardon the bold print. I got a little excited there as I could hear the strains of singing with the organ swelling in the background, from my childhood...

May God give you songs in the night and His Spirit’s ever-faithful nudges to keep on keeping on with your head held high and your hands to heaven.

“The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.
He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.  I call to the LORD, who is worthy of praise, and I am saved from my enemies.” (Ps.18:2,3 NIV)

--LS

P.S. What songs do you hear lately? Would love it if you left a note.