My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food,

and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips,

when I remember you upon my bed,

and meditate on you in the watches of the night;

for you have been my help,

and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.

My soul clings to you;

your right hand upholds me.

– Psalm 63 5-8 (ESV)

“My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food”

We here in the affluent West can’t really understand that statement, I don’t think. The thought of “fat and rich food” causes me to glance, ashamedly, at my bulging waistline.

But to David, a man accustomed to long stretches out in the wilderness who knew the feel of a taut belly, my guess is that the image here is of a famished hunger, long held off but finally sated at a board laden with good food. Only here he speaks of his soul, dining on the riches of God.

This passage speaks of safety and joy. It is the joy of a dinner with that friend of all friends – and doesn’t our laughter ring loudest then? It is the safety that is found under the wings of the most Holy, the sweet communion at the day’s end, meditating on God’s goodness as sleep overtakes us.

And it is the safety of the Father’s hand; a hand that we cling to tightly like a child. Even warriors like David understood this – surely better than we can. He had been in the wilderness, had known the feeling of being hunted; had heard the clang of his enemy’s armor, close behind, and the sound of his enemy’s horses. Yet, at the worst of times he knew the strong hand of the Father holding him, and the awesome shadow of the Father’s wings. There was safety.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

Philippians 4:8 (ESV)

People can come back. Even those who have strayed far from God. They can.

God is in control. He is. He can do anything. Anything.

Pray for the ones you know who are far away, or who are struggling. Let them know you are praying for them (and, of course, really pray). It’s both very easy, and very hard. It’s warfare.

Let them know you miss them.

Leave the ninety-nine and go find the one. Sometimes the one is just waiting to be rescued.

Don’t ever lose hope. Never. Love always hopes.

We don’t see everything that’s really happening. We don’t see what springs into action when we pray. How could we?

We only see a very small percentage of reality. By design. But God sees it all.

Our patience is very thin. His is as wide and deep as the ocean. His purposes will be accomplished through the ages and the wheeling of the galaxies. If he has chosen to start a work in someone, he is faithful to complete it, though we might not be able to see it.

When we are discouraged, we can think of him, our great encourager – the one who fills us with courage. He is the commendable, excellent, praiseworthy one. Love hopes all things and believes all things, not because love is gullible, but because love hopes in the One who makes all things possible. There is no other One who we can turn to with that assurance.

So keep praying and keep hoping. And fill your mind with what is true, and just, and honorable, and praiseworthy, and excellent.

That’s my intention.

Finally, my brothers, rejoice in the Lord.

– Philippians 3:1a (ESV)

It’s a straightforward statement. Aside from the humor I see in the fact that Paul says “Finally” here and then launches into another topic – he revisits “finally” in chapter 4, verse 8 (man, I love Paul! 🙂 – I find this to be a profound sentence.

Notice what he doesn’t say: “I hope you have joy in the Lord.” Or “May God bless you so that you have joy” (though God certainly does that).

He says, simply, “rejoice”. It’s a command.

In the midst of all our luxury and plenty, freedom and opportunity, we certainly can complain, can’t we? We’re experts at it.

And yet the command is to rejoice, not complain! A complaint carries with it a sense of misplaced privilege, and an entirely unmerited claim to entitlement. A complaint is the astonishment of a selfish soul when it discovers that it isn’t, in fact, God.

Joy, on the other hand, is the delighted response – a choice, mind you – of the heart when the fact of one’s own unworthiness is uncovered, when the smallness of who we are compared to the Lord is made clear to our minds, and we realize the utter grace with which each breath is drawn. We are not destroyed! In fact, if we know Christ, we are beloved children of the King of the Universe, adopted and redeemed.

It’s when we place that in towering perspective against our own small and petty trials, claims, and conceits that complaints die away and joy takes root.

Joy is a practice. And when life comes crashing down, and our world crumbles around us, it’s a choice we can still make, if we have trained our hearts to sing its song.

When my world crumbles, may I respond with joy, beyoond the comprehension of a world that slouches in darkness.

Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Let those of us who are mature think this way, and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you. Only let us hold true to what we have attained.

– Philippians 3:12-16 (ESV)

Focus . . .

You can almost hear the strong footfalls.

Pressing on . . .

The labored and yet full breaths being drawn and then exhaled, almost like laughter; the sturdy beat of the heart . . .

I will be teaching this passage this Sunday in the GAP class. I haven’t really started studying it, but upon this most recent reading I am struck by the immediacy of the language, by the beautiful mix of humility and confidence (yes, they can go together!), by the life that pushes through the dead page.

I’m hit with the athletic flow of the words, with the fluid strength of the theme espoused by Paul. I’m intrigued and emboldened by the future and the past that is encased in this passage, as in this single statement:

“I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own.”

I press on, because Christ has made me his own. I have not obtained perfection, but yet I hold true to what I have attained. God has won the victory, and I run, joyfully and with strength and confidence derived only from the one from whom those heavenly characteristics, in their purest forms, flow.

And if you don’t feel this way (as I often don’t) you just haven’t grasped the truth yet.

Yet.

“and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you.”

There’s really no question in the matter anymore. God has done it all. You have attained the victory that Christ won for you.

Now.

Run!

In Philippians 2 Paul recites what many believe are the words to an ancient Christian hymn, the Carmen Christi

Though I may write more about this later, I think for now I’ll just let this hymn speak for itself:

There’s a little ash tree in our backyard that I planted a few years ago. Every year it seems to be a late bloomer. Of course, in Houston anything that hasn’t leafed out by the end of March is a late-bloomer.

As of last week, the tree was still bare of leaves. I was convinced that it had died. It certainly looked dead, and it showed no signs of life; no greening, no budding, nothing.

Yesterday Jill mentioned to me that she had seen a leaf on the tree. Incredulous, I went to take a look and found that the little tree is indeed alive, and will burst forth with leaves soon! Just since yesterday several more have sprouted.

This reminded me of something: there are people I know who are far away from God right now, or who are drifting away. Some have been on my heart and prayers a lot recently, because they were once so full of life, and now they appear dead. It’s hard to see that. It hurts.

But appearances can be deceiving, and not every dry, brittle tree devoid of leaves is dead. Some of them have life, ready to burst, just underneath the surface.

And even if dead, they can be raised. Jesus can do anything!

Today is Good Friday. I am reminded of something someone said to me in my first year as a Christian: it was Easter, and they said “This is really what it’s

all about”.

Everyone, this is really what it’s all about! Easter is the turning point of history, the culmination of a rescue mission that was planned before the foundation of the world. An act of love and sacrifice: the worthiest One dying for those who were completely unworthy so that they could be made worthy in Him and glorify Him forever. Easter confounds the wise, just as it confounded (and continues to confound) our ancient enemy satan who believed that he had us and the world as well to call his own. It was all wrenched from him on that first Easter Sunday, as our Hero, our beloved Savior burst forth from the tomb, alive forever!

And they sang a new song, saying,

“Worthy are you to take the scroll

and to open its seals,

for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God

from every tribe and language and people and nation,

and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God,

and they shall reign on the earth.”

Then I looked, and I heard around the throne and the living creatures and the elders the voice of many angels, numbering myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands, saying with a loud voice, “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!” And I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, saying, “To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!” And the four living creatures said, “Amen!” and the elders fell down and worshiped.

– Revelation 5:9-14 (ESV)

For believers . . .

This thought came to me while reading Romans 8 with the GAP class on Sunday:

We all want to know God’s will for our life (as we phrase it), and we are deeply interested in our destiny. Not necessarily our eternal destiny, although that does have a way of gripping the mind at times too. But we want to know where we’re headed in this life. Young people and students want to live epic lives. Speaking as a man, I know that many men want a destiny of significance – men want to matter. Many singles dream of their destiny of marital bliss. Wives and mothers often dream of a destiny beyond the routine daily workload they carry. Many of us hope we are destined for greatness.

And with all that we’re still shooting too low.

Here’s our destiny, straight out of the Bible:

For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers.

Romans 8:29 (ESV)

Unfortunately, it’s hard for many of us to read that passage without tripping over “he also predestined” as it pertains to election, God’s sovereignty, and similar topics. While that is important, it’s not, in my opinion, the point here. Because what this verse tells us is our destiny.

Our destiny as children of God is to be conformed to the image of his Son. To be like Jesus. And that doesn’t mean to be better, or to be good, although if we’re like Jesus we will most certainly be better than we are; the aim here isn’t to become a new and improved version of yourself, although improvement for most of us would be very much welcomed.

No, we are destined to be like Jesus. This goes beyond self-improvement to the complete overthrow of who we are now. As someone once said to me, we are not to turn over a new leaf, but rather to become a new leaf. Our Father is patient, yet amazingly focused and fiercely dedicated to the tearing down, destruction, and razing of our brokenness and the rebuilding of our lives into the image of his Son. To be conformed to his image, resurrecting from the tomb of our fallenness into a life such as we’ve never known. In case you’ve ever wondered, that’s God’s plan for your life.

And he will bring it to pass.

Because it’s your destiny!

Who can discern his errors?

– Psalm 19:12a

Just half of one verse, but what a statement.

The thought hit me tonight that the process of sanctification is often a microcosm of progressive revelation, focused down on the person we know both the best and the least. Ourselves.

Do you notice sins in yourself that you never would have considered to be a problem earlier in your Christian maturity? And hopefully not in the self-flagellating, guilt-ridden frame that we sometimes fall into, like those who have no hope. But rather with the almost detached, spiritual wisdom that comes from God and says “this is not of me”.

May God help me discern my errors, and arise from them.