“The hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth; for the Father is seeking such to worship Him. God is Spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth." [John 4:23-24]
In our worship, we speak the truths that are in alignment with the horizon of heaven. There is something about the truth revealed in scripture that realigns, not just to our perceptions, but us to heaven’s gravity. Only then is it possible to walk uprightly.
Maybe this is part of what Jesus meant by worshipping God in spirit and in truth. As we hear God’s word, the Holy Spirit helps us understand it and aligns us with the truth. We worship God with spirits that have been filled with truth and realigned to truth.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
The Spirit of Truth, Conclusion
“The Spirit and the Gifts are Ours Through Him Who With Us Sideth”
Have you ever wished that you could spend a day with Christ? The disciples traveled with him, shared meals with him, slept under the same roof with him. I’ve often thought how easy it would be to trust in God if I’d had the advantage, as Thomas did, of seeing and feeling the wounds of the cross.
However, Christ himself did not share this opinion. He said it was very important for him to go away because he was going to send the Holy Spirit to be with us. The work of the Holy Spirit in the people of God is indispensable. Like all of God’s works, the sending of the Spirit to the church was unimprovably good.
However, over the past 100 years or so, the church has been weakened by disagreements about the work of the Holy Spirit in the present age. Some Christians have become so open to spiritual things that they’ve forgotten that the scripture commands us to try the spirits to see if they are from God. Others have developed a severe allergy to all things supernatural—forgetting that that which is born of flesh is flesh and that which is born of spirit is spirit. The Christian life is profoundly spiritual in nature. But there are many spirits, and not all are from God.
If you look back at the work of Christians who lived more than a hundred years ago, you’ll find them writing with clarity on topics that now have the air of controversy. To map out some of what I think out to be common ground for the church on the present-day ministry of the Holy Spirit, I turned to the work of Christians whose views on the subject weren’t tainted by the controversies of the past century. Much of what I have to say draws heavily from the structure and content of an essay by the Puritan writer, John Owen, on “The Things in Which We Have Communion in the Holy Spirit.”
As I said in previous chapters, we need the truth that comes from God at all times. This need is most desperately felt in times of affliction. God has given us his Holy Bible as the only authoritative source of this truth. He has also given us his Holy Spirit to help us understand the truth that comes from God, to align ourselves with its heavenly perspective, and to walk in its way. Owen’s essay has much to say on the Spirit’s work to reveal the truth in scripture, refine Christians based on this truth, and empower us to walk in its ways.
• reveal: teaching us the meaning of scripture, helping us to remember the words and promises of Christ when they are most needed, and convincing us that they apply to us because we are God’s dearly loved children
• refine: helping us to pray correctly and effectively and leading us in the ways of God
• empower: serving as a sign that someday we will live in the presence of God without sin and sorrow, bringing joy to our hearts, and comforting us in our affliction
The Holy Spirit Reveals Truth
“When…the Spirit of truth has come, He will guide you into all truth.” [John 16:13] The Holy Spirit reveals God’s truth to us, not by providing us with new scripture, but by shedding light on the scripture that God has already given us. I have read and sung the words, “O God, you are my God,” many times over the 43 years of my Christian life. It was not until this past year that I learned the significance of knowing, when your life is crashing down around your feet, that God is YOUR God. Now, it is like a light has gone on. Everywhere I look in scripture, I find this vital truth that was there all along: through the gospel, the great God who is spoken of in scripture is MY God. As Owen wrote, if we are to receive the truth of scripture, its spiritual meaning must be communicated to us by the Holy Spirit. This is one of the present-day ministries of the Holy Spirit that sustain us in affliction. There are many others.
“The Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all things that I said to you.” [John 14:26] Although this promise applied directly to the Apostles who wrote the gospels and letters of the New Testament, Owen notes that it was also spoken for the “comfort of believers.” The promises of Christ had little effect on the hearts and lives of the Apostles when they first heard them. The same is often true of us as we read the words of scripture. But when God’s truth is brought to mind by the Holy Spirit in times of affliction, they produce joy and comfort. “A believer may be in the saddest and darkest condition imaginable,” writes Owen. “Sometimes the heavens are black over them and the earth trembles under them. Disasters and distresses appear which are so full of horror and darkness that they are tempted to give up in despair.” But when the Spirit “…brings to mind the promises of Christ for our comfort, neither Satan nor man, neither sin nor the world, nor even death itself shall take away our comfort…Thus,” he writes, “believers are not dependent upon outward circumstances for their happiness.”
“The love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” [Romans 5:5] God’s love for us is much more powerful and constant than our love for him because it is grounded, not in the inconstancy of our behavior but in his own unchangeable character. His love for us includes his will to do us good and our acceptance and approval by him. In times of affliction, we’re tempted to doubt God’s love for us. But in the darkest of hours, the Holy Spirit is able to persuade us of God’s love so thoroughly, Owen writes, “that our souls are filled with joy and comfort. This is his work and he does it effectively.”
“You did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, ‘Abba, Father.’ The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God.” [Romans 8:15-16] It is not uncommon, in times of trouble, for the Christian to wonder if he belongs to God or not. We look for evidence that in our lives and in scripture to help us maintain our belief that we are God’s children, but, as Owen writes, the devil accuses us and “opposes us with all his might.” It is the work of the Spirit, however, to assure us, in our hearts, of the truth of what we find in scripture, convincing us that we are really God’s and he is really ours.
In affliction, most children of God will at some point question their standing with God, and doubt their adoption by God. In most legal systems, there is some sort of paperwork to verify that a valid adoption has taken place, “but it is God’s prerogative, when he adopts, to give a spirit of adoption-the nature of children. The Spirit of adoption works in the children of God a filial love to God as a Father, a delight in him, and a dependence upon him, as a Father. A sanctified soul bears the image of God, as the child bears the image of the father. Whereby we cry, Abba, Father. Praying is here called crying, which is not only an earnest, but a natural expression of desire; children that cannot speak vent their desires by crying.” [Matthew Henry]
The Spirit Refines Us
“And I will pour on the house of David and on the inhabitants of Jerusalem the Spirit of grace and supplication.” [Zechariah 12:10] Owen writes that, when we don’t know how we should pray, the “Spirit of Supplication” helps us do this by “exalting the faculties of the soul,” enabling us “to pray rightly and effectively.” By bringing to remembrance the promises of Scripture, he helps us pray as we ought to pray, asking for the things that have been promised to us. He helps us pray in faith, asking and not doubting the trustworthiness of him to whom we pray. In my own experience, this help is something I can sense. I have come with a deep sense of need, but with weak faith and no real idea of what to say or even where to start. Sometimes, I read a written prayer or use a Psalm to guide me in my prayers. But on occasions, in the middle of a rambling prayer, or a written prayer, or a prayer guided by the scripture, the Holy Spirit has filled me with faith and given me the words to express my needs to God.
In times of affliction, listen to the voice of the Spirit who tells you that God is your God. As the Spirit prompts you, cry out, “Abba, father,” like the child that you are. When you are weak and don’t even know how to pray, let the Holy Spirit help you, making intercession for you with groaning that words can’t express. [Romans 8:26] Referring to this passage, Matthew Henry writes of times when we’re “in such a hurry with temptations and troubles, we know not what to say, nor how to express ourselves.” In such times, he says, the Holy Spirit intercedes for us “with groans that cannot be uttered.” This is how Hannah prayed (1 Samuel 1:13). The priest who saw her thought she was drunk. But such prayers and the holy, humble boldness in which we pray them is the work of the Spirit.
“Having believed, you were sealed with the Holy Spirit of promise, who is the guarantee of our inheritance.” [Ephesians 1:13-14] This work of the Spirit is in a way invisible to us. It is important, though, because it tells us the implications of all of his more visible workings: God has placed his mark on us. The practical implication is this: when we see the Spirit at work in any way, we should interpret this as evidence that God has marked us as his. It is a guarantee of the inheritance that is to come. But there’s more to it than this. When you write your name inside a book, you can’t return it to the bookstore for a refund. You have permanently marked it out as yours. In the same way, we are sealed by the Holy Spirit, not just to give us an assurance of the heart, but to give us safety, body and soul, as property of God, purchased by God with the blood of his son. This hidden work of the Spirit in marking us as God should allow us to give ourselves up to the care of God. The weak do not benefit from a religion that relies on their ability to hold onto it, but they do benefit from the gospel that seals us as God’s who will hold onto us in trials, weakness, and fears.
“God, Your God, has anointed you with the oil of gladness.” [Hebrews 1:9] The Holy Spirit is the oil of gladness and he brings joy to us. The Holy Spirit brings us this joy when we first receive the word of God. The Thessalonians “became followers of us and of the Lord, having received the word in much affliction, with joy of the Holy Spirit.” [1Thessalonians 1:6] He continues bringing this joy to us throughout our Christian lives through his other works: assuring us of the love of God, our acceptance with God, our adoption into his family. “When we think about this,” Owen writes, “the Holy Spirit brings the truth home to us with joy.”
And sometimes, he writes, “the Holy Spirit produces joy in the hearts of believers directly without using any other means…He secretly injects this joy into the soul, driving away all fears and sorrows, filling it with gladness and causing it to exult, sometimes with unspeakable raptures of the mind.”
“The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” [Galatians 5:22-23] The ongoing work of the Spirit in us is to make us like Christ. The fruit of his work is the increase of the attributes of God in us. In times of trouble, the sin that was so enticing is seen for what it really is—something that stands between us and the good things of God, an ugly and destructive diversion from our ultimate happiness. “Before I was afflicted, I went astray.” [Psalm 119:67]
The Holy Spirit Empowers Us to Walk in God’s Ways
“When the Spirit of truth has come, He will guide you into all truth.” I come back to this passage in the end to make another important point: the truth of God is not information to be learned, but a path to walk in. Our need for the truth of God in all of life is the central focus of Psalm 119. Its blessings are pronounced, not on those who know God’s ways but those who walk in the law of the Lord (verse 1), who walk in his ways (verse 3). The psalmist asks that his ways would be directed by God (verse 5) and explains that a young man can cleanse his way by doing what God’s word says (verse 9). And so it goes. In the psalm’s 176 verses, God’s “way” is mentioned over 100 times. As Christ said, God’s truth provides a foundation, not to those who hear it, but those who do it. This will be the focus of the next chapter.
Conclusion
God gives us the truth that we need in the Holy Bible. The same Spirit that moved holy men to write these books is at work in us to ensure that we enjoy all the benefits of God’s truth. In my own affliction, the work of the Holy Spirit in my life has been far more conspicuous—assisting in my prayers, “injecting” joy into my darkest of moments, shining light on the truth of scripture, and confirming its truth to me. He convinces me that God is my God and prompts me to cry out, “Abba, Father!” in my troubles. It is for the present-day ministry of the Holy Spirit that Christ left us in order for the Spirit to come. He is here and his work in us in our troubles and our joys alike, is wonderful.
On the way to work this morning, I was listening to a sermon on Jonah. The pastor made the point that this is a book about reluctance. First, it is about the reluctance of Jonah to warn Nineveh of God’s plans to judge the city.
Jonah’s reluctance to carry this message was linked to what he knew about God’s reluctance to judge wrong-doing. When Jonah saw that God mercy on Nineveh, he was “very upset about this, and he became angry. So he prayed to the LORD, ‘LORD, isn't this what I said would happen when I was still in my own country? That's why I tried to run to Tarshish in the first place. I knew that you are a merciful and compassionate God, patient, and always ready to forgive and to reconsider your threats of destruction.’”
But the book is also about God’s reluctance to deal harshly with Jonah. In response to Jonah’s rebellion, God prepared a fish. In response to his complaints, God explained himself to Jonah.
I woke up this morning feeling well. Less than half an hour into my morning, I began to feel worse. The troubles that are pressing on me from the outside are taking a real toll on the inside. But as I listened to the truth of God being preached, there came this definite moment where everything snapped into focus. I knew that God loves me. I knew that, even in my wrong-doing, he is reluctant to judge, preferring mercy. I was suddenly filled with faith that caused me to ask God plainly for the assistance that I need in full expectation of receiving it.
There was joy.
There were tears.
And now I sit in a day not much different from the one before. My outward circumstances have not changed. But I sit thinking about that moment where the Holy Spirit powerfully and suddenly helped me to see the truth of God, trust in it, and respond to it in faith. Just as powerfully and suddenly, he filled me with joy that brought tears to my eyes.
In times of trouble, we have the written word of God and his Spirit living in us that makes that word a living word.
Have you ever wished that you could spend a day with Christ? The disciples traveled with him, shared meals with him, slept under the same roof with him. I’ve often thought how easy it would be to trust in God if I’d had the advantage, as Thomas did, of seeing and feeling the wounds of the cross.
However, Christ himself did not share this opinion. He said it was very important for him to go away because he was going to send the Holy Spirit to be with us. The work of the Holy Spirit in the people of God is indispensable. Like all of God’s works, the sending of the Spirit to the church was unimprovably good.
However, over the past 100 years or so, the church has been weakened by disagreements about the work of the Holy Spirit in the present age. Some Christians have become so open to spiritual things that they’ve forgotten that the scripture commands us to try the spirits to see if they are from God. Others have developed a severe allergy to all things supernatural—forgetting that that which is born of flesh is flesh and that which is born of spirit is spirit. The Christian life is profoundly spiritual in nature. But there are many spirits, and not all are from God.
If you look back at the work of Christians who lived more than a hundred years ago, you’ll find them writing with clarity on topics that now have the air of controversy. To map out some of what I think out to be common ground for the church on the present-day ministry of the Holy Spirit, I turned to the work of Christians whose views on the subject weren’t tainted by the controversies of the past century. Much of what I have to say draws heavily from the structure and content of an essay by the Puritan writer, John Owen, on “The Things in Which We Have Communion in the Holy Spirit.”
As I said in previous chapters, we need the truth that comes from God at all times. This need is most desperately felt in times of affliction. God has given us his Holy Bible as the only authoritative source of this truth. He has also given us his Holy Spirit to help us understand the truth that comes from God, to align ourselves with its heavenly perspective, and to walk in its way. Owen’s essay has much to say on the Spirit’s work to reveal the truth in scripture, refine Christians based on this truth, and empower us to walk in its ways.
• reveal: teaching us the meaning of scripture, helping us to remember the words and promises of Christ when they are most needed, and convincing us that they apply to us because we are God’s dearly loved children
• refine: helping us to pray correctly and effectively and leading us in the ways of God
• empower: serving as a sign that someday we will live in the presence of God without sin and sorrow, bringing joy to our hearts, and comforting us in our affliction
The Holy Spirit Reveals Truth
“When…the Spirit of truth has come, He will guide you into all truth.” [John 16:13] The Holy Spirit reveals God’s truth to us, not by providing us with new scripture, but by shedding light on the scripture that God has already given us. I have read and sung the words, “O God, you are my God,” many times over the 43 years of my Christian life. It was not until this past year that I learned the significance of knowing, when your life is crashing down around your feet, that God is YOUR God. Now, it is like a light has gone on. Everywhere I look in scripture, I find this vital truth that was there all along: through the gospel, the great God who is spoken of in scripture is MY God. As Owen wrote, if we are to receive the truth of scripture, its spiritual meaning must be communicated to us by the Holy Spirit. This is one of the present-day ministries of the Holy Spirit that sustain us in affliction. There are many others.
“The Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all things that I said to you.” [John 14:26] Although this promise applied directly to the Apostles who wrote the gospels and letters of the New Testament, Owen notes that it was also spoken for the “comfort of believers.” The promises of Christ had little effect on the hearts and lives of the Apostles when they first heard them. The same is often true of us as we read the words of scripture. But when God’s truth is brought to mind by the Holy Spirit in times of affliction, they produce joy and comfort. “A believer may be in the saddest and darkest condition imaginable,” writes Owen. “Sometimes the heavens are black over them and the earth trembles under them. Disasters and distresses appear which are so full of horror and darkness that they are tempted to give up in despair.” But when the Spirit “…brings to mind the promises of Christ for our comfort, neither Satan nor man, neither sin nor the world, nor even death itself shall take away our comfort…Thus,” he writes, “believers are not dependent upon outward circumstances for their happiness.”
“The love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” [Romans 5:5] God’s love for us is much more powerful and constant than our love for him because it is grounded, not in the inconstancy of our behavior but in his own unchangeable character. His love for us includes his will to do us good and our acceptance and approval by him. In times of affliction, we’re tempted to doubt God’s love for us. But in the darkest of hours, the Holy Spirit is able to persuade us of God’s love so thoroughly, Owen writes, “that our souls are filled with joy and comfort. This is his work and he does it effectively.”
“You did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, ‘Abba, Father.’ The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God.” [Romans 8:15-16] It is not uncommon, in times of trouble, for the Christian to wonder if he belongs to God or not. We look for evidence that in our lives and in scripture to help us maintain our belief that we are God’s children, but, as Owen writes, the devil accuses us and “opposes us with all his might.” It is the work of the Spirit, however, to assure us, in our hearts, of the truth of what we find in scripture, convincing us that we are really God’s and he is really ours.
In affliction, most children of God will at some point question their standing with God, and doubt their adoption by God. In most legal systems, there is some sort of paperwork to verify that a valid adoption has taken place, “but it is God’s prerogative, when he adopts, to give a spirit of adoption-the nature of children. The Spirit of adoption works in the children of God a filial love to God as a Father, a delight in him, and a dependence upon him, as a Father. A sanctified soul bears the image of God, as the child bears the image of the father. Whereby we cry, Abba, Father. Praying is here called crying, which is not only an earnest, but a natural expression of desire; children that cannot speak vent their desires by crying.” [Matthew Henry]
The Spirit Refines Us
“And I will pour on the house of David and on the inhabitants of Jerusalem the Spirit of grace and supplication.” [Zechariah 12:10] Owen writes that, when we don’t know how we should pray, the “Spirit of Supplication” helps us do this by “exalting the faculties of the soul,” enabling us “to pray rightly and effectively.” By bringing to remembrance the promises of Scripture, he helps us pray as we ought to pray, asking for the things that have been promised to us. He helps us pray in faith, asking and not doubting the trustworthiness of him to whom we pray. In my own experience, this help is something I can sense. I have come with a deep sense of need, but with weak faith and no real idea of what to say or even where to start. Sometimes, I read a written prayer or use a Psalm to guide me in my prayers. But on occasions, in the middle of a rambling prayer, or a written prayer, or a prayer guided by the scripture, the Holy Spirit has filled me with faith and given me the words to express my needs to God.
In times of affliction, listen to the voice of the Spirit who tells you that God is your God. As the Spirit prompts you, cry out, “Abba, father,” like the child that you are. When you are weak and don’t even know how to pray, let the Holy Spirit help you, making intercession for you with groaning that words can’t express. [Romans 8:26] Referring to this passage, Matthew Henry writes of times when we’re “in such a hurry with temptations and troubles, we know not what to say, nor how to express ourselves.” In such times, he says, the Holy Spirit intercedes for us “with groans that cannot be uttered.” This is how Hannah prayed (1 Samuel 1:13). The priest who saw her thought she was drunk. But such prayers and the holy, humble boldness in which we pray them is the work of the Spirit.
“Having believed, you were sealed with the Holy Spirit of promise, who is the guarantee of our inheritance.” [Ephesians 1:13-14] This work of the Spirit is in a way invisible to us. It is important, though, because it tells us the implications of all of his more visible workings: God has placed his mark on us. The practical implication is this: when we see the Spirit at work in any way, we should interpret this as evidence that God has marked us as his. It is a guarantee of the inheritance that is to come. But there’s more to it than this. When you write your name inside a book, you can’t return it to the bookstore for a refund. You have permanently marked it out as yours. In the same way, we are sealed by the Holy Spirit, not just to give us an assurance of the heart, but to give us safety, body and soul, as property of God, purchased by God with the blood of his son. This hidden work of the Spirit in marking us as God should allow us to give ourselves up to the care of God. The weak do not benefit from a religion that relies on their ability to hold onto it, but they do benefit from the gospel that seals us as God’s who will hold onto us in trials, weakness, and fears.
“God, Your God, has anointed you with the oil of gladness.” [Hebrews 1:9] The Holy Spirit is the oil of gladness and he brings joy to us. The Holy Spirit brings us this joy when we first receive the word of God. The Thessalonians “became followers of us and of the Lord, having received the word in much affliction, with joy of the Holy Spirit.” [1Thessalonians 1:6] He continues bringing this joy to us throughout our Christian lives through his other works: assuring us of the love of God, our acceptance with God, our adoption into his family. “When we think about this,” Owen writes, “the Holy Spirit brings the truth home to us with joy.”
And sometimes, he writes, “the Holy Spirit produces joy in the hearts of believers directly without using any other means…He secretly injects this joy into the soul, driving away all fears and sorrows, filling it with gladness and causing it to exult, sometimes with unspeakable raptures of the mind.”
“The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” [Galatians 5:22-23] The ongoing work of the Spirit in us is to make us like Christ. The fruit of his work is the increase of the attributes of God in us. In times of trouble, the sin that was so enticing is seen for what it really is—something that stands between us and the good things of God, an ugly and destructive diversion from our ultimate happiness. “Before I was afflicted, I went astray.” [Psalm 119:67]
The Holy Spirit Empowers Us to Walk in God’s Ways
“When the Spirit of truth has come, He will guide you into all truth.” I come back to this passage in the end to make another important point: the truth of God is not information to be learned, but a path to walk in. Our need for the truth of God in all of life is the central focus of Psalm 119. Its blessings are pronounced, not on those who know God’s ways but those who walk in the law of the Lord (verse 1), who walk in his ways (verse 3). The psalmist asks that his ways would be directed by God (verse 5) and explains that a young man can cleanse his way by doing what God’s word says (verse 9). And so it goes. In the psalm’s 176 verses, God’s “way” is mentioned over 100 times. As Christ said, God’s truth provides a foundation, not to those who hear it, but those who do it. This will be the focus of the next chapter.
Conclusion
God gives us the truth that we need in the Holy Bible. The same Spirit that moved holy men to write these books is at work in us to ensure that we enjoy all the benefits of God’s truth. In my own affliction, the work of the Holy Spirit in my life has been far more conspicuous—assisting in my prayers, “injecting” joy into my darkest of moments, shining light on the truth of scripture, and confirming its truth to me. He convinces me that God is my God and prompts me to cry out, “Abba, Father!” in my troubles. It is for the present-day ministry of the Holy Spirit that Christ left us in order for the Spirit to come. He is here and his work in us in our troubles and our joys alike, is wonderful.
On the way to work this morning, I was listening to a sermon on Jonah. The pastor made the point that this is a book about reluctance. First, it is about the reluctance of Jonah to warn Nineveh of God’s plans to judge the city.
Jonah’s reluctance to carry this message was linked to what he knew about God’s reluctance to judge wrong-doing. When Jonah saw that God mercy on Nineveh, he was “very upset about this, and he became angry. So he prayed to the LORD, ‘LORD, isn't this what I said would happen when I was still in my own country? That's why I tried to run to Tarshish in the first place. I knew that you are a merciful and compassionate God, patient, and always ready to forgive and to reconsider your threats of destruction.’”
But the book is also about God’s reluctance to deal harshly with Jonah. In response to Jonah’s rebellion, God prepared a fish. In response to his complaints, God explained himself to Jonah.
I woke up this morning feeling well. Less than half an hour into my morning, I began to feel worse. The troubles that are pressing on me from the outside are taking a real toll on the inside. But as I listened to the truth of God being preached, there came this definite moment where everything snapped into focus. I knew that God loves me. I knew that, even in my wrong-doing, he is reluctant to judge, preferring mercy. I was suddenly filled with faith that caused me to ask God plainly for the assistance that I need in full expectation of receiving it.
There was joy.
There were tears.
And now I sit in a day not much different from the one before. My outward circumstances have not changed. But I sit thinking about that moment where the Holy Spirit powerfully and suddenly helped me to see the truth of God, trust in it, and respond to it in faith. Just as powerfully and suddenly, he filled me with joy that brought tears to my eyes.
In times of trouble, we have the written word of God and his Spirit living in us that makes that word a living word.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
The Spirit of Truth
No further argument is necessary to prove that men do not understand the mind of God in the Scripture in a due manner, than their supposal and confidence that they can do so without the communication of a spiritual understanding unto them by the Holy Ghost. This self-confidence is directly contrary unto the plain, express testimonies of the word. --John Owen
In other words, “you’re crazy if you think you can get anything from the Holy Bible without the help of the Holy Spirit.” It is the present-day work of the Holy Spirit help Christians understand the truth, re-orient us to its heavenly “gravity,” and empower us to walk in its paths. We need God’s help to see God’s truth.
John Owen, a Seventeenth Century pastor, wrote a lot about the work of the Holy Spirit in the lives of believers to:
• reveal: teaching us the meaning of scripture, helping us to remember the words and promises of Christ when they are most needed, and convincing us that they apply to us because we are God’s dearly loved children
• refine: helping us to pray correctly and effectively and leading us in the ways of God
• empower: serving as a sign that someday we will live in the presence of God without sin and sorrow, bringing joy to our hearts, and comforting us in our affliction
In times of affliction, we are not alone. The Holy Spirit is with us and at work in us, often invisibly and undetectably but always effectually. He helps us to see, helps us to walk, helps us to change, and fills us with God’s love and joy. That’s not to say we won’t be filled at times with sorrow, bitterness, and fear. It is to say that the affliction will be overcome by God’s salvation and interrupted, often unexpectedly, with peace and joy “that passes all understanding.”
So, what does this look like in real life? I can’t answer that for you, but I can tell you what it looked like in my own life a few weeks ago when I was reading Psalm 40, which begins:
I waited patiently for the Lord; and
he inclined to me, and heard my cry.
He also brought me up out of a horrible pit,
out of the miry clay, and
set my feet upon a rock, and
established my steps.
Charles Spurgeon commented on the opening of Psalm 40: “Neither Jesus the head nor any one of the members of his body shall ever wait upon the Lord in vain.” Next to Spurgeon’s words, I wrote:
But Satan will accuse and threaten us all the while, and he will accuse God. He reminds us that is was our own sin that brought us to the pit and, for that reason, he says, God will not save us. This is an insult to God’s character and an assault upon his grace. The chief business of God in the sacrifice of his son and the present work of his Spirit is the saving of sinners.
Today, I am in a miry pit. Every step slips. Every foothold inspires confidence before giving way, as if designed to discourage. In the depths of this horrible pit, this day, Satan says there is no God; all my hopes have been misplaced.
For me, this affliction has been a time of faith assaulted by doubt. Of strength and weakness—God’s strength and my complete weakness. Of long periods of pain shattered inexplicably in moments of complete peace, faith, and joy—like a man sitting in heavenly places—moments that give way too soon to the dull ache and dread of affliction.
In 2 Samuel 16, we read about a time of great affliction in the life of David. In Psalm 63, which was written by David during this time of affliction, we see how his sorrow was shattered by truth from the Holy Spirit.
A Divine Revelation: O God, you are my God!
David’s son, Amnon, raped David’s daughter, Tamar. Tamar was the half-sister of Amnon and the full sister of Absalom. Absalom was furious with David’s failure to take action against Amnon, so he took matters into his own hand, murdering his half-brother, and running away. Again, David failed to act. He didn’t punish Absalom or forgive him, but just ignored him for three years.
Even after David’s friend, Joab, convinced David to allow Absalom to come home, Absalom lived in Jerusalem two more years without seeing his father. One day, Absalom decided he’d had enough. He evidently didn’t think he’d be able to work things out with David, so he decided to go through Joab. To get his attention, Absalom set fire to Joab’s fields.
This got his attention.
Joab spoke to David for Absalom, telling the king that his son wanted to be reconciled with his father. David agreed. Absalom came to the king, bowed down before him, and David kissed his son, but the relationship was never restored. Some time later, Absalom decided to overthrow his father and sit in his place as king of Israel. He was a powerful man with lots of influence. Much of the army sided with Absalom, so David fled into the wilderness of Judah.
On the way, David met a relative of Saul named Shimei who came out to meet David, “cursing continuously as he came. And he threw stones at David…”
David’s daughter had been raped by one son, who was then murdered by another son. David was running for his life from the murderer who was now trying to take over David’s kingdom. On the way, he met the curses and stones hurled by Shimei. These are the circumstances surrounding David's flight into into the wilderness of Judah.
At this point in his life, David wrote Psalm 63, which opens with words that are startling when you consider the setting:
O God, you are my God!
Like those two feet splashing through the streets of Wayne, New Jersey, David speaks a truth in the wilderness of Judah that changes the way we understand everything we read in 2 Samuel 16.
David contributed to his own problems. He should have done something about the rape of Tamar. He should have done something about the murder of her rapist and half-brother, Amnon. He should have addressed the many major problems with his son, Absalom. David had plenty of reasons to blame himself for his troubles.
He was running away to the wilderness, and being cursed by an enemy as he went. There was no outward evidence of blessedness or divine favor.
But the Holy Spirit is with us in our time of affliction. The Holy Spirit helped David to look beyond his failures, beyond his troubles, beyond the wilderness of Judah, to see a God who was HIS God.
A few weeks ago, I wrote this in my copy of The Treasury of David:
I don’t often doubt the truth of scripture or the promises of God that are found there. But I often doubt that they are true for me. For a long time, Psalm 54:1 was a puzzle to me: Save me, O God, by thy name. How can anyone be saved by a name?
But now I see that God’s name can be said to save because he tells us his name. The attributes revealed in the various names of God make him someone who is well able to save. But he tells his name to those he is saving. I am the Lord, thy God… We learn that God isn’t just a mighty savior, a helper, a shelter, but he is my savior, my helper, and my shelter.
It is the work of the Holy Spirit to teach us to cry out, like David, “O God, you are my God.” Charles Spurgeon wrote that David “…has no doubts about his possession of his God; and why should other believers have any? The straightforward, clear language of this opening sentence would be far more becoming in Christians than the timorous and doubtful expressions so usual among professors.”
David had many reasons to believe that God might no longer be his God. His cry, claiming God as his God, shows that David had a point of view that was aligned with the horizons of heaven. Creating this point of view within us is the work of the Holy Spirit. In times of affliction, it is a precious work.
In other words, “you’re crazy if you think you can get anything from the Holy Bible without the help of the Holy Spirit.” It is the present-day work of the Holy Spirit help Christians understand the truth, re-orient us to its heavenly “gravity,” and empower us to walk in its paths. We need God’s help to see God’s truth.
John Owen, a Seventeenth Century pastor, wrote a lot about the work of the Holy Spirit in the lives of believers to:
• reveal: teaching us the meaning of scripture, helping us to remember the words and promises of Christ when they are most needed, and convincing us that they apply to us because we are God’s dearly loved children
• refine: helping us to pray correctly and effectively and leading us in the ways of God
• empower: serving as a sign that someday we will live in the presence of God without sin and sorrow, bringing joy to our hearts, and comforting us in our affliction
In times of affliction, we are not alone. The Holy Spirit is with us and at work in us, often invisibly and undetectably but always effectually. He helps us to see, helps us to walk, helps us to change, and fills us with God’s love and joy. That’s not to say we won’t be filled at times with sorrow, bitterness, and fear. It is to say that the affliction will be overcome by God’s salvation and interrupted, often unexpectedly, with peace and joy “that passes all understanding.”
So, what does this look like in real life? I can’t answer that for you, but I can tell you what it looked like in my own life a few weeks ago when I was reading Psalm 40, which begins:
I waited patiently for the Lord; and
he inclined to me, and heard my cry.
He also brought me up out of a horrible pit,
out of the miry clay, and
set my feet upon a rock, and
established my steps.
Charles Spurgeon commented on the opening of Psalm 40: “Neither Jesus the head nor any one of the members of his body shall ever wait upon the Lord in vain.” Next to Spurgeon’s words, I wrote:
But Satan will accuse and threaten us all the while, and he will accuse God. He reminds us that is was our own sin that brought us to the pit and, for that reason, he says, God will not save us. This is an insult to God’s character and an assault upon his grace. The chief business of God in the sacrifice of his son and the present work of his Spirit is the saving of sinners.
Today, I am in a miry pit. Every step slips. Every foothold inspires confidence before giving way, as if designed to discourage. In the depths of this horrible pit, this day, Satan says there is no God; all my hopes have been misplaced.
For me, this affliction has been a time of faith assaulted by doubt. Of strength and weakness—God’s strength and my complete weakness. Of long periods of pain shattered inexplicably in moments of complete peace, faith, and joy—like a man sitting in heavenly places—moments that give way too soon to the dull ache and dread of affliction.
In 2 Samuel 16, we read about a time of great affliction in the life of David. In Psalm 63, which was written by David during this time of affliction, we see how his sorrow was shattered by truth from the Holy Spirit.
A Divine Revelation: O God, you are my God!
David’s son, Amnon, raped David’s daughter, Tamar. Tamar was the half-sister of Amnon and the full sister of Absalom. Absalom was furious with David’s failure to take action against Amnon, so he took matters into his own hand, murdering his half-brother, and running away. Again, David failed to act. He didn’t punish Absalom or forgive him, but just ignored him for three years.
Even after David’s friend, Joab, convinced David to allow Absalom to come home, Absalom lived in Jerusalem two more years without seeing his father. One day, Absalom decided he’d had enough. He evidently didn’t think he’d be able to work things out with David, so he decided to go through Joab. To get his attention, Absalom set fire to Joab’s fields.
This got his attention.
Joab spoke to David for Absalom, telling the king that his son wanted to be reconciled with his father. David agreed. Absalom came to the king, bowed down before him, and David kissed his son, but the relationship was never restored. Some time later, Absalom decided to overthrow his father and sit in his place as king of Israel. He was a powerful man with lots of influence. Much of the army sided with Absalom, so David fled into the wilderness of Judah.
On the way, David met a relative of Saul named Shimei who came out to meet David, “cursing continuously as he came. And he threw stones at David…”
David’s daughter had been raped by one son, who was then murdered by another son. David was running for his life from the murderer who was now trying to take over David’s kingdom. On the way, he met the curses and stones hurled by Shimei. These are the circumstances surrounding David's flight into into the wilderness of Judah.
At this point in his life, David wrote Psalm 63, which opens with words that are startling when you consider the setting:
O God, you are my God!
Like those two feet splashing through the streets of Wayne, New Jersey, David speaks a truth in the wilderness of Judah that changes the way we understand everything we read in 2 Samuel 16.
David contributed to his own problems. He should have done something about the rape of Tamar. He should have done something about the murder of her rapist and half-brother, Amnon. He should have addressed the many major problems with his son, Absalom. David had plenty of reasons to blame himself for his troubles.
He was running away to the wilderness, and being cursed by an enemy as he went. There was no outward evidence of blessedness or divine favor.
But the Holy Spirit is with us in our time of affliction. The Holy Spirit helped David to look beyond his failures, beyond his troubles, beyond the wilderness of Judah, to see a God who was HIS God.
A few weeks ago, I wrote this in my copy of The Treasury of David:
I don’t often doubt the truth of scripture or the promises of God that are found there. But I often doubt that they are true for me. For a long time, Psalm 54:1 was a puzzle to me: Save me, O God, by thy name. How can anyone be saved by a name?
But now I see that God’s name can be said to save because he tells us his name. The attributes revealed in the various names of God make him someone who is well able to save. But he tells his name to those he is saving. I am the Lord, thy God… We learn that God isn’t just a mighty savior, a helper, a shelter, but he is my savior, my helper, and my shelter.
It is the work of the Holy Spirit to teach us to cry out, like David, “O God, you are my God.” Charles Spurgeon wrote that David “…has no doubts about his possession of his God; and why should other believers have any? The straightforward, clear language of this opening sentence would be far more becoming in Christians than the timorous and doubtful expressions so usual among professors.”
David had many reasons to believe that God might no longer be his God. His cry, claiming God as his God, shows that David had a point of view that was aligned with the horizons of heaven. Creating this point of view within us is the work of the Holy Spirit. In times of affliction, it is a precious work.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
"Thy Word is Truth," Conclusion
A child of God cannot but greatly desire a more enlarged and experimental acquaintance with his holy word; and this attainment is greatly promoted by our trials.
The Long Psalm
In my own time of trouble, I have found much help in the Psalms and in Charles Spurgeon's commentary on the Psalms--A Treasure of David. Psalm 119 was particularly helpful. Sadly, I neglected Psalms 119 for most of my life. I thought it was (1) too repetitive, (2) too long, and (3) too repetitive. (Sorry. Bad joke.) Charles Spurgeon wrote this about people like me: “Many superficial readers have imagined that it harps upon one string, and abounds in pious repetitions and redundancies; but this arises from the shallowness of the reader's own mind.”
But in this time of affliction, I’ve read, prayed, and re-read this psalm. Its words have been a great comfort to me, sometimes quickly reviving my spirits like medicine and other times just providing nourishment like a hearty meal.
The message of Psalm 119 is that the word of God contains essential truth for all of life. Its message is simple: for all of life, we need the truth that comes from God. Each verse has two parts. The first describes some aspect of life and the second speaks to the importance of God’s truth in that setting. The descriptions of different aspects of life range far and wide. They’re like the melody for this Psalm.
In almost every verse you hear the steady percussion: we need the truth that comes from God. A number of different terms are used in this Psalm to designate God’s truth: “word,” “law,” “precepts,” etc. I think these terms are used like the base drum, snare, tom tom, and cymbals, to beat out a single rhythm. Together, the melody and percussion sound like this:
Do we hope to have a happy life? We need the truth that comes from God.
Are we in trouble? We need the truth that comes from God.
Are we oppressed by the wicked? We need the truth that comes from God.
This is a teaching psalm, written for a younger audience. Despite it’s great length, I think it was meant to be memorized. It is arranged in a way that makes it easier to memorize. Yes, all 176 verses were meant to be memorized. I have not done so, but William Wilberforce did and, in a time of political conflict, he wrote in his journal that he “…walked from Hyde Park Corner repeating the 119th Psalm in great comfort.”
It is organized into 22 stanzas that correspond to the 22 letters in the Hebrew alphabet. Each stanza has eight verses that begin with the Hebrew letter that corresponds to that stanza—aleph, beth, gimel, etc. An English equivalent would be if the first word in each line of the first stanza started with “a,” and the first word of each line in the second stanza started with “b,” and so on.
Here is my sense of the melody line that runs through this long Psalm. I learned from Psalm 119 last fall.
Aleph: The truth that comes from God makes us happy when we walk in it. “Blessed are the undefiled in the way, who walk in the law of the Lord.” Walking in God’s pathway keeps us from getting covered in the muck of life. “I would not be ashamed when I look into all your commandments.” God’s commandments forbid the things that fill us with shame.
Beth: So learn it right away. “How can a young man cleanse his way? By taking heed according to Your word.” Don’t wait until you’re older to begin walking in God’s way of truth. “Your word have I hidden in my heart that I may not sin against you.” Apply yourself to the way of truth; it will keep you out of lots of trouble.
Gimel: Trials will come. “Remove from me reproach and contempt…Princes also sit and speak against me.”
Daleth: These trials are complicated by our own weakness. “Revive me…teach me…make me understand…my soul melts from heaviness…do not put me to shame…”
He: We are really, really weak. “Teach me…give me understanding…make me walk in the path of your commandments…incline my heart to your testimonies…turn away my eyes from looking at worthless things…revive me.” I’m a total disaster.
Waw: So call on God when you’re in trouble. “ Let your mercies come…your salvation” Think more about God than the trials and to cry out to him: SAVE!
Zayin: God’s promises give us comfort and hope in times of affliction. “You have caused me to hope…this is my comfort…your statutes have been my songs.” Even God’s statutes—those commandments whose earthly benefits are not obvious, like the dietary restrictions—are the proper subject of singing. Why? Among other things, because they show us the intimate detail of God’s thoughts towards us.
Heth: God’s promises are comforting because of the nature of the one who makes those promises. “You are my portion, O Lord…The earth, O Lord, is full of your mercy.” I find myself asking for many things in my prayers, but God is what I need.
Teth: In trial, I still see good, good, and good. In the original Hebrew, five of the eight verses in this stanza begin with the word “good.” This emphasis is lost in the English translation. Even the affliction is good: “Before I was afflicted, I went astray, but now I keep your word.” In affliction, sin loses a bit of its appeal. God’s word and prayer are not duties, but necessities and privileges.
Yod: God is a mighty savior. He designed us and made us. He is faithful to bring good things to us, even in affliction. “I know, O Lord, that your judgments are right and that in faithfulness you have afflicted me.” I am not troubled by the idea that God himself sends my afflictions because of what I know of God’s character and attitudes about me.
Kaph: David’s troubles—he is at rock bottom. “My soul faints…my eyes fail…how many are the days of thy servant?” I’ve felt like that, looking forward to my death, just wanting it to be over. Sometimes, it hurts too much and too long.
Lamed: But God is eternal… Compare my focus on endings with God’s permanence: “Forever you word stands firm in heaven…you established the earth and it stands…your faithfulness endures to all generations.” These are the things we need to know. “Unless your law had been my delight, I would have perished in my affliction.”
Mem: …and his word is good… An important focus of this stanza is the effect that God’s truth has on us, especially in times of affliction. It makes us wise—wiser than our enemies, our teachers, and the ancients. It changes our heart, making us hate false ways and love the way of truth. “How I love your law…how sweet are your words…sweeter than honey.”
Nun: …but I am still afflicted. I can see because “your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” Not only do I see, but I have also “…sworn and confirmed that I will keep your righteous judgments.” Even so, “I am afflicted very much.”
Samek: There are other ways to live… Without the truth that comes from God, men are double-minded and evil, straying from God’s path.
Ayin: …but God’s way is the right way. “I see that all your ways—all of them!—are straight, pleasing, and good. All other ways are false. I hate them.” After walking in God’s good way, paths that lead through the briars and mud aren’t very appealing.
Pe: God’s way is good. God’s testimonies are wonderful. When I hear his word, it’s like the light comes on and I can suddenly see everything clearly—even the simple-minded can understand when God speaks. That’s why it’s such a shame that men don’t listen to God—“rivers of water run down from my eyes” when I think about it.
Tsadde: God’s way is morally right and true. God is righteous and his word is righteous. His word is very faithful and very pure. His word is absolute truth. Even though trouble and anguish have found me, your word is still a source of delight.
Qoph: So I pray. This is why I have the confidence to “cry out with my whole heart—hear me, O Lord!...Save me!” Your word gives me a hope that wakes me up in the morning ready to pray—even before the sun rises—I cry out to you because your word gives me hope. I lie awake at night, not in worries, but talking to myself about your word. Your word is like an ancient city, standing in splendor, build to last forever. This is why I dare to hope.
Resh: I pray expectantly. “Look at me, see my misery, and deliver me. Fight for me. Consider my troubles. Consider how I love your truth. Give me life again.”
Shin: Earthly rulers fail us, but God’s truth does not. Even the princes disappoint, but God’s truth inspires praise, love, and obedience.
Tau: So again, I pray. Listen to me. I cry for help, I praise you, I talk continuously about your truth. And it’s not just lip-service. I rely on your commandments to keep me out of trouble, I prefer your ways to the ways of this world, and my deepest joy is in your truth. Having said that, I’m lost. Please find me.
The melody line of this psalm twists and turns around hope and despair, cries of anguish and cries of praise, an earthly focus on the details of life's afflictions and a heavenly focus on the good ending that God has promised to his children. It is the stuff of real faith--not the absence of doubt, anguish, and hardship, but a way of thinking and acting in the face of those things.
The truth that is found in God's word gives us a perspective that interjects hope into hopeless circumstances and moments of joy into seasons of great sadness. This truth is found in many forms in Psalm 119:
• law, way: teachings about the paths that God wants us to walk in (torah, derek). [Note that “law,” or “torah,” more literally means instruction that point out the way forward and does not usually encompass the sanctions against lawbreakers]
• testimonies: reminders of God’s power, love, faithfulness, and mercy (edut)
• commandments, judgments, statutes: the rules and sanctions God (mitzvah, mishaptim, and ch’okim)
• precepts: teachings about the things that God places under our direct care (pikudim)
• word: the words, sayings, speeches, and hymns of God (davar, ‘imrah), and
• righteousness: God’s own righteous ways (tzedek)
The steady percussion throughout the twisting and turning melody of this psalm is this: we need the truth that comes from God for all of life.
The various terms used to speak of God's truth in this psalm makes it clear that his truth is more than just a collection of facts. It’s a way of living. Having a firm foundation for life isn't simply a matter of being able to trace out the ways of God on a map. The man with a firm foundation is the one found walking in this way. “…whoever hears these sayings of Mine, and does them, I will liken him to a wise man who built his house on the rock: and the rain descended, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house; and it did not fall, for it was founded on the rock,” Matthew 7:24-25
Conclusion
At every moment, everything we see, hear, and feel is pulling us into alignment with the bent perspective of this fallen world. Without the truth of scripture, we will see everything all wrong. In time of affliction, we will fall victim to the lies, threats, and accusations of our enemy, the devil, and be swallowed up in despair, bitterness, anger, or fear. We need the truth that comes from God, the truth that is found in the Bible. The rest of this book will show what I've learned from the Bible in my time of affliction. It will show the truths that kept me from despair.
We need something else, too. The truth that comes from God is spiritual and only those with spiritual life can benefit from it. To the Christian, God has given us his Holy Spirit to guide us into all truth. Without the assistance of the Holy Spirit, it impossible to understand the truth that comes from God, to align ourselves with its heavenly perspective, and to walk in its way. The present-day work of the Holy Spirit in the life of the believer --to reveal, refine, and empower-- is the subject of the next chapter.
The Long Psalm
In my own time of trouble, I have found much help in the Psalms and in Charles Spurgeon's commentary on the Psalms--A Treasure of David. Psalm 119 was particularly helpful. Sadly, I neglected Psalms 119 for most of my life. I thought it was (1) too repetitive, (2) too long, and (3) too repetitive. (Sorry. Bad joke.) Charles Spurgeon wrote this about people like me: “Many superficial readers have imagined that it harps upon one string, and abounds in pious repetitions and redundancies; but this arises from the shallowness of the reader's own mind.”
But in this time of affliction, I’ve read, prayed, and re-read this psalm. Its words have been a great comfort to me, sometimes quickly reviving my spirits like medicine and other times just providing nourishment like a hearty meal.
The message of Psalm 119 is that the word of God contains essential truth for all of life. Its message is simple: for all of life, we need the truth that comes from God. Each verse has two parts. The first describes some aspect of life and the second speaks to the importance of God’s truth in that setting. The descriptions of different aspects of life range far and wide. They’re like the melody for this Psalm.
In almost every verse you hear the steady percussion: we need the truth that comes from God. A number of different terms are used in this Psalm to designate God’s truth: “word,” “law,” “precepts,” etc. I think these terms are used like the base drum, snare, tom tom, and cymbals, to beat out a single rhythm. Together, the melody and percussion sound like this:
Do we hope to have a happy life? We need the truth that comes from God.
Are we in trouble? We need the truth that comes from God.
Are we oppressed by the wicked? We need the truth that comes from God.
This is a teaching psalm, written for a younger audience. Despite it’s great length, I think it was meant to be memorized. It is arranged in a way that makes it easier to memorize. Yes, all 176 verses were meant to be memorized. I have not done so, but William Wilberforce did and, in a time of political conflict, he wrote in his journal that he “…walked from Hyde Park Corner repeating the 119th Psalm in great comfort.”
It is organized into 22 stanzas that correspond to the 22 letters in the Hebrew alphabet. Each stanza has eight verses that begin with the Hebrew letter that corresponds to that stanza—aleph, beth, gimel, etc. An English equivalent would be if the first word in each line of the first stanza started with “a,” and the first word of each line in the second stanza started with “b,” and so on.
Here is my sense of the melody line that runs through this long Psalm. I learned from Psalm 119 last fall.
Aleph: The truth that comes from God makes us happy when we walk in it. “Blessed are the undefiled in the way, who walk in the law of the Lord.” Walking in God’s pathway keeps us from getting covered in the muck of life. “I would not be ashamed when I look into all your commandments.” God’s commandments forbid the things that fill us with shame.
Beth: So learn it right away. “How can a young man cleanse his way? By taking heed according to Your word.” Don’t wait until you’re older to begin walking in God’s way of truth. “Your word have I hidden in my heart that I may not sin against you.” Apply yourself to the way of truth; it will keep you out of lots of trouble.
Gimel: Trials will come. “Remove from me reproach and contempt…Princes also sit and speak against me.”
Daleth: These trials are complicated by our own weakness. “Revive me…teach me…make me understand…my soul melts from heaviness…do not put me to shame…”
He: We are really, really weak. “Teach me…give me understanding…make me walk in the path of your commandments…incline my heart to your testimonies…turn away my eyes from looking at worthless things…revive me.” I’m a total disaster.
Waw: So call on God when you’re in trouble. “ Let your mercies come…your salvation” Think more about God than the trials and to cry out to him: SAVE!
Zayin: God’s promises give us comfort and hope in times of affliction. “You have caused me to hope…this is my comfort…your statutes have been my songs.” Even God’s statutes—those commandments whose earthly benefits are not obvious, like the dietary restrictions—are the proper subject of singing. Why? Among other things, because they show us the intimate detail of God’s thoughts towards us.
Heth: God’s promises are comforting because of the nature of the one who makes those promises. “You are my portion, O Lord…The earth, O Lord, is full of your mercy.” I find myself asking for many things in my prayers, but God is what I need.
Teth: In trial, I still see good, good, and good. In the original Hebrew, five of the eight verses in this stanza begin with the word “good.” This emphasis is lost in the English translation. Even the affliction is good: “Before I was afflicted, I went astray, but now I keep your word.” In affliction, sin loses a bit of its appeal. God’s word and prayer are not duties, but necessities and privileges.
Yod: God is a mighty savior. He designed us and made us. He is faithful to bring good things to us, even in affliction. “I know, O Lord, that your judgments are right and that in faithfulness you have afflicted me.” I am not troubled by the idea that God himself sends my afflictions because of what I know of God’s character and attitudes about me.
Kaph: David’s troubles—he is at rock bottom. “My soul faints…my eyes fail…how many are the days of thy servant?” I’ve felt like that, looking forward to my death, just wanting it to be over. Sometimes, it hurts too much and too long.
Lamed: But God is eternal… Compare my focus on endings with God’s permanence: “Forever you word stands firm in heaven…you established the earth and it stands…your faithfulness endures to all generations.” These are the things we need to know. “Unless your law had been my delight, I would have perished in my affliction.”
Mem: …and his word is good… An important focus of this stanza is the effect that God’s truth has on us, especially in times of affliction. It makes us wise—wiser than our enemies, our teachers, and the ancients. It changes our heart, making us hate false ways and love the way of truth. “How I love your law…how sweet are your words…sweeter than honey.”
Nun: …but I am still afflicted. I can see because “your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” Not only do I see, but I have also “…sworn and confirmed that I will keep your righteous judgments.” Even so, “I am afflicted very much.”
Samek: There are other ways to live… Without the truth that comes from God, men are double-minded and evil, straying from God’s path.
Ayin: …but God’s way is the right way. “I see that all your ways—all of them!—are straight, pleasing, and good. All other ways are false. I hate them.” After walking in God’s good way, paths that lead through the briars and mud aren’t very appealing.
Pe: God’s way is good. God’s testimonies are wonderful. When I hear his word, it’s like the light comes on and I can suddenly see everything clearly—even the simple-minded can understand when God speaks. That’s why it’s such a shame that men don’t listen to God—“rivers of water run down from my eyes” when I think about it.
Tsadde: God’s way is morally right and true. God is righteous and his word is righteous. His word is very faithful and very pure. His word is absolute truth. Even though trouble and anguish have found me, your word is still a source of delight.
Qoph: So I pray. This is why I have the confidence to “cry out with my whole heart—hear me, O Lord!...Save me!” Your word gives me a hope that wakes me up in the morning ready to pray—even before the sun rises—I cry out to you because your word gives me hope. I lie awake at night, not in worries, but talking to myself about your word. Your word is like an ancient city, standing in splendor, build to last forever. This is why I dare to hope.
Resh: I pray expectantly. “Look at me, see my misery, and deliver me. Fight for me. Consider my troubles. Consider how I love your truth. Give me life again.”
Shin: Earthly rulers fail us, but God’s truth does not. Even the princes disappoint, but God’s truth inspires praise, love, and obedience.
Tau: So again, I pray. Listen to me. I cry for help, I praise you, I talk continuously about your truth. And it’s not just lip-service. I rely on your commandments to keep me out of trouble, I prefer your ways to the ways of this world, and my deepest joy is in your truth. Having said that, I’m lost. Please find me.
The melody line of this psalm twists and turns around hope and despair, cries of anguish and cries of praise, an earthly focus on the details of life's afflictions and a heavenly focus on the good ending that God has promised to his children. It is the stuff of real faith--not the absence of doubt, anguish, and hardship, but a way of thinking and acting in the face of those things.
The truth that is found in God's word gives us a perspective that interjects hope into hopeless circumstances and moments of joy into seasons of great sadness. This truth is found in many forms in Psalm 119:
• law, way: teachings about the paths that God wants us to walk in (torah, derek). [Note that “law,” or “torah,” more literally means instruction that point out the way forward and does not usually encompass the sanctions against lawbreakers]
• testimonies: reminders of God’s power, love, faithfulness, and mercy (edut)
• commandments, judgments, statutes: the rules and sanctions God (mitzvah, mishaptim, and ch’okim)
• precepts: teachings about the things that God places under our direct care (pikudim)
• word: the words, sayings, speeches, and hymns of God (davar, ‘imrah), and
• righteousness: God’s own righteous ways (tzedek)
The steady percussion throughout the twisting and turning melody of this psalm is this: we need the truth that comes from God for all of life.
The various terms used to speak of God's truth in this psalm makes it clear that his truth is more than just a collection of facts. It’s a way of living. Having a firm foundation for life isn't simply a matter of being able to trace out the ways of God on a map. The man with a firm foundation is the one found walking in this way. “…whoever hears these sayings of Mine, and does them, I will liken him to a wise man who built his house on the rock: and the rain descended, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house; and it did not fall, for it was founded on the rock,” Matthew 7:24-25
Conclusion
At every moment, everything we see, hear, and feel is pulling us into alignment with the bent perspective of this fallen world. Without the truth of scripture, we will see everything all wrong. In time of affliction, we will fall victim to the lies, threats, and accusations of our enemy, the devil, and be swallowed up in despair, bitterness, anger, or fear. We need the truth that comes from God, the truth that is found in the Bible. The rest of this book will show what I've learned from the Bible in my time of affliction. It will show the truths that kept me from despair.
We need something else, too. The truth that comes from God is spiritual and only those with spiritual life can benefit from it. To the Christian, God has given us his Holy Spirit to guide us into all truth. Without the assistance of the Holy Spirit, it impossible to understand the truth that comes from God, to align ourselves with its heavenly perspective, and to walk in its way. The present-day work of the Holy Spirit in the life of the believer --to reveal, refine, and empower-- is the subject of the next chapter.
"Thy Word is Truth," Part 2
You’ve Got Mail
Before Amy and I were married, I kept a shoebox filled with dozens of cards, letters, and notes that she had written to me. Some of them were just scraps of paper with something like “love you” scribbled on them. Very often, I would get out that shoebox and re-read those notes, thinking about specific words or phrases—thinking “what did she mean by this?” or “that is really sweet.” I still have many of them. I still re-read them.
The Bible is like that shoebox. It is the message from God to the people he loves. We have a duty to read the Bible and learn its contents. But the Bible is the message of God to the people he loves. We ought to approach it, not like a student, but like a member of the intended audience.
Bible study is not merely a duty or an academic exercise. It’s not the exclusive domain of “professional Christians.” It is the privilege of sons to read the words of their loving father.
In the Bible, God has provided the truth that is needed to see affliction correctly. It fills the gaps in our observation with vital truths and brings everything into alignment with the gravity of heaven.
If times of affliction, you need in-depth knowledge of the truth that God provides in scripture. You need to read it often enough and thoroughly enough for it to correct the distortions and gaps in your perception of reality. You need to have it hidden in your heart so that it can speak back to you in times of trial.
The daily, careful, prayerful, and submitted study of God’s word is essential for every Christian’s spiritual health. In times of trouble, our need to be nourished by God’s word is magnified.
Jesus came, not to the healthy, but to the sick. He came to the brokenhearted and afflicted. The contents of the Bible reflect this. Look at the Psalms, for example. The vast majority of them are written in times of trouble. The Psalms are peppered with words like “ashamed,” “afraid,” and “affliction.” They are filled with the cries of godly men who were suffering greatly, asking for deliverance, help, or just a place to hide. They are filled with the words of faith, as godly men who are suffering praise God for blessings that have not yet come.
Before Amy and I were married, I kept a shoebox filled with dozens of cards, letters, and notes that she had written to me. Some of them were just scraps of paper with something like “love you” scribbled on them. Very often, I would get out that shoebox and re-read those notes, thinking about specific words or phrases—thinking “what did she mean by this?” or “that is really sweet.” I still have many of them. I still re-read them.
The Bible is like that shoebox. It is the message from God to the people he loves. We have a duty to read the Bible and learn its contents. But the Bible is the message of God to the people he loves. We ought to approach it, not like a student, but like a member of the intended audience.
Bible study is not merely a duty or an academic exercise. It’s not the exclusive domain of “professional Christians.” It is the privilege of sons to read the words of their loving father.
In the Bible, God has provided the truth that is needed to see affliction correctly. It fills the gaps in our observation with vital truths and brings everything into alignment with the gravity of heaven.
If times of affliction, you need in-depth knowledge of the truth that God provides in scripture. You need to read it often enough and thoroughly enough for it to correct the distortions and gaps in your perception of reality. You need to have it hidden in your heart so that it can speak back to you in times of trial.
The daily, careful, prayerful, and submitted study of God’s word is essential for every Christian’s spiritual health. In times of trouble, our need to be nourished by God’s word is magnified.
Jesus came, not to the healthy, but to the sick. He came to the brokenhearted and afflicted. The contents of the Bible reflect this. Look at the Psalms, for example. The vast majority of them are written in times of trouble. The Psalms are peppered with words like “ashamed,” “afraid,” and “affliction.” They are filled with the cries of godly men who were suffering greatly, asking for deliverance, help, or just a place to hide. They are filled with the words of faith, as godly men who are suffering praise God for blessings that have not yet come.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
"Thy Word is Truth," Part 1
I hated life because the work that was done under the sun was distressing to me, for all is vanity and grasping for the wind. Ecclesiastes 2:17
Living "Under the Sun"
At the end of what has been, for most of the U.S., one of the coldest winters on record, the birds are now announcing their return and the coming of spring. My oldest son and his wife are expecting their second child in a few days. My second son and his wife are doing well in their marriage, loving one another and working together to create a good life for themselves. My third son is completing preparations for a June wedding to a Christian woman who loves him dearly. He plans to go into medical school through the Navy or Air Force so he won’t have any debt. This will allow him to serve in North Africa as a medical missionary (he’s very good at French and has just started to study Arabic). My only daughter is a senior in high school, getting ready for her prom, for graduation, and for college. As I write this, my youngest son is in Costa Rica working among some of the poorest children in that country in a program that presents the gospel of Christ through activities designed to help them stay in school. He thinks God may be calling him to a life of youth missions.
All of my children are followers of Christ. Those who are married have spouses who follow Christ. My wife is a good and godly woman. She is the best friend I’ve ever had and she’s a good friend to many others, too. She is a faithful servant of Christ. In our 29 years of marriage, I have watched her teach Bible studies, mentor younger women, pour her life into her students (she teaches fourth grade)—serving Christ in places where she receives little notice from anyone but a Father who will someday say to her, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” It is a privilege to live with her.
I have so much to be thankful for and so many reasons to be happy. “But as for me,” as Asaph wrote in Psalm 73, “my feet had nearly slipped.” I woke up at 5:30 on this Saturday morning, feeling like I can’t go on. The singing birds seem to be mocking me. In this trial that is continuing into its fourth year, God is providing my daily bread. But I find myself wanting more than enough to make it through another dread-filled, tedious day.
This is where my limited powers of observation, the skewed perspective of a fallen world, and the lies, threats, and accusations of Satan have brought me. It is a dark, unhappy place. There is much to enjoy, but the trial that is pressing upon me seems to be squeezing out all the joy of life, imposing itself upon me in a way that makes it hard to see or think about anything else.
This is the perspective of the writer of Ecclesiastes, the perspective of the merely natural man living “under the sun.” From this perspective, life feels wearisome, more boring than words can express, and as senseless as chasing the wind. It seems like “nothing on earth is worth the trouble,” and that the earth is filled with violence and trouble. The dead seem better off than the living, but those who have never been born seem better off than anyone else.
The unknown writer of Ecclesiastes says you can work your whole lifetime and, in one bad business deal, lose everything and have nothing to leave to your children. He's right.
Those who seem to have everything they want can’t enjoy it; at mealtime, they are troubled, sick, and bitter. It seems like there’s no real advantage to being righteous because the same things happen to the good and the evil, to those who honor God and those who don’t, to those who keep their promises and those who break them. All go to the grave naked and are soon forgotten.
This is what the world looks like to those who live “under the sun.” This phrase is used more than twenty times in the short book of Ecclesiastes. The point is this: viewed from a purely natural perspective, life is, on the whole, really bad. This is the perspective of the Seventeen Century philosopher, Thomas Hobbes, who concluded that the life of man is “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”
When I started writing two hours ago, my emotional state was in almost perfect alignment with Hobbes' view of life. But this view of life is wrong. A man living “under the sun” sees only part of the truth, with that little bit that he sees aligned with the gravity of a world spinning off-center and the whole thing tainted by the lies, threats, and accusations of our enemy.
Living Before God
The Christian is not bound to live out, under the sun, a life that is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short. Instead, we live our whole life before God himself, whose son came that we could have life that is fuller, richer, and more abundant than the one described in Ecclesiastes. We find a hint of this blessing tucked away in the first commandment: Thou shalt have no other gods before me.
Living under the sun, I feel hopeless in this time of trial, alone with my broken heart, like a man abandoned in prison.
Living before God, I am comforted by his word that says he is a helper in times of trial, that he’s near to the brokenhearted, that he’s a deliverer of the captive, and that he is, in all things, faithful and true.
Living before God, I am filled with his Holy Spirit who teaches me that God is MY helper, that he’s near to ME when I’m brokenhearted, that he’ll deliver ME, and that, in all things, he will be faithful and true TO ME.
The truth of God that comes through the Bible and the Holy Spirit changes the way we understand our surroundings. When you’re walking in a dark place, you’re likely to trip on things you don’t see, fall down, and end up covered in dirt or mud, bits of leaves and little sticks stuck in your hair and burrs stuck to your socks. In a dark place, it’s easy to be frightened by shapes that appear ominous when, in fact, they're only little bushes or a shadow.
God’s word is a light for our path, shining even into dark Saturday mornings like this one to help us see things clearly and correctly.
Through the light of scripture and the instruction of the Holy Spirit, we can find sure footing that makes it possible to walk “undefiled in the way” (Psalm 119:1).
What that means for me right now is this: if I don’t get a firm grasp of the truth that comes from God, I’ll miss some of the best times of my life. This rest of this chapter will focus on getting the truth found in the Bible. In the next chapter, I’ll focus on the truth that is taught by the Holy Spirit.
Living "Under the Sun"
At the end of what has been, for most of the U.S., one of the coldest winters on record, the birds are now announcing their return and the coming of spring. My oldest son and his wife are expecting their second child in a few days. My second son and his wife are doing well in their marriage, loving one another and working together to create a good life for themselves. My third son is completing preparations for a June wedding to a Christian woman who loves him dearly. He plans to go into medical school through the Navy or Air Force so he won’t have any debt. This will allow him to serve in North Africa as a medical missionary (he’s very good at French and has just started to study Arabic). My only daughter is a senior in high school, getting ready for her prom, for graduation, and for college. As I write this, my youngest son is in Costa Rica working among some of the poorest children in that country in a program that presents the gospel of Christ through activities designed to help them stay in school. He thinks God may be calling him to a life of youth missions.
All of my children are followers of Christ. Those who are married have spouses who follow Christ. My wife is a good and godly woman. She is the best friend I’ve ever had and she’s a good friend to many others, too. She is a faithful servant of Christ. In our 29 years of marriage, I have watched her teach Bible studies, mentor younger women, pour her life into her students (she teaches fourth grade)—serving Christ in places where she receives little notice from anyone but a Father who will someday say to her, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” It is a privilege to live with her.
I have so much to be thankful for and so many reasons to be happy. “But as for me,” as Asaph wrote in Psalm 73, “my feet had nearly slipped.” I woke up at 5:30 on this Saturday morning, feeling like I can’t go on. The singing birds seem to be mocking me. In this trial that is continuing into its fourth year, God is providing my daily bread. But I find myself wanting more than enough to make it through another dread-filled, tedious day.
This is where my limited powers of observation, the skewed perspective of a fallen world, and the lies, threats, and accusations of Satan have brought me. It is a dark, unhappy place. There is much to enjoy, but the trial that is pressing upon me seems to be squeezing out all the joy of life, imposing itself upon me in a way that makes it hard to see or think about anything else.
This is the perspective of the writer of Ecclesiastes, the perspective of the merely natural man living “under the sun.” From this perspective, life feels wearisome, more boring than words can express, and as senseless as chasing the wind. It seems like “nothing on earth is worth the trouble,” and that the earth is filled with violence and trouble. The dead seem better off than the living, but those who have never been born seem better off than anyone else.
The unknown writer of Ecclesiastes says you can work your whole lifetime and, in one bad business deal, lose everything and have nothing to leave to your children. He's right.
Those who seem to have everything they want can’t enjoy it; at mealtime, they are troubled, sick, and bitter. It seems like there’s no real advantage to being righteous because the same things happen to the good and the evil, to those who honor God and those who don’t, to those who keep their promises and those who break them. All go to the grave naked and are soon forgotten.
This is what the world looks like to those who live “under the sun.” This phrase is used more than twenty times in the short book of Ecclesiastes. The point is this: viewed from a purely natural perspective, life is, on the whole, really bad. This is the perspective of the Seventeen Century philosopher, Thomas Hobbes, who concluded that the life of man is “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”
When I started writing two hours ago, my emotional state was in almost perfect alignment with Hobbes' view of life. But this view of life is wrong. A man living “under the sun” sees only part of the truth, with that little bit that he sees aligned with the gravity of a world spinning off-center and the whole thing tainted by the lies, threats, and accusations of our enemy.
Living Before God
The Christian is not bound to live out, under the sun, a life that is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short. Instead, we live our whole life before God himself, whose son came that we could have life that is fuller, richer, and more abundant than the one described in Ecclesiastes. We find a hint of this blessing tucked away in the first commandment: Thou shalt have no other gods before me.
Living under the sun, I feel hopeless in this time of trial, alone with my broken heart, like a man abandoned in prison.
Living before God, I am comforted by his word that says he is a helper in times of trial, that he’s near to the brokenhearted, that he’s a deliverer of the captive, and that he is, in all things, faithful and true.
Living before God, I am filled with his Holy Spirit who teaches me that God is MY helper, that he’s near to ME when I’m brokenhearted, that he’ll deliver ME, and that, in all things, he will be faithful and true TO ME.
The truth of God that comes through the Bible and the Holy Spirit changes the way we understand our surroundings. When you’re walking in a dark place, you’re likely to trip on things you don’t see, fall down, and end up covered in dirt or mud, bits of leaves and little sticks stuck in your hair and burrs stuck to your socks. In a dark place, it’s easy to be frightened by shapes that appear ominous when, in fact, they're only little bushes or a shadow.
God’s word is a light for our path, shining even into dark Saturday mornings like this one to help us see things clearly and correctly.
Through the light of scripture and the instruction of the Holy Spirit, we can find sure footing that makes it possible to walk “undefiled in the way” (Psalm 119:1).
What that means for me right now is this: if I don’t get a firm grasp of the truth that comes from God, I’ll miss some of the best times of my life. This rest of this chapter will focus on getting the truth found in the Bible. In the next chapter, I’ll focus on the truth that is taught by the Holy Spirit.
Seeing Truth: A Footnote on Worship
Footnote: Have you ever wondered why God demands that we praise him? For years, this really bothered me. “If God is so great, why does he need to have his self-esteem pumped up by someone like me?” I really had problems with songs or passages in the Bible that talk about “magnifying” God. “If he is so great, why does he need the hype?”
The image I had in mind was of a microscope, something that makes things look bigger than they really are. Then, I heard about a researcher who used the Hubbell telescope to find something so big that it would take 400 million years for light to travel from one end of it to the other.
God demands that we worship him because he is great and we need to know that. In times of crisis, we need to know that there is a mighty God who orders the affairs of men. We’re not alone. We’re not without hope. God demands that we worship him because we need to know the truth that is made clear in worship.
Those who took their lives when the world economy melted down needed to know the truth that is etched into our hearts in worship: We are not alone. We live every moment in the presence of one who is unimaginably great.
The image I had in mind was of a microscope, something that makes things look bigger than they really are. Then, I heard about a researcher who used the Hubbell telescope to find something so big that it would take 400 million years for light to travel from one end of it to the other.
God demands that we worship him because he is great and we need to know that. In times of crisis, we need to know that there is a mighty God who orders the affairs of men. We’re not alone. We’re not without hope. God demands that we worship him because we need to know the truth that is made clear in worship.
Those who took their lives when the world economy melted down needed to know the truth that is etched into our hearts in worship: We are not alone. We live every moment in the presence of one who is unimaginably great.
Seeing Truth in Affliction
As the world economic boom turned to bust in 2008 and 2009, the need for truth became obvious. Stock prices and housing prices had been inflated by the actions of individuals, banks, and governments drunk on an unfounded economic optimism. The bubble popped and huge fortunes evaporated in just a few months.
This was especially hard for a generation who had known nothing but nearly uninterrupted economic expansion since the mid-1980s. They were ill-equipped for real hardship and loss.
Soon, the pages of the Wall Street Journal began to record the suicides of well-known business leaders. The falsehoods upon which their economic hopes were based had been shattered by truth. But they were unable to grasp the reality that they were confronted with and fell, instead, into a despair that bore no more resemblance to the truth than their optimism.
My Truth Has Holes in It
In times of crisis, we need the solid footing of truth to keep us from being swallowed up in gloom or paralyzed in fear and hopelessness. Because of sin, our five senses don’t tell us enough of the truth to provide this solid footing. This is true for two reasons. First, our hearts are defective because of sin and this affects the way we understand the things that we observe. Evolutionary science, for example, is polluted by the strong wishes of mankind to be freed from the influence of God and the burden of our accountability to him. Theories have changed much over the past 100 years or so, but the one constant is this: there is no room for God in the discussion of the origins of mankind. The problem with evolutionary science isn’t in the observations themselves, but in the heart of scientists who in the end are just people with the same sin problem as the rest of us.
But there is another problem. Because sin has placed us at such a great distance from God, many of the most essential truths cannot be observed at all. We can learn a lot about an artist by looking at his paintings, but you really get to know an artist over a cup of coffee. In the same way, we can learn a lot about God by studying his creation, but to really know God calls for a closeness that sin makes impossible.
We face our troubles with a substantial and dangerous deficit of truth, which leaves us with the comforting stories of friends and the threats and accusing lies of enemies. We need truth.
In God, we find the truth that we need. In the Bible, God provides us with the truth that is essential—the things that we have to know to thrive in good times and bad. And through his Spirit, he teaches us the truth of the things that are written and gives us to live in a way that is consistent with that truth. This is what Christians mean when they talk about faith.
Faith has come to mean a lot of very different things these days. A teacher asked a little boy, “What is faith?” and he answered, “Faith is when you believe in something even though you know it ain’t so.”
That’s one sort of faith. Another is the kind that Friedrich Nietzsche had in mind when he wrote, “Faith means not wanting to know what is true.”
To some, faith just means keeping a positive attitude. This kind of faith is related to the first because its practice usually comes down to ignoring unpleasant facts and believing things that “ain’t so.” To others, faith has some sort of mystical property, some creative powers that operate like magic.
In a crisis, a better sort of faith is needed. Unpleasant facts have a way of rearing their ugly heads, no matter how hard we try to ignore them. False hopes are dashed, leaving you more discouraged than before.
In the end, you’ll find that your faith is only as good as the object of your faith. If you put your trust in someone who is dishonest or incompetent, you’ll be sorry. God is faithful and true. Those who put their trust in him will never be ashamed for doing so.
Faith is trusting God. This trust leads us to believe the words of the Bible because they come from someone we trust. As we trust God and his word, we find them to be trustworthy—faithful and true. The faith that is needed in a crisis is the faith that brings new truth.
The men and women who killed themselves when the world economy crumbled knew a lot of true things. But there were other things, just as true as a world economic meltdown, that they didn’t know.
Well, That Changes Everything
The reporter paddled her canoe through the flooded streets of Wayne, New Jersey. It had been raining for more than a week and the Passaic River had overflowed its banks. All around the reporter and in the background as far as you could see was water. “Eight days of rain, and some neighborhoods don’t even look like neighborhoods anymore.”
Viewers of the October 2005 broadcast thought they understood the situation on that New Jersey street. The water was real and the canoe was really floating in it. The circumstances seemed dire until just then, two men walked past the canoe in water that was barely deep enough to cover their shoes.
The news anchors couldn’t control their laughter. One asked, “Are these holy men, perhaps walking on top of the water?”
“Gee, is your oar hitting ground?” asked the other.
The truth of scripture is transformational. It is not just some other true things to be added to the things we already know. Instead, the truth of the Bible changes the way we understand everything we see, hear, smell, touch, and taste.
It is a truer sort of truth and it cannot be gotten from observation. The truer truth of scripture comes splashing through our flooded streets, helping us to see everything with a new and startling clarity.
Christian faith is about truth. It is not about wishful thinking, denial, and thinking good thoughts. At its heart, it is about cold, hard facts. “If you had been there that day, you could have taken your hand and rubbed it across the rough wood of the cross of Jesus Christ—you could have gotten a splinter in your hand from the cross.” Francis Schaeffer wrote this in his book, “True Spirituality.” He was right.
In times of affliction, we don’t just need to know the truth, but we need to base our choices, choose our words, and, as much as possible, conform our moods to the truth.
Imagine a man trying to walk across a dark room. A man with night vision goggles is helping him. “You’re almost past the table. Watch out, step a little to your left, a little more. Ok. You almost tripped over a loveseat.” The table is where it is. The chair is where it is. No matter what the man believes about the room, he’s likely to bang his shins if he is wrong about the position of the furniture. Or if he refuses to trust the man who can see. Our world is filled with people with banged up lives, from our prisons to our places of business, our seats of government, and our churches.
Christian faith is about truth that transforms what you observe and new truth that cannot be observed because of our blindness and distance from God. But there is another facet of Christian faith. It is also about persistently living in a way that lines up with the truth. Real faith always shows up in our behavior.
C.S. Lewis wrote about this in his book Mere Christianity. Faith not only enables us to see the truth, but it also makes us able to hold onto it in a time of crisis. C.S. Lewis wrote about this, saying that “…faith is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted in spite of your changing moods” The sort of faith a man who recommends a dentist, he wrote, may be very different from the faith of a man who climbs into the dentist’s chair and relaxes.
For years, I knew that God loved me, that he was working good in my life through all things, that his promises to keep me were trustworthy. However, in a time of crisis, it required fresh faith, or a different sort of faith, to believe that they were still true and still applied to me. Oswald Chambers says that faith “… is deliberate confidence in the character of God whose ways you may not understand at the time.”
Truth is needed in times of affliction. New truth that can’t be observed by men deformed by sin. Transformational truth that helps us understand what we observe. It is not enough to know this truth, but faith demands that we trust it, that we live by it, and that we keep on living by it even when we’re discouraged or afraid.
Paul and Silas were beaten and thrown into prison. About midnight, they were praying and singing songs of praise to God. This was not denial. It was not wishful thinking. Paul and Silas were receiving through their senses the testimony of one set of facts. But they knew that the pain in their backs and the bleakness of their surroundings were not the only facts to be considered. They prayed because they knew that now, as always, they were completely dependent upon God. They sang hymns of praise, because the words of praise are also true. In fact, the truths that they prayed and sang spoke the final word that night in a way that transformed the lives of the jailer and his family.
The language of the Psalms is the language of godly men who felt abandoned and ashamed, frightened men who were looking for a place to hide, and men who wondered aloud and in writing how long God would forget them, how long he would hide his face from them, how long will God simply look at them in their troubles without helping. But each time, the truer truth of God’s greatness, goodness, and love comes splashing through the streets flooded with hopelessness and sorrow.
In Psalm 69, David writes at length about his troubles. “Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck!” This is how it starts. For the next 28 verses, he tells about sinking in the mire, being weary with crying, and being hated without a cause. He talks about shame, reproach, alienation, mourning, and mockery. He cries out to God again and again—“Do not hide your face from me! I am in trouble! I am poor, I am sorrowful. Come quickly.”
In the face of all this trouble, David reaches a surprising conclusion: “I will praise the name of God with a song, I will magnify him with thanksgiving.” He then calls on heaven and earth to praise God, together with “the seas and everything that moves in them.” Why? Because God will save his people.
Here’s my own version of Psalm 69:
I Will Sing
God, I’m in a dark, dark place
I feel like a man who has fallen
To the bottom of a well
With the water up to my neck
Slipping in the mud
Thick mud stuck to my head
And my hands
Wrestling against myself
Confused in the dark
Ashamed, afraid
I’ve asked you, God
To help me
To get me out of this mess
I’ve asked you, God
To help me
But my only answer
Has been the mockery
Of fools
And poisonous threats and lies
Of my enemies
My ears are covered in mud
And filled
With the voices of every enemy
I’ve ever had, shouting
And the laughter of every mocking fool
In the world
I ask you, God
To help me
Then I watch for you to come
Until my eyes go blurry
You don’t come
I ask you to help
Until my throat is dry
I cry like the broken man that I am
I cry until I’m exhausted
Until there’s no more crying left
And in the quiet I find myself
Still alone
But I will sing your praise
Sing to those who are far from you
So far that you look small
So far you can’t be seen at all
I am broken
I am poor
I mourn, I mourn
But I will sing
I am poor and full of sorrow
This is true
But I will sing of a truer truth
A truth more certain
Than the darkness of this moment
Than the pain and fear and shame
All these will be forgotten
Crowded from my thoughts
By the memories of your tender care
The feelings of loneliness forgotten
In the certain knowledge of your constant presence
Of your nearness to me
In my time of trouble
I will sing of how you heard me
And delivered me
At just the right time
I will sing of your salvation
God, I’m in a dark, dark place
Like a man fallen, slipping
Confused, ashamed, afraid
But I will sing your praise
Sing to those who are far from you
So far that you look small
So far you can’t be seen at all
I am broken
I am poor
I mourn, I mourn
But I will sing
Like David, I say in faith from my own dark place: I will sing. I know this is as true, even more true than the darkness and pain of this moment. I will sing and will have good reasons to do so. This is the truer truth that God sends splashing through my most bitter sorrows. And yours.
My Truth is Bent
C.S. Lewis, in his science fiction book Perelandra, writes of the appearance on Earth of a being from another world. The being, he wrote, “was not at right angles to the floor. But as soon as I have said this, I hasten to add that this way of putting it is a later reconstruction. What one actually felt at the moment was that the column of light was vertical but the floor was not horizontal—the whole room seemed to have heeled over as if it were on board ship. The impression, however produced, was that this creature had reference to some horizontal, to some whole system of directions, based outside the Earth…”
We learn in grade school that the earth’s axis is not perfectly upright. It is tilted by about 23 degrees. Humanity’s spiritual condition is off a good bit more than 23 degrees. Don’t take my word for it—read the newspaper. There is a serious problem.
Our whole spiritual world is tilted, with all the houses and trees, the whole landscape, and gravity itself. With everything pulling us to the orientation of this tilting spiritual world, it’s impossible to figure out which way is up using only what we see, feel, and think.
When God’s word comes to men and women in this world, it is “not at right angles to the floor.” It is aligned to a horizon that is “based outside the Earth.” If we are to walk uprightly, we have to be re-oriented to a new system of directions.
These two horizons are in constant competition for dominance of the Christian mind. Everything around us is conformed to one frame of reference while God, through his word and his Holy Spirit, is reorienting his children to true north.
Without the guidance of God’s word and Spirit, our sense of affliction will be aligned with the gravity of fallen man’s tilting spiritual world. No matter how clearly we see the details, everything tends to be falsely aligned and incorrectly understood. To illustrate, let’s look at David’s life and my own.
In Psalm 69, David captures in vivid detail what he saw of his own trouble:
The waters have come up to my neck
I sink in deep mire
Where there is no standing
I have come into deep waters
Where the floods overflow me
I am weary with crying
My throat is dry
My eyes fail…
These are the words of despair. David is in a bad spot, he can’t help himself, and God hasn’t helped him. In September 2009, this is what I wrote about my own troubles:
God has opened my eyes or as Psalm 40 says—bored out my ears. I’m seeing and hearing more about life these days than I ever cared to. Pain, fear, sorrow, despondency—that kind of stuff. As I write, I weigh 22 pounds less than I did a dozen or so weeks ago, my chest is tight, and my breaths are short. I catch myself grimacing. I’m thankful for the two or three nights each week that I can sleep for more than five or six hours. I’m thankful for the precious hours, here and there, when I feel peaceful. I’m thankful for those sublime and overwhelming invasions of peace and comfort brought by the Holy Spirit. But mostly I feel dread and sorrow.
What we see of the floor, walls, and ceiling of our problems are real enough. But the whole house is pulled to a sloping landscape by gravity that has gone wrong. Put plainly—the hopelessness that we feel is natural, but there’s something terribly wrong with our nature.
God speaks through his word and his Spirit from a perspective that is aligned to the gravity of heaven. God speaks from the perspective of truth. When we respond to God, our words and actions, like God’s, are not at right angles to the floor. A little later in Psalm 69, David wrote:
But I am poor and sorrowful
Let your salvation, O God, set me up on high
I will praise the name of God with a song
And will magnify him with thanksgiving
I included the first line, the one about being poor and sorrowful, so you could see how abruptly thoughts of praise, song, worship, and thanksgiving come into this song of sorrow. This joy-filled outburst, this anticipation of a good ending is clearly oriented to another horizon.
In September 2009, at about the same time as I wrote the lines above in my journal, things got so bad on one day that I couldn’t go to work. I thought a day of hard labor might help me, so I took a personal day to stain my deck. Early that morning, as I drove to the store to pick up a pair of rubber gloves, I began to pray, telling God about my problems and asking him to help me. I was praying a lot of prayers like that.
I had barely started to pray when, abruptly and for no reason that I can see, I found myself filled with joy and confidence. I knew, in that moment, that the promises of scripture were spoken to me. I knew that God was MY God. I was filled with faith that he had not for one moment lost sight of me or lost control of the details of my life.
A joy that was oriented to another horizon filled me. It felt like my sorrows were being pushed out from the inside, displaced by God himself as he filled me.
I’m a grumpy, bald man. I don’t cry easily. But when I parked my car at the store, I just sat and cried. After a few minutes, I knew that I wouldn’t regain my composure quickly; I didn’t want to. So I drove to a remote part of the parking lot and continued to thank God for the joy that filled me and for the certainty of his care for me.
For about 15 minutes, I sat in this heavenly place. Before long, though, I felt the old sorrows begin to return. The old sense of dread began to fill me. The orientation of the floors, walls, and ceilings of my troubles began, again, to dominate my consciousness.
I’m not saying that this is what Christian life is always like or what it ought to be like. I’m just saying that this is what happened to me on one day of my life. Into my sorrows came this other-worldly joy that for a few minutes shifted my sense of up and down. Although the sense lasted only a few minutes, it had the long-term effect of creating a persistent suspicion that there may be more to the truth than is spoken by my sorrows.
The Devil Is a Liar
There is one final problem in our perception of reality, and it’s huge. Christians have an enemy, Satan, who is actively working against our peace. He is a liar and the father of lies. When he comes with his lies, he’s speaking his native language. Within our partial and warped view of reality, the lies, threats, and accusations of Satan can be convincing.
It’s really hard to tease out the stuff that goes on inside your head. Some of it comes from God, some of it from the devil, and a good bit of it you think up on your own. Without trying to trace out the origins, let me tell you some of what I’ve been feeling, on and off, for the past few years.
For weeks on end, I’ve woken up to a feeling of dread and hopelessness. Most days, I felt sure that things were not going to get better, but worse, tragically worse.
I felt alone. “Real Christians don’t get into messes like this,” I thought.
I felt like God was not going to help me, that he was angry with me, or punishing me.
Sometimes, I worried that he might not even exist. That my whole life had been built on false hopes and, now, everything would come crashing down.
I felt ashamed. “This isn’t happening to you because life is tough, or because the world is a hard, bad place. It’s happening to you because you’re a stupid, bad person. People are going to know about this—they’ll know what a loser you are, what an idiot you are.”
In Psalm 40, David writes of God having brought him up “out of a horrible pit.” This pit is “horrible” because of the clamor. The Hebrew word has a connection to the crashing of waves, of loud noises like the roar of a waterfall. When I read this a few months ago, I thought about how “…the clamor of Satanic threats, mockery, and accusations fills my ears.” This is what I wrote in my journal. I felt like I was in a pit, unable to get any sound footing, and tortured by the mockery of my great enemy. I felt foolish, hopeless, ashamed, sorrowful, and afraid.
This is what it felt like for me, seeing only part of the truth in the bent perspective of this fallen world and assaulted by the lies, threats, and accusations of my enemy.
Conclusion
God’s truth is needed in times of affliction. It is God’s truth that will set us free from the shackles of doubt, fear, and pain.
We see in part. What we do see is distorted by the effects of sin. This distorted, partial view of reality isn’t much protection from the lies, threats, and accusations of Satan.
The truth provided by God isn’t merely supplemental. It is the essential difference between those who are crushed by affliction, those who merely endure affliction, and those for whom affliction produces advantages.
Paul wrote to the church in Corinth about their afflictions: “We wish you could see how all this is working out for your benefit, and how the more grace God gives, the more thanksgiving will redound to his glory. This is the reason why we never collapse. The outward man does indeed suffer wear and tear, but every day the inward man receives fresh strength. These little troubles (which are really so transitory) are winning for us a permanent, glorious and solid reward out of all proportion to our pain. For we are looking all the time not at the visible things but at the invisible. The visible things are transitory: it is the invisible things that are really permanent.” [J.B. Phillips 2 Corinthians 4:15-18]
In the clamorous pit of affliction, you have to decide which voice you’ll listen to, which horizon you’ll orient your life to, which view of things you’ll embrace. This is all the more difficult because we ought to give more weight to the things that are invisible, trusting in the unseen hand of God caring for you and his unseen, but real, presence with you, especially in times of trouble.
Immediately after The Fall, Adam hid from God. Now, so much that is important to know about God is hidden to us. The things that are hidden—the things we lost in The Fall—are the most important things.
In times of affliction, the things that are of the most help, the things that are permanent, the things that are essential, are hidden to us. But God reveals these things in his Word and teaches them through his Spirit. Those who are enabled by the Spirit to own this truth will find, as Oswald Chambers put it, a “deliberate confidence in the character of God whose ways you may not understand at the time.”
The next two chapters talk about where this truth may be found (only in the Bible) and how we can come to “own” it, not just agreeing with God’s Word but acting based on a trust that it applies to us. The latter comes only through the work of God's Holy Spirit.
This was especially hard for a generation who had known nothing but nearly uninterrupted economic expansion since the mid-1980s. They were ill-equipped for real hardship and loss.
Soon, the pages of the Wall Street Journal began to record the suicides of well-known business leaders. The falsehoods upon which their economic hopes were based had been shattered by truth. But they were unable to grasp the reality that they were confronted with and fell, instead, into a despair that bore no more resemblance to the truth than their optimism.
My Truth Has Holes in It
In times of crisis, we need the solid footing of truth to keep us from being swallowed up in gloom or paralyzed in fear and hopelessness. Because of sin, our five senses don’t tell us enough of the truth to provide this solid footing. This is true for two reasons. First, our hearts are defective because of sin and this affects the way we understand the things that we observe. Evolutionary science, for example, is polluted by the strong wishes of mankind to be freed from the influence of God and the burden of our accountability to him. Theories have changed much over the past 100 years or so, but the one constant is this: there is no room for God in the discussion of the origins of mankind. The problem with evolutionary science isn’t in the observations themselves, but in the heart of scientists who in the end are just people with the same sin problem as the rest of us.
But there is another problem. Because sin has placed us at such a great distance from God, many of the most essential truths cannot be observed at all. We can learn a lot about an artist by looking at his paintings, but you really get to know an artist over a cup of coffee. In the same way, we can learn a lot about God by studying his creation, but to really know God calls for a closeness that sin makes impossible.
We face our troubles with a substantial and dangerous deficit of truth, which leaves us with the comforting stories of friends and the threats and accusing lies of enemies. We need truth.
In God, we find the truth that we need. In the Bible, God provides us with the truth that is essential—the things that we have to know to thrive in good times and bad. And through his Spirit, he teaches us the truth of the things that are written and gives us to live in a way that is consistent with that truth. This is what Christians mean when they talk about faith.
Faith has come to mean a lot of very different things these days. A teacher asked a little boy, “What is faith?” and he answered, “Faith is when you believe in something even though you know it ain’t so.”
That’s one sort of faith. Another is the kind that Friedrich Nietzsche had in mind when he wrote, “Faith means not wanting to know what is true.”
To some, faith just means keeping a positive attitude. This kind of faith is related to the first because its practice usually comes down to ignoring unpleasant facts and believing things that “ain’t so.” To others, faith has some sort of mystical property, some creative powers that operate like magic.
In a crisis, a better sort of faith is needed. Unpleasant facts have a way of rearing their ugly heads, no matter how hard we try to ignore them. False hopes are dashed, leaving you more discouraged than before.
In the end, you’ll find that your faith is only as good as the object of your faith. If you put your trust in someone who is dishonest or incompetent, you’ll be sorry. God is faithful and true. Those who put their trust in him will never be ashamed for doing so.
Faith is trusting God. This trust leads us to believe the words of the Bible because they come from someone we trust. As we trust God and his word, we find them to be trustworthy—faithful and true. The faith that is needed in a crisis is the faith that brings new truth.
The men and women who killed themselves when the world economy crumbled knew a lot of true things. But there were other things, just as true as a world economic meltdown, that they didn’t know.
Well, That Changes Everything
The reporter paddled her canoe through the flooded streets of Wayne, New Jersey. It had been raining for more than a week and the Passaic River had overflowed its banks. All around the reporter and in the background as far as you could see was water. “Eight days of rain, and some neighborhoods don’t even look like neighborhoods anymore.”
Viewers of the October 2005 broadcast thought they understood the situation on that New Jersey street. The water was real and the canoe was really floating in it. The circumstances seemed dire until just then, two men walked past the canoe in water that was barely deep enough to cover their shoes.
The news anchors couldn’t control their laughter. One asked, “Are these holy men, perhaps walking on top of the water?”
“Gee, is your oar hitting ground?” asked the other.
The truth of scripture is transformational. It is not just some other true things to be added to the things we already know. Instead, the truth of the Bible changes the way we understand everything we see, hear, smell, touch, and taste.
It is a truer sort of truth and it cannot be gotten from observation. The truer truth of scripture comes splashing through our flooded streets, helping us to see everything with a new and startling clarity.
Christian faith is about truth. It is not about wishful thinking, denial, and thinking good thoughts. At its heart, it is about cold, hard facts. “If you had been there that day, you could have taken your hand and rubbed it across the rough wood of the cross of Jesus Christ—you could have gotten a splinter in your hand from the cross.” Francis Schaeffer wrote this in his book, “True Spirituality.” He was right.
In times of affliction, we don’t just need to know the truth, but we need to base our choices, choose our words, and, as much as possible, conform our moods to the truth.
Imagine a man trying to walk across a dark room. A man with night vision goggles is helping him. “You’re almost past the table. Watch out, step a little to your left, a little more. Ok. You almost tripped over a loveseat.” The table is where it is. The chair is where it is. No matter what the man believes about the room, he’s likely to bang his shins if he is wrong about the position of the furniture. Or if he refuses to trust the man who can see. Our world is filled with people with banged up lives, from our prisons to our places of business, our seats of government, and our churches.
Christian faith is about truth that transforms what you observe and new truth that cannot be observed because of our blindness and distance from God. But there is another facet of Christian faith. It is also about persistently living in a way that lines up with the truth. Real faith always shows up in our behavior.
C.S. Lewis wrote about this in his book Mere Christianity. Faith not only enables us to see the truth, but it also makes us able to hold onto it in a time of crisis. C.S. Lewis wrote about this, saying that “…faith is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted in spite of your changing moods” The sort of faith a man who recommends a dentist, he wrote, may be very different from the faith of a man who climbs into the dentist’s chair and relaxes.
For years, I knew that God loved me, that he was working good in my life through all things, that his promises to keep me were trustworthy. However, in a time of crisis, it required fresh faith, or a different sort of faith, to believe that they were still true and still applied to me. Oswald Chambers says that faith “… is deliberate confidence in the character of God whose ways you may not understand at the time.”
Truth is needed in times of affliction. New truth that can’t be observed by men deformed by sin. Transformational truth that helps us understand what we observe. It is not enough to know this truth, but faith demands that we trust it, that we live by it, and that we keep on living by it even when we’re discouraged or afraid.
Paul and Silas were beaten and thrown into prison. About midnight, they were praying and singing songs of praise to God. This was not denial. It was not wishful thinking. Paul and Silas were receiving through their senses the testimony of one set of facts. But they knew that the pain in their backs and the bleakness of their surroundings were not the only facts to be considered. They prayed because they knew that now, as always, they were completely dependent upon God. They sang hymns of praise, because the words of praise are also true. In fact, the truths that they prayed and sang spoke the final word that night in a way that transformed the lives of the jailer and his family.
The language of the Psalms is the language of godly men who felt abandoned and ashamed, frightened men who were looking for a place to hide, and men who wondered aloud and in writing how long God would forget them, how long he would hide his face from them, how long will God simply look at them in their troubles without helping. But each time, the truer truth of God’s greatness, goodness, and love comes splashing through the streets flooded with hopelessness and sorrow.
In Psalm 69, David writes at length about his troubles. “Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck!” This is how it starts. For the next 28 verses, he tells about sinking in the mire, being weary with crying, and being hated without a cause. He talks about shame, reproach, alienation, mourning, and mockery. He cries out to God again and again—“Do not hide your face from me! I am in trouble! I am poor, I am sorrowful. Come quickly.”
In the face of all this trouble, David reaches a surprising conclusion: “I will praise the name of God with a song, I will magnify him with thanksgiving.” He then calls on heaven and earth to praise God, together with “the seas and everything that moves in them.” Why? Because God will save his people.
Here’s my own version of Psalm 69:
I Will Sing
God, I’m in a dark, dark place
I feel like a man who has fallen
To the bottom of a well
With the water up to my neck
Slipping in the mud
Thick mud stuck to my head
And my hands
Wrestling against myself
Confused in the dark
Ashamed, afraid
I’ve asked you, God
To help me
To get me out of this mess
I’ve asked you, God
To help me
But my only answer
Has been the mockery
Of fools
And poisonous threats and lies
Of my enemies
My ears are covered in mud
And filled
With the voices of every enemy
I’ve ever had, shouting
And the laughter of every mocking fool
In the world
I ask you, God
To help me
Then I watch for you to come
Until my eyes go blurry
You don’t come
I ask you to help
Until my throat is dry
I cry like the broken man that I am
I cry until I’m exhausted
Until there’s no more crying left
And in the quiet I find myself
Still alone
But I will sing your praise
Sing to those who are far from you
So far that you look small
So far you can’t be seen at all
I am broken
I am poor
I mourn, I mourn
But I will sing
I am poor and full of sorrow
This is true
But I will sing of a truer truth
A truth more certain
Than the darkness of this moment
Than the pain and fear and shame
All these will be forgotten
Crowded from my thoughts
By the memories of your tender care
The feelings of loneliness forgotten
In the certain knowledge of your constant presence
Of your nearness to me
In my time of trouble
I will sing of how you heard me
And delivered me
At just the right time
I will sing of your salvation
God, I’m in a dark, dark place
Like a man fallen, slipping
Confused, ashamed, afraid
But I will sing your praise
Sing to those who are far from you
So far that you look small
So far you can’t be seen at all
I am broken
I am poor
I mourn, I mourn
But I will sing
Like David, I say in faith from my own dark place: I will sing. I know this is as true, even more true than the darkness and pain of this moment. I will sing and will have good reasons to do so. This is the truer truth that God sends splashing through my most bitter sorrows. And yours.
My Truth is Bent
C.S. Lewis, in his science fiction book Perelandra, writes of the appearance on Earth of a being from another world. The being, he wrote, “was not at right angles to the floor. But as soon as I have said this, I hasten to add that this way of putting it is a later reconstruction. What one actually felt at the moment was that the column of light was vertical but the floor was not horizontal—the whole room seemed to have heeled over as if it were on board ship. The impression, however produced, was that this creature had reference to some horizontal, to some whole system of directions, based outside the Earth…”
We learn in grade school that the earth’s axis is not perfectly upright. It is tilted by about 23 degrees. Humanity’s spiritual condition is off a good bit more than 23 degrees. Don’t take my word for it—read the newspaper. There is a serious problem.
Our whole spiritual world is tilted, with all the houses and trees, the whole landscape, and gravity itself. With everything pulling us to the orientation of this tilting spiritual world, it’s impossible to figure out which way is up using only what we see, feel, and think.
When God’s word comes to men and women in this world, it is “not at right angles to the floor.” It is aligned to a horizon that is “based outside the Earth.” If we are to walk uprightly, we have to be re-oriented to a new system of directions.
These two horizons are in constant competition for dominance of the Christian mind. Everything around us is conformed to one frame of reference while God, through his word and his Holy Spirit, is reorienting his children to true north.
Without the guidance of God’s word and Spirit, our sense of affliction will be aligned with the gravity of fallen man’s tilting spiritual world. No matter how clearly we see the details, everything tends to be falsely aligned and incorrectly understood. To illustrate, let’s look at David’s life and my own.
In Psalm 69, David captures in vivid detail what he saw of his own trouble:
The waters have come up to my neck
I sink in deep mire
Where there is no standing
I have come into deep waters
Where the floods overflow me
I am weary with crying
My throat is dry
My eyes fail…
These are the words of despair. David is in a bad spot, he can’t help himself, and God hasn’t helped him. In September 2009, this is what I wrote about my own troubles:
God has opened my eyes or as Psalm 40 says—bored out my ears. I’m seeing and hearing more about life these days than I ever cared to. Pain, fear, sorrow, despondency—that kind of stuff. As I write, I weigh 22 pounds less than I did a dozen or so weeks ago, my chest is tight, and my breaths are short. I catch myself grimacing. I’m thankful for the two or three nights each week that I can sleep for more than five or six hours. I’m thankful for the precious hours, here and there, when I feel peaceful. I’m thankful for those sublime and overwhelming invasions of peace and comfort brought by the Holy Spirit. But mostly I feel dread and sorrow.
What we see of the floor, walls, and ceiling of our problems are real enough. But the whole house is pulled to a sloping landscape by gravity that has gone wrong. Put plainly—the hopelessness that we feel is natural, but there’s something terribly wrong with our nature.
God speaks through his word and his Spirit from a perspective that is aligned to the gravity of heaven. God speaks from the perspective of truth. When we respond to God, our words and actions, like God’s, are not at right angles to the floor. A little later in Psalm 69, David wrote:
But I am poor and sorrowful
Let your salvation, O God, set me up on high
I will praise the name of God with a song
And will magnify him with thanksgiving
I included the first line, the one about being poor and sorrowful, so you could see how abruptly thoughts of praise, song, worship, and thanksgiving come into this song of sorrow. This joy-filled outburst, this anticipation of a good ending is clearly oriented to another horizon.
In September 2009, at about the same time as I wrote the lines above in my journal, things got so bad on one day that I couldn’t go to work. I thought a day of hard labor might help me, so I took a personal day to stain my deck. Early that morning, as I drove to the store to pick up a pair of rubber gloves, I began to pray, telling God about my problems and asking him to help me. I was praying a lot of prayers like that.
I had barely started to pray when, abruptly and for no reason that I can see, I found myself filled with joy and confidence. I knew, in that moment, that the promises of scripture were spoken to me. I knew that God was MY God. I was filled with faith that he had not for one moment lost sight of me or lost control of the details of my life.
A joy that was oriented to another horizon filled me. It felt like my sorrows were being pushed out from the inside, displaced by God himself as he filled me.
I’m a grumpy, bald man. I don’t cry easily. But when I parked my car at the store, I just sat and cried. After a few minutes, I knew that I wouldn’t regain my composure quickly; I didn’t want to. So I drove to a remote part of the parking lot and continued to thank God for the joy that filled me and for the certainty of his care for me.
For about 15 minutes, I sat in this heavenly place. Before long, though, I felt the old sorrows begin to return. The old sense of dread began to fill me. The orientation of the floors, walls, and ceilings of my troubles began, again, to dominate my consciousness.
I’m not saying that this is what Christian life is always like or what it ought to be like. I’m just saying that this is what happened to me on one day of my life. Into my sorrows came this other-worldly joy that for a few minutes shifted my sense of up and down. Although the sense lasted only a few minutes, it had the long-term effect of creating a persistent suspicion that there may be more to the truth than is spoken by my sorrows.
The Devil Is a Liar
There is one final problem in our perception of reality, and it’s huge. Christians have an enemy, Satan, who is actively working against our peace. He is a liar and the father of lies. When he comes with his lies, he’s speaking his native language. Within our partial and warped view of reality, the lies, threats, and accusations of Satan can be convincing.
It’s really hard to tease out the stuff that goes on inside your head. Some of it comes from God, some of it from the devil, and a good bit of it you think up on your own. Without trying to trace out the origins, let me tell you some of what I’ve been feeling, on and off, for the past few years.
For weeks on end, I’ve woken up to a feeling of dread and hopelessness. Most days, I felt sure that things were not going to get better, but worse, tragically worse.
I felt alone. “Real Christians don’t get into messes like this,” I thought.
I felt like God was not going to help me, that he was angry with me, or punishing me.
Sometimes, I worried that he might not even exist. That my whole life had been built on false hopes and, now, everything would come crashing down.
I felt ashamed. “This isn’t happening to you because life is tough, or because the world is a hard, bad place. It’s happening to you because you’re a stupid, bad person. People are going to know about this—they’ll know what a loser you are, what an idiot you are.”
In Psalm 40, David writes of God having brought him up “out of a horrible pit.” This pit is “horrible” because of the clamor. The Hebrew word has a connection to the crashing of waves, of loud noises like the roar of a waterfall. When I read this a few months ago, I thought about how “…the clamor of Satanic threats, mockery, and accusations fills my ears.” This is what I wrote in my journal. I felt like I was in a pit, unable to get any sound footing, and tortured by the mockery of my great enemy. I felt foolish, hopeless, ashamed, sorrowful, and afraid.
This is what it felt like for me, seeing only part of the truth in the bent perspective of this fallen world and assaulted by the lies, threats, and accusations of my enemy.
Conclusion
God’s truth is needed in times of affliction. It is God’s truth that will set us free from the shackles of doubt, fear, and pain.
We see in part. What we do see is distorted by the effects of sin. This distorted, partial view of reality isn’t much protection from the lies, threats, and accusations of Satan.
The truth provided by God isn’t merely supplemental. It is the essential difference between those who are crushed by affliction, those who merely endure affliction, and those for whom affliction produces advantages.
Paul wrote to the church in Corinth about their afflictions: “We wish you could see how all this is working out for your benefit, and how the more grace God gives, the more thanksgiving will redound to his glory. This is the reason why we never collapse. The outward man does indeed suffer wear and tear, but every day the inward man receives fresh strength. These little troubles (which are really so transitory) are winning for us a permanent, glorious and solid reward out of all proportion to our pain. For we are looking all the time not at the visible things but at the invisible. The visible things are transitory: it is the invisible things that are really permanent.” [J.B. Phillips 2 Corinthians 4:15-18]
In the clamorous pit of affliction, you have to decide which voice you’ll listen to, which horizon you’ll orient your life to, which view of things you’ll embrace. This is all the more difficult because we ought to give more weight to the things that are invisible, trusting in the unseen hand of God caring for you and his unseen, but real, presence with you, especially in times of trouble.
Immediately after The Fall, Adam hid from God. Now, so much that is important to know about God is hidden to us. The things that are hidden—the things we lost in The Fall—are the most important things.
In times of affliction, the things that are of the most help, the things that are permanent, the things that are essential, are hidden to us. But God reveals these things in his Word and teaches them through his Spirit. Those who are enabled by the Spirit to own this truth will find, as Oswald Chambers put it, a “deliberate confidence in the character of God whose ways you may not understand at the time.”
The next two chapters talk about where this truth may be found (only in the Bible) and how we can come to “own” it, not just agreeing with God’s Word but acting based on a trust that it applies to us. The latter comes only through the work of God's Holy Spirit.
Why a Book on Affliction?
I’m writing this book because affliction is part of God’s plan for your life. It is not a departure from that plan. Jesus Christ learned obedience through what he suffered and we, his disciples, are not above our master. Christians suffer.
It is not my goal to convince you that affliction is anything less than misery, bitterness, and fear. When Christians are afflicted, it hurts. The pain feels like real pain. Shame and fear feel like shame and fear.
For the Christian, affliction is not anything less than misery, bitterness, and fear. It is not less than that, it is more. God is at every moment working his good will in the events of our lives, good and bad. His good will is no mystery--it is written plainly in the Bible. God's will is to make us like his son, Jesus. Romans 8:28 and Romans 8:29 go together: "In all things, God is doing his good work, which is to make us like his son."
I'm writing this from the perspective of a suffering Christian. Compared to others, I have suffered little. But I have learned that almost no good comes from comparing myself to others. My suffering feels like suffering to me. It hurts, and sometimes fills me with fear or shame. I’m sure the same is true for you.
During a season of suffering that has been one of the worst of my life—one that has not yet ended—I found that I could help others by simply refusing to remain silent.
My daily experience had come to include pain, fears, feelings of shame, and doubts about my future and my relationship with God. As an elder in my church, a teacher, and a lay leader of an international missions organization, there was certainly an awkwardness in allowing others to know about my hardship. I’m supposed to be strong. I’m supposed to be a leader.
Although I was ashamed that my life had come to include so much fear and pain, I felt like I would be living a lie if I refused to tell others of my troubles. Much to my surprise, I found them encouraged by what I had to say.
You see, they were suffering, too, and they were glad to hear that they were not alone. I may have harbored some hope that others could help me if I confessed my weakness to them. I had never expected that my confession would help others.
But it did. My honesty about my own pain, doubts, and fears greatly encouraged others. This wasn’t the result of what the Germans call “schadenfreude,” a mischievous delight in the misfortunes of others. Instead, they found comfort in learning that their suffering didn't necessarily imply that there was some defect in them. The learned this by hearing about the suffering of someone they respected--someone who faced hardship, and who doubted, feared, and hurt as he did so.
When I saw this, I decided to write this book to share what I’m learning in my suffering.
“Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear.”
We all know that things get distorted when we’re looking at them in the rear view mirror. That’s why I chose to begin this book during my time of affliction. Of course, I’ll be perfectly happy if the affliction ends before I complete the book. But I’m trying to capture as much of the grit and darkness of this place as I can. That way, others who find themselves in a dark, gritty place like this will know that someone else has been there before. Maybe they won’t feel so alone.
The hope that I offer in this book is found only in Christ. I am writing of the hope that is offered in scripture to those who have discovered the truth about themselves—that they are spiritually dead—and who have received fresh life from God himself. I am writing to the people in whom God has planted a seed that can never die (1 Peter 1:23). This book is written to the living.
If you are spiritually dead and you know it, this is evidence of God’s work in you. Dead people don’t come to such realizations on their own. If you have any desire to have this life, it is evidence of God’s willingness to give it to you. Jesus said, “No man can come to me unless my father, who sent me, draws him.” Note that he never said, “no man who comes to me will be received unless my father draws him…” but “no man CAN come to me unless my father draws him…” Your ability to come is evidence of God’s willingness to receive you. “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved…” The spiritual corpse that you have found yourself to be will come alive. The decay will stop. The stink will go away. The kingdom of heaven will come to you, not full-grown, but like a little bit of yeast that will work itself through the whole lump of your life until everything is leavened. It will be awesome.
The message of this book is to those with spiritual life, and the message is simple:
• when you suffer, you may feel alone, but you are not alone
• when you suffer, it feels like nothing makes sense, but God is still active as king over his universe (this includes the details of your life)
• when you suffer, you may feel hopeless, but God has promised relief from our sufferings (God is trustworthy)
When you suffer, you feel alone, but you are not alone. Everyone suffers, including Christians. When Christians suffer, it hurts. You may feel like God has abandoned you or is angry with you, but he is near to the brokenhearted. You may think, “But I’m different. You don’t know how angry I’ve been, or how afraid or guilty I feel.” You may feel like God isn’t near to brokenhearted people like you. That is not true. When strong Christians suffer, the pain feels like pain, it makes them afraid and ashamed, and sometimes they question God.
When you suffer, it feels like nothing makes sense. In a way, this may be true: your suffering will never make complete sense to you. But it makes perfect sense to the God who sees all things clearly, who is at every moment actively managing his universe to accomplish his great purpose of creating a new and holy nation to live with him forever. His plans are very detailed, including you and all the events of your life. Your suffering is a part of God’s plan for humanity. It is also part of his good plan for you, his unalterable plan to make you into the sort of person that is fit to live with him, “to conform you to the likeness of his son,” Jesus Christ.
God is in control of his universe and is present in every circumstance working for our good, showing everyone how glorious he really is.
Suffering improves us in many ways, improving our prayers, and the way we feel, think, and act. It helps us see what God is really like and produces solid evidence that God is at work in us. Suffering makes us like Christ by helping us to grow up as Christians and producing what may be the most reliable sign of Christian maturity—humility. Suffering makes us strong enough to help others who are suffering.
Finally, to those who suffer, God has promised relief. He has promised to be near to us, to help us, and to deliver us.
That’s the book in a nutshell.
About the author: Five years ago, I thought I’d coast through the last few years of my career with the federal government, retiring in the same year that the youngest of our five children went off to college. My wife and I planned to move overseas to help with church planting teams in Europe. Maybe teach in the same school, travel during the summers, and enjoy our lives.
Four years ago, I realized I was wrong about the coasting. Problems came into my life, big problems, one after another, from every direction. They didn’t stay for a day or a month or a year, but are still hanging around, unwelcome though they may be. Yes, I know that James wrote that we're to welcome trials as friends. I'm working on that.
Right now, though, all this has taken a toll on me psychologically and physically. I’ve been seeing my doctor over stress and anxiety related problems. I’ve been taking an anti-anxiety medication for more than two years.
For a long time, all I could see was this—bad things were happening to me and, no matter how much I prayed, they kept on happening. Period.
As this time of trouble has dragged on, I found that the Bible verses I’d turned to in the past, and that I’d taught others, began to seem a little thin. All those verses about God working good in all things and all those clever sayings like, “God doesn’t waste pain,” began to feel like clichéd slogans and cheap sound-bites.
Much of what I thought was faith began to fall away. I had faith that God would make things better when I prayed, but nothing got better for a long, long time. I had faith that God would help me to face my troubles confidently, but I became so afraid that I couldn’t eat or sleep. I lost almost 30 pounds in about 3 months. I was very sad. I was in a very dark place.
It was in this dark, sad place that I saw God. He didn’t remove me from the dark place or take away my sorrows and fears. Instead, he left me there so long that my eyes began to adjust to the darkness. It was then that I saw, at first vaguely and then ever more distinctly, what had always been true—my loving Father hadn’t forgotten me but was hard at work on my behalf, making me into the good man he’s called me to be, a man remade in the image of his own Son. He’s so far from finished, but the progress he’s making is encouraging.
I’m writing the book from a dark place for people who are in dark places, to share what I’m seeing. I know I’m running a risk when I tell you bad things about myself. You may not take me seriously. But my goal isn’t to have you take me seriously. My goal is to speak as truthfully as I can from my own perspective, because what I’m seeing there has helped me to take God very seriously. In my troubles, I’ve seen more of his glory and goodness that ever before.
I want to share this with those who are suffering because I know that God is near to the brokenhearted. I know this is true because God says this, and God is faithful and true. I know this is true because God has shown me its truth by being near to me in my own time of trouble. God is near to me. And to you.
I'll close this chapter with a word of encouragement that I shared last Christmas with brokenhearted men in a South Carolina prison. Most of these men will be in that prison for several more years. Many of them will be there the rest of their lives.
A large number have received new life through Christ while in prison. They are the church in this prison, living out their life of faith inside razor wired fences. The earthly consequences of their actions continue to bring suffering to their living victims, the families of their victims, their own families, and themselves. For these men, however, the eternal consequences of their crimes came to an end on a Roman cross with the death of God’s son, who also suffered the consequences of my own pride, envy, selfish ambition, sexual sins, and other sins too hard to confess in a book or too well camouflaged even to be seen by me.
When I received the invitation to speak at the prison, I had been struggling with severe anxiety and depression for almost six months. Immediately, I started praying that God would give me words of blessing for these men who are in very dark places.
My message had two points:
• The Christmas celebration is wonderful.
• The event being celebrated is infinitely more wonderful.
The music and food and decorations of the celebration make this “the most wonderful time of the year.” But for many people, Christmas is a time of sadness as they find themselves excluded from most of what makes this season special. They are separated by prison walls, conflict, or death from the people with whom they’d most like to share the joys of the season. They are out of work or, for other reasons, out of money and can’t buy the gifts they’d like to buy, they can’t afford the meal they’d like to serve to their family or a tree to decorate. For many, December is a time marked by depression. In the U.S., there are more suicides in December than in any month.
For these reasons and others, many people in prison and elsewhere find it hard to participate in the celebration of Christmas. They are not filled with joy, but are brokenhearted. They are not free to enjoy the lights, the music, or the food of Christmas celebrations, because they are poor, in prison, or in the bondage of debt, broken relationships, or sin.
When I finished with my first point, I looked across that crowd of men. A few were looking at me intently, nodding their heads in agreement and waiting to hear what would come next. Some of them were staring at the floor. Some were pretending not to care, but I think every man in that gymnasium knew from experience that I was telling the truth.
I had their attention. The second point of my message was this—the very things that make it hard for them and others to enjoy the celebration of Christmas make them the direct object of the event being celebrated—the coming of Christ to the poor and brokenhearted, to those in bondage, and to those who sit in darkness.
I reminded them that Christmas is more than the celebration of the birth of a baby into a poor family. Babies are born every day and the vast majority of them are at least as poor, materially, as that baby who was laid in a manger.
Christmas is about who this baby was, what he came to do, and who he came to do it for.
Jesus talked about this himself at the start of his earthly ministry. He had just been baptized by John, driven by the Holy Spirit into the wilderness, and tempted by Satan. Luke writes about what happened next:
Then Jesus returned in the power of the Spirit to Galilee, and news of Him went out through all the surrounding region. And He taught in their synagogues, being glorified by all. So He came to Nazareth, where He had been brought up. And as His custom was, He went into the synagogue on the Sabbath day, and stood up to read. And He was handed the book of the prophet Isaiah. And when He had opened the book, He found the place where it was written:
The Spirit of the LORD is upon Me,
Because He has anointed Me
To preach the gospel to the poor;
He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives
And recovery of sight to the blind,
To set at liberty those who are oppressed;
To proclaim the acceptable year of the LORD. [Luke 16:14-19]
Jesus came to preach to unimportant people in unimportant places, with a special focus on the poor, the brokenhearted, the captives, the blind, and the oppressed. Matthew has this to say about the early ministry of Jesus:
Now when Jesus heard that John had been put in prison, He departed to Galilee. And leaving Nazareth, He came and dwelt in Capernaum, which is by the sea, in the regions of Zebulun and Naphtalim, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by Isaiah the prophet, saying:
The land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtalim,
By the way of the sea, beyond the Jordan,
Galilee of the Gentiles:
The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light,
And upon those who sat in the region and shadow of death
Light has dawned." [Matthew 4: 12-16]
Jesus still comes as a bright light to those who sit in dark places, people who have lost hope and who are enslaved. Those who are least able to participate in the joy of the Christmas celebration are the special focus of the event being celebrated—the coming of Christ to the brokenhearted, the poor, the captive.
Christ came and still comes to the brokenhearted and poor, and to those in bondage. He is a bright light for those who sit in darkness.
I closed with a lesson from one of my favorite Christmas carols, “Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming,” which begins:
Lo, how a Rose e’er blooming from tender stem hath sprung!
Of Jesse’s lineage coming, as men of old have sung.
It came, a floweret bright, amid the cold of winter,
When half spent was the night.
The Bible doesn't really say what time of year it was when Christ was born. I do know that his coming was “amid the cold of winter,” in my soul. It doesn't tell us the time of day when he was born. But I do know that he came and still comes to the darkest hours of my soul—when half-spent was the night.
It is not my goal to convince you that affliction is anything less than misery, bitterness, and fear. When Christians are afflicted, it hurts. The pain feels like real pain. Shame and fear feel like shame and fear.
For the Christian, affliction is not anything less than misery, bitterness, and fear. It is not less than that, it is more. God is at every moment working his good will in the events of our lives, good and bad. His good will is no mystery--it is written plainly in the Bible. God's will is to make us like his son, Jesus. Romans 8:28 and Romans 8:29 go together: "In all things, God is doing his good work, which is to make us like his son."
I'm writing this from the perspective of a suffering Christian. Compared to others, I have suffered little. But I have learned that almost no good comes from comparing myself to others. My suffering feels like suffering to me. It hurts, and sometimes fills me with fear or shame. I’m sure the same is true for you.
During a season of suffering that has been one of the worst of my life—one that has not yet ended—I found that I could help others by simply refusing to remain silent.
My daily experience had come to include pain, fears, feelings of shame, and doubts about my future and my relationship with God. As an elder in my church, a teacher, and a lay leader of an international missions organization, there was certainly an awkwardness in allowing others to know about my hardship. I’m supposed to be strong. I’m supposed to be a leader.
Although I was ashamed that my life had come to include so much fear and pain, I felt like I would be living a lie if I refused to tell others of my troubles. Much to my surprise, I found them encouraged by what I had to say.
You see, they were suffering, too, and they were glad to hear that they were not alone. I may have harbored some hope that others could help me if I confessed my weakness to them. I had never expected that my confession would help others.
But it did. My honesty about my own pain, doubts, and fears greatly encouraged others. This wasn’t the result of what the Germans call “schadenfreude,” a mischievous delight in the misfortunes of others. Instead, they found comfort in learning that their suffering didn't necessarily imply that there was some defect in them. The learned this by hearing about the suffering of someone they respected--someone who faced hardship, and who doubted, feared, and hurt as he did so.
When I saw this, I decided to write this book to share what I’m learning in my suffering.
“Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear.”
We all know that things get distorted when we’re looking at them in the rear view mirror. That’s why I chose to begin this book during my time of affliction. Of course, I’ll be perfectly happy if the affliction ends before I complete the book. But I’m trying to capture as much of the grit and darkness of this place as I can. That way, others who find themselves in a dark, gritty place like this will know that someone else has been there before. Maybe they won’t feel so alone.
The hope that I offer in this book is found only in Christ. I am writing of the hope that is offered in scripture to those who have discovered the truth about themselves—that they are spiritually dead—and who have received fresh life from God himself. I am writing to the people in whom God has planted a seed that can never die (1 Peter 1:23). This book is written to the living.
If you are spiritually dead and you know it, this is evidence of God’s work in you. Dead people don’t come to such realizations on their own. If you have any desire to have this life, it is evidence of God’s willingness to give it to you. Jesus said, “No man can come to me unless my father, who sent me, draws him.” Note that he never said, “no man who comes to me will be received unless my father draws him…” but “no man CAN come to me unless my father draws him…” Your ability to come is evidence of God’s willingness to receive you. “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved…” The spiritual corpse that you have found yourself to be will come alive. The decay will stop. The stink will go away. The kingdom of heaven will come to you, not full-grown, but like a little bit of yeast that will work itself through the whole lump of your life until everything is leavened. It will be awesome.
The message of this book is to those with spiritual life, and the message is simple:
• when you suffer, you may feel alone, but you are not alone
• when you suffer, it feels like nothing makes sense, but God is still active as king over his universe (this includes the details of your life)
• when you suffer, you may feel hopeless, but God has promised relief from our sufferings (God is trustworthy)
When you suffer, you feel alone, but you are not alone. Everyone suffers, including Christians. When Christians suffer, it hurts. You may feel like God has abandoned you or is angry with you, but he is near to the brokenhearted. You may think, “But I’m different. You don’t know how angry I’ve been, or how afraid or guilty I feel.” You may feel like God isn’t near to brokenhearted people like you. That is not true. When strong Christians suffer, the pain feels like pain, it makes them afraid and ashamed, and sometimes they question God.
When you suffer, it feels like nothing makes sense. In a way, this may be true: your suffering will never make complete sense to you. But it makes perfect sense to the God who sees all things clearly, who is at every moment actively managing his universe to accomplish his great purpose of creating a new and holy nation to live with him forever. His plans are very detailed, including you and all the events of your life. Your suffering is a part of God’s plan for humanity. It is also part of his good plan for you, his unalterable plan to make you into the sort of person that is fit to live with him, “to conform you to the likeness of his son,” Jesus Christ.
God is in control of his universe and is present in every circumstance working for our good, showing everyone how glorious he really is.
Suffering improves us in many ways, improving our prayers, and the way we feel, think, and act. It helps us see what God is really like and produces solid evidence that God is at work in us. Suffering makes us like Christ by helping us to grow up as Christians and producing what may be the most reliable sign of Christian maturity—humility. Suffering makes us strong enough to help others who are suffering.
Finally, to those who suffer, God has promised relief. He has promised to be near to us, to help us, and to deliver us.
That’s the book in a nutshell.
About the author: Five years ago, I thought I’d coast through the last few years of my career with the federal government, retiring in the same year that the youngest of our five children went off to college. My wife and I planned to move overseas to help with church planting teams in Europe. Maybe teach in the same school, travel during the summers, and enjoy our lives.
Four years ago, I realized I was wrong about the coasting. Problems came into my life, big problems, one after another, from every direction. They didn’t stay for a day or a month or a year, but are still hanging around, unwelcome though they may be. Yes, I know that James wrote that we're to welcome trials as friends. I'm working on that.
Right now, though, all this has taken a toll on me psychologically and physically. I’ve been seeing my doctor over stress and anxiety related problems. I’ve been taking an anti-anxiety medication for more than two years.
For a long time, all I could see was this—bad things were happening to me and, no matter how much I prayed, they kept on happening. Period.
As this time of trouble has dragged on, I found that the Bible verses I’d turned to in the past, and that I’d taught others, began to seem a little thin. All those verses about God working good in all things and all those clever sayings like, “God doesn’t waste pain,” began to feel like clichéd slogans and cheap sound-bites.
Much of what I thought was faith began to fall away. I had faith that God would make things better when I prayed, but nothing got better for a long, long time. I had faith that God would help me to face my troubles confidently, but I became so afraid that I couldn’t eat or sleep. I lost almost 30 pounds in about 3 months. I was very sad. I was in a very dark place.
It was in this dark, sad place that I saw God. He didn’t remove me from the dark place or take away my sorrows and fears. Instead, he left me there so long that my eyes began to adjust to the darkness. It was then that I saw, at first vaguely and then ever more distinctly, what had always been true—my loving Father hadn’t forgotten me but was hard at work on my behalf, making me into the good man he’s called me to be, a man remade in the image of his own Son. He’s so far from finished, but the progress he’s making is encouraging.
I’m writing the book from a dark place for people who are in dark places, to share what I’m seeing. I know I’m running a risk when I tell you bad things about myself. You may not take me seriously. But my goal isn’t to have you take me seriously. My goal is to speak as truthfully as I can from my own perspective, because what I’m seeing there has helped me to take God very seriously. In my troubles, I’ve seen more of his glory and goodness that ever before.
I want to share this with those who are suffering because I know that God is near to the brokenhearted. I know this is true because God says this, and God is faithful and true. I know this is true because God has shown me its truth by being near to me in my own time of trouble. God is near to me. And to you.
I'll close this chapter with a word of encouragement that I shared last Christmas with brokenhearted men in a South Carolina prison. Most of these men will be in that prison for several more years. Many of them will be there the rest of their lives.
A large number have received new life through Christ while in prison. They are the church in this prison, living out their life of faith inside razor wired fences. The earthly consequences of their actions continue to bring suffering to their living victims, the families of their victims, their own families, and themselves. For these men, however, the eternal consequences of their crimes came to an end on a Roman cross with the death of God’s son, who also suffered the consequences of my own pride, envy, selfish ambition, sexual sins, and other sins too hard to confess in a book or too well camouflaged even to be seen by me.
When I received the invitation to speak at the prison, I had been struggling with severe anxiety and depression for almost six months. Immediately, I started praying that God would give me words of blessing for these men who are in very dark places.
My message had two points:
• The Christmas celebration is wonderful.
• The event being celebrated is infinitely more wonderful.
The music and food and decorations of the celebration make this “the most wonderful time of the year.” But for many people, Christmas is a time of sadness as they find themselves excluded from most of what makes this season special. They are separated by prison walls, conflict, or death from the people with whom they’d most like to share the joys of the season. They are out of work or, for other reasons, out of money and can’t buy the gifts they’d like to buy, they can’t afford the meal they’d like to serve to their family or a tree to decorate. For many, December is a time marked by depression. In the U.S., there are more suicides in December than in any month.
For these reasons and others, many people in prison and elsewhere find it hard to participate in the celebration of Christmas. They are not filled with joy, but are brokenhearted. They are not free to enjoy the lights, the music, or the food of Christmas celebrations, because they are poor, in prison, or in the bondage of debt, broken relationships, or sin.
When I finished with my first point, I looked across that crowd of men. A few were looking at me intently, nodding their heads in agreement and waiting to hear what would come next. Some of them were staring at the floor. Some were pretending not to care, but I think every man in that gymnasium knew from experience that I was telling the truth.
I had their attention. The second point of my message was this—the very things that make it hard for them and others to enjoy the celebration of Christmas make them the direct object of the event being celebrated—the coming of Christ to the poor and brokenhearted, to those in bondage, and to those who sit in darkness.
I reminded them that Christmas is more than the celebration of the birth of a baby into a poor family. Babies are born every day and the vast majority of them are at least as poor, materially, as that baby who was laid in a manger.
Christmas is about who this baby was, what he came to do, and who he came to do it for.
Jesus talked about this himself at the start of his earthly ministry. He had just been baptized by John, driven by the Holy Spirit into the wilderness, and tempted by Satan. Luke writes about what happened next:
Then Jesus returned in the power of the Spirit to Galilee, and news of Him went out through all the surrounding region. And He taught in their synagogues, being glorified by all. So He came to Nazareth, where He had been brought up. And as His custom was, He went into the synagogue on the Sabbath day, and stood up to read. And He was handed the book of the prophet Isaiah. And when He had opened the book, He found the place where it was written:
The Spirit of the LORD is upon Me,
Because He has anointed Me
To preach the gospel to the poor;
He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives
And recovery of sight to the blind,
To set at liberty those who are oppressed;
To proclaim the acceptable year of the LORD. [Luke 16:14-19]
Jesus came to preach to unimportant people in unimportant places, with a special focus on the poor, the brokenhearted, the captives, the blind, and the oppressed. Matthew has this to say about the early ministry of Jesus:
Now when Jesus heard that John had been put in prison, He departed to Galilee. And leaving Nazareth, He came and dwelt in Capernaum, which is by the sea, in the regions of Zebulun and Naphtalim, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by Isaiah the prophet, saying:
The land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtalim,
By the way of the sea, beyond the Jordan,
Galilee of the Gentiles:
The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light,
And upon those who sat in the region and shadow of death
Light has dawned." [Matthew 4: 12-16]
Jesus still comes as a bright light to those who sit in dark places, people who have lost hope and who are enslaved. Those who are least able to participate in the joy of the Christmas celebration are the special focus of the event being celebrated—the coming of Christ to the brokenhearted, the poor, the captive.
Christ came and still comes to the brokenhearted and poor, and to those in bondage. He is a bright light for those who sit in darkness.
I closed with a lesson from one of my favorite Christmas carols, “Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming,” which begins:
Lo, how a Rose e’er blooming from tender stem hath sprung!
Of Jesse’s lineage coming, as men of old have sung.
It came, a floweret bright, amid the cold of winter,
When half spent was the night.
The Bible doesn't really say what time of year it was when Christ was born. I do know that his coming was “amid the cold of winter,” in my soul. It doesn't tell us the time of day when he was born. But I do know that he came and still comes to the darkest hours of my soul—when half-spent was the night.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
The Advantages of Affliction: Table of Contents
1. Why a Book on Affliction?
2. Seeing Truth in Affliction
a. “Thy Word is Truth”
b. The Spirit of Truth
c. Experiencing Truth: Walking in the Light
3. You’re Not Alone: The Affliction of God’s People
a. The Fact of Affliction
b. The Feeling of Affliction
c. The Depth of Affliction
4. You’re Not Alone: God is Near to the Broken-Hearted
a. The Source of Affliction
b. The Meaning of Affliction: In the Trenches
c. The Meaning of Affliction: The View from 30,000 Feet
d. The Meaning of Affliction: You May Never Know the Meaning
5. The Benefits of Affliction
a. Affliction Improves Our Prayers
b. Affliction Corrects Our Affections
c. Affliction Corrects Our Thinking
d. Affliction Corrects our Steps
e. Affliction Helps Us See God’s Glory
f. Affliction Proves That We Have Found Grace
g. Affliction Makes Us Like Christ
h. Affliction Helps Us Grow Up
i. Affliction Helps Us Grow in Humility
j. Affliction Makes Us Stronger
k. Affliction Equips Us to Help Others
6. God’s Promises to The Afflicted
a. To be Near Us
b. To Help Us
c. To Deliver Us
2. Seeing Truth in Affliction
a. “Thy Word is Truth”
b. The Spirit of Truth
c. Experiencing Truth: Walking in the Light
3. You’re Not Alone: The Affliction of God’s People
a. The Fact of Affliction
b. The Feeling of Affliction
c. The Depth of Affliction
4. You’re Not Alone: God is Near to the Broken-Hearted
a. The Source of Affliction
b. The Meaning of Affliction: In the Trenches
c. The Meaning of Affliction: The View from 30,000 Feet
d. The Meaning of Affliction: You May Never Know the Meaning
5. The Benefits of Affliction
a. Affliction Improves Our Prayers
b. Affliction Corrects Our Affections
c. Affliction Corrects Our Thinking
d. Affliction Corrects our Steps
e. Affliction Helps Us See God’s Glory
f. Affliction Proves That We Have Found Grace
g. Affliction Makes Us Like Christ
h. Affliction Helps Us Grow Up
i. Affliction Helps Us Grow in Humility
j. Affliction Makes Us Stronger
k. Affliction Equips Us to Help Others
6. God’s Promises to The Afflicted
a. To be Near Us
b. To Help Us
c. To Deliver Us
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