I Love You Lord

Some mornings the thoughts have a problem turning into type. The meditation of the heart just doesn’t materialize into words. And so, on those mornings, I often go back through my journal and read entries from previous years and let them be my food for thought in the morning. Such was the case this morning. Came across some musings from 2011. Re-running them this morning. True back then . . . true today.
———————

January 14, 2011

Flashback . . . something I read this morning caused me to recall something that kind of overwhelmed me last night at music team practice. The first few words of Psalm 18 re-released a flood of feeling just as these same words had last night as we sang them over and over again trying to get a song right. Not complex words . . . not particularly theological terms . . . but words that ignite the heart.

We were working on the song “Saviour King” by Hillsong last night. It’s been a long time since we had done the song so it took a bit to get re-familiarized with it. And, we’re no Hillsong, and so it took a few run-throughs to get it packaged appropriately for the LTCC worship team. So, we ended up singing the song a few times . . . sometimes repeating it “from the top” . . . sometimes just going over the verse, or a chorus, or a bridge. And there were a couple of points in the song, chorus 1 and chorus 3, where, no matter how often I sang it, it stirred me from the inside out . . .

“We love You Lord, we worship You.
You are our God, You alone are good . . .
I love you Lord, I worship You.
Hope which was lost, Now stands renewed.”

Every time I sang “I love You, Lord”, I sang to the Lord, “I love you.”

For the believer, I don’t know how those words ever get tiresome . . . how they ever become “ho hum” . . . how they ever lose their meaning. What an awesome privilege to close our eyes . . . to tilt our heads heavenward . . . and sing . . . or whisper . . . or think . . . or shout, “I love You, Lord!”

I was once “dead in trespasses . . . following the course of this world and the ways of disobedience to God . . . living for the passions of the flesh . . . carrying out the desires of the body . . . by nature a child of wrath” (Eph. 2:1-3). There was a time when there was never a thought to acknowledge God much less think that I could, or that I would want to, tell Him that I love Him. Dead to the His love shown to me . . . dead to the life He sent His Son to secure for me . . . dead to any emotion that I might seek to return to Him.

“But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ — by grace you have been saved.”

(Ephesians 2:4-5 ESV)

I love Him . . . and never tire of saying “I love You, Lord” . . . because He first loved me (1John 4:19). While I was yet without ability or desire to know Him . . . while I was yet a sinner intent on occupying the throne of my life . . . while I was yet an enemy of God, lifting my ways above His . . . God showed His love in that He sent His Son to die for me (Rom. 5:1-10). God said, “I love you” first . . . He provided the means for reconciliation . . . He initiated the conversation . . . extended the invitation . . . patiently and persistently drew me to Himself . . . because, I believe, He too wanted to hear, “I love You, Lord.”

David wrote, “He brought me out into a broad place; He rescued me, because He delighted in me” (Ps. 18:19). Oh, to think that God delights in me. Not because of who I am . . . not because of what I’ve done (actually despite what I’ve done) . . . but solely because of who He is and what He has done and His immense love for a lost world . . . His eternal desire to have His creation hear, “I love you” . . . and to adopt them as His children that they might respond, “I love You too, Lord!”

I love You, Lord. Four words that I find are more felt then “tell’t” . . . more an emotion than just an articulation. Four words that never grow old . . . four words that grow with meaning the longer I know Him and the longer I try to serve Him. Four words that bring joy to my heart as I speak them, or sing them . . . four words that I think bring joy to the heart of God as well . . . to Him be glory . . .

“I love You, O LORD, my strength.
The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,
my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge,
my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.”

(Psalm 18:1-2 ESV)

Because of grace. For His glory.

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Satisfied With His Likeness

There were times when David prayed for deliverance from trouble of his own making. When he knew it was because of his own sinful weakness and misguided actions (or lack of action) that he was in dire straits and needed some divine intervention. But, there were also times when David prayed for rescue, not from a circumstance of his own doing, but from a situation brought on only through the wicked determination of others. Such is the prayer of David recorded as Psalm 17.

David wasn’t pleading perfection, but in this situation he was clean. He could confidently (not arrogantly) declare his cause just before the LORD because He knew the Lord had examined his heart, visited him in the secret of night, refined him in the fire, and found nothing (vv. 1-2). And yet, he was surrounded by “deadly enemies” and was desperately in need of God’s protection. And so David called upon God to cover him, just as the pupil of the eye is covered by the eyelid, and to shield him “in the shadow of Your wings” (v.8).

But, like yesterday’s reminder of the difference doing life in a larger context makes, I’m noodling on how David’s cry to the God who is the “Savior of those who seek refuge” (v.7) ends up reflecting David’s confidence that He is also the God who will satisfy with His likeness.

As for me, I shall behold Your face in righteousness;
   when I awake, I shall be satisfied with Your likeness.

(Psalm 17:15 ESV)

David remembers that the wicked who surrounded him were but “men of the world whose portion is in this life”. That what they represented was but the temporal, “filling their womb with treasure” only to “leave their abundance to their infants” (v.14).

But David’s mind was set on things beyond the temporal, on things eternal. So he says, “As for me, I shall behold Your face.” God, I will see Your countenance. Beyond the seeming futility of the fighting today, I am fueled by anticipation of the fullness I will encounter at a future day.

And then, anticipating that day when he would awake to what now he could only imagine, he says, “I shall be satisfied.” I will be filled. I will be overwhelmed. And that, with Your likeness.

As great as that place will be in that day, it will be Your presence, Lord, that takes my breath away. As much I long for reunion with those who have gone before, it will be the reflection of Your glory that will make today’s trials worth it all. While having put on immortality will be amazing, to fix my gaze on Your image will be awesome!

The bride eyes not her garment,
But her dear Bridegroom’s face;
I will not gaze at glory
But on my King of grace.
Not at the crown He giveth
But on His pierced hand;
The Lamb is all the glory
Of Emmanuel’s land.

(“The Sands of Time Are Sinking,” Ann Ross Cousin, 1834)

Because of that day which is sure to come, there is strength to enter into this day, however it will be.

And we call out to Him now in the time of trial, testing, and trouble, because of the confidence we have that what now is of faith, will one day be face to face.

Beloved, we are Gods children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when He appears we shall be like Him, because we shall see Him as He is.

(1John 3:2 ESV)

We shall behold Him.

And we will be satisfied, to unfathomable overflowing, with His likeness.

Because of His grace. All for His glory.

 

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I Shall Not Be Shaken

Last night, as our small group met to discuss that morning’s sermon and dig deeper into the topics of suffering and God’s comfort, we talked about how living life within a greater context helps in persevering amidst trials. Remembering what we believe goes a long way toward dealing with what befalls. Standing on God’s promises goes a long way toward standing firm through life’s pressures. Reflecting on what lies ahead is a very real source of strength for whatever we’re dealing with now.

And this morning, the Spirit, through the psalmist, says to my spirit, “Amen!”

I have set the LORD always before me;
   because He is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.

(Psalm 16:8 ESV)

I shall not be shaken. That’s what I’m chewing on this morning. The songwriter’s confidence that he won’t be dislodged. That he won’t be moved. That he won’t be dropped or allowed to fall. And I’m thinking that knowing that you won’t be overthrown or overcome is a good thing when you’re feeling kind of overwhelmed.

And the songwriter’s confidence isn’t in himself. It’s in the One who is at His right hand. The One who is but an arms length away. The One who stands shoulder-to-shoulder with us. Occupying not just the place of honor, but also the position of defense and protection. A very present help in time of need. Accompanying us into battle even as we take up the armor of God. Ready to shore us up when we’re ready to give up. Spurgeon says, “The sense here is, that the psalmist felt that God, as His Protector, was always near him; always ready to interpose for his defense.”

What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?   (Romans 8:31 ESV)

I shall not be shaken.

But while his confidence lay not in himself, the songwriter isn’t saying that he has no part in fighting the good fight. Far from a “let go and let God” approach, he acknowledges His part in preparing for the day of testing.

I have set the LORD always before me.

David sought the presence of the LORD even before he needed the protection of the LORD. He desired to commune daily with His God rather than call on Him only when in need. His habit would be to meditate on who God is. His practice, to invite Jehovah into all of life. Calling on Him not only in times of trouble and testing, but also acknowledging Him in times of triumph. Seeking Him not only in times of special circumstance, but also inviting His presence during the mundane affairs of his day-to-day routine.

It was his habit to continually set the LORD before him. So it was his confidence that, in the day of trouble, the LORD would be at his right hand.

Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices;
   my flesh also dwells secure. (Psalm 16:9 ESV)

I shall not be shaken.

By His grace. For His glory.

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But You Said

You know he had to be thinking, “This was a mistake!” Sure, after 20 years it was time to return to the land of his fathers and get away from crazy uncle Laban– God said so (Gen. 31:3). So Jacob did so. But then oh, no! As they near their destination, Jacob’s messenger comes to him and says, “Your brother Esau is coming to meet you . . . along with 400 of his men” (33:6).

Doesn’t sound much like a welcoming party. Sounds more like an army. An army accompanying the brother he had extorted the birthright from, the brother he had swindled the blessing from, the brother who, 20 years earlier, had wanted to kill him. Yeah, that brother was coming to meet him . . . and he was bringing 400 of his friends. I chuckled out loud as I read the next verse: “Then Jacob was greatly afraid and distressed.” Ya’ think?!?

And while the one who had made a living as a schemer had no problem coming up with plans to try and appease wrath and hopefully mitigate risk, bottom line is that, at least on the inside, Jacob was a mess. His heart sunk. His feet became like clay. His mind fogged in with anxiety.

But there was no going back. Not to Laban. And there was no running in a different direction. You don’t outrun 400 fighting men when you have 4 wives, 12 kids, a whack of servants, and herds of camels, sheep, goats, and cattle. What’s more, you’re supposedly heading home, back to the promise land.

So what to do? Press on. Plan. Pray.

And Jacob said, “O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac, O LORD who said to me, ‘Return to your country and to your kindred, that I may do you good,’ . . . Please deliver me from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau, for I fear him, that he may come and attack me, the mothers with the children. But You said, ‘I will surely do you good, and make your offspring as the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude.'”

(Genesis 32:9-10, 12 ESV)

Chewing on the implication and power of those three words, “But You said.”

Three words that compel you to move forward even when difficulty seems certain. That steel your nerves in the light of potential danger. That assure you amidst increasing doubts. That renew your resolve even as your heart melts with fear. Three words you pray. Three words that help you remember the promise.

My estranged brother is coming, the one I deceived . . . but You said. He’s bringing an army with him . . . but You said. I could lose everything . . . but You said. Maybe even my life . . . but You said.

But You said return to your country. But You said You would bring good. But You said You would provide a land. But You said You would multiply my offspring. So, even though Easu & Co. are heading my way, I will continue to walk in the way You have laid before me. Because You said.

It’s why I need to read His word. Why I need to be reminded of His promises. That I might hear afresh what He has said. So that, because of what He has said, I might refuse the fear as I reflect on His faithfulness. And recalibrate the difficulty in light of the destination. And lean in to reengage when all my flesh wants to do is retreat.

Sure, there might be an Esau out there today. Or an army, for that matter. But You said . . .

By His grace. For His glory.

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The Sigh and The Song

The psalm is only six verses long. Including the introduction, but eight sentences in my ESV bible. Just one-hundred-sixteen words from the beginning to the end. But, from where the psalmist starts to where he ends is miles apart.

How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever?
. . . How long will You hide Your face from me?
. . .
I will sing to the LORD,
. . . because He has dealt bountifully with me.

(Psalm 13:1, 6 ESV)

David’s psalm captured my attention this morning. A phrase in William MacDonald’s commentary helped articulate why. It’s because we sometimes find ourselves living between the sigh and the song.

David’s despair in the opening lines of his song is almost palpable. Four times he cries out, “How long?” How long will You forget me, God? How long will You hide Your face? How long am I left to talk only to myself amidst heart-crushing sorrow? How long will this enemy prevail?

We’re not told exactly what enemy David’s facing. Not sure if he’s on the run from Saul, or Absalom, or engaged in some other fight where he’s on the ropes. But we do know it’s been going on for awhile and that it’s taking its toll. And we know David is desperate for some sort of breakthrough, some sort of response from God. Otherwise, he fears, death is certain and his enemies will prevail.

How long? How long? How long? How long?

Heavy sigh.

Yet David concludes the psalm with singing. No longer lamenting God’s apparent absence, he instead lauds God’s abundant provision. There’s a noticeable shift from depression to delight. The heavy sigh has given way to a heavenly song. How come?

But I have trusted in Your steadfast love;
. . . my heart shall rejoice in Your salvation.

(Psalm 13:5 ESV)

David was confident of God’s unfailing love. Rejoicing displaced sorrow in his heart as He meditated again on God’s promised salvation. Though in the midst of trial and testing, he believed God’s promised presence was true and God’s promised provision would triumph.

He had trusted in the Father’s steadfast love and He would continue to trust. And faith would become the catalyst for praise. The sigh would give way to the song.

Sometimes we find ourselves living between the sigh and the song. The burden of the day seeming almost overwhelming. The unknown enemy relentlessly pursuing. Anxiety increasing. Despair often prevailing.

But it’s then we need to recall His steadfast love and His unfailing promises. Then, that we need to remind ourselves of the salvation that is ours and it’s unchanging and unfailing power to rescue sourced in the finished work of the cross, the victory of an empty tomb, and the reality of a living, risen, interceding Savior. Then, we need to acknowledge afresh that, though we might feel alone, His Spirit indwells us, and He really will never leave us nor forsake us.

And when we do, and that too by His enabling, what began with a sigh can end with a song.

By His grace. For His glory.

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An Abounding Righteousness

Can’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable every time I read through Jesus’ sermon on the mount. I like the “blessed are you” part. Who doesn’t want to be blessed? But then I get to the “you are” part and it gets a bit warm around the collar.

“You are the salt of the earth” (5:13). That’s on me? To season the earth? To bring out the flavor of the kingdom? To hinder the spread of corruption? And if I lose my saltiness, good for nothing? A little uncomfortable, honestly.

“You are the light of the world” (5:14). Exposing and dispelling darkness in the world? Illuminating the way of God’s economy? Really? No pressure or anything.

And if there’s any question that being salt and light doesn’t involve doing, well Jesus addresses that too. I didn’t come to do away with the Law and Prophets, says Jesus, I have come to fulfill them. Implication? “Therefore whoever relaxes one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven” (5:17-19). Ouch! Loose with just one commandment and I’m the least?! More pressure!

But then, that which could be the final crushing expectation is, instead, actually a weight-lifting reality. The reality of an abounding righteousness.

“For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”   ~ Jesus

(Matthew 5:20 ESV)

While Jesus says there’s a relationship between one’s obedience and their position in the kingdom, He says that there’s not even entrance into the kingdom apart from a righteousness that exceeds the scribes and Pharisees. Apart from an abundance of righteousness. Apart from an abounding righteousness.

The Pharisees had the externals of righteousness down pat. Religious ceremony? Check. Ritualistic cleansing? Check. Dotting every behavioral i and crossing every performance-based t? Check. The Book memorized? As to the Law blameless? Check. Check.

Good enough for entrance into the elite club of religious leaders, but not good enough for entrance into the kingdom of heaven. For that, an abounding righteousness is needed.

A righteousness that goes beyond action and is sourced in attitude. Manifest not just by going through the motions but authenticated by the motives. More than the external rehearsal of good deeds, it’s the internal reality of a pure heart. A righteousness that goes deep. A righteousness that’s at the core. An abounding righteousness.

A righteousness that is only found in Another. A righteousness that only comes from Another. A righteousness not our own, but imputed to those who have believed the gospel and accepted Christ as Savior.

For our sake He made Him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.

(2Corinthians 5:21 ESV)

The righteousness of God.  That’s the abounding righteousness . . . the righteousness fit for entrance into the kingdom of heaven . . . the righteousness credited to our account through the finished work of the cross and because of the perfect person of Christ.

Not left to my own to be salt and light. Not relying on my resources to walk in a manner worthy of my calling. But abounding in righteousness, the righteousness found in Christ. It is no longer I who live, but the Son of God who lives in me (Gal. 2:20). Seeking to obey not in my own strength, but in the power of the Spirit of God who is working a work of transformation throughout me.

The pressure giving way to the promise that “His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of Him who called us to His own glory and excellence” (2Pet. 1:3).

I don’t have what it takes, but I know the One who does.

Lord, let Your abounding righteousness become, more and more, my abiding reality.

By Your grace. For Your glory.

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God Makes Room

It shouldn’t have been so hard. After all, he was the child of promise. He was the miracle kid, born to parents who had no right, naturally speaking, bearing children–dad a centenarian and mom, at 90 years old, way past her prime for having kids. But with God all things are possible. And so, Isaac was born as the son God had promised to Abraham.

What’s more, beyond being a result of God’s promise, he was also a recipient of God’s promise. Just like dad, the LORD had appeared to Isaac and covenanted to be with him and to bless him. To give him the land promised to Abraham, to multiply his offspring as the stars of the heaven, and to work through those offspring to bless all the nations of the earth (Gen. 26:3-4). Like father, like son (Gen. 12:1-3).

So with all the promises, why so many problems?

Famine in the land. Fear for his life. Failure as he misrepresents his wife as his sister in order to protect his own skin. And then, fighting over wells that were rightly his.

Sure, he didn’t starve in the land. And beyond that, God rescued him from his fear and failure by exposing his treachery and protecting his wife. God even redeemed his transgression as he was left alone to grow his herds and his wealth. But when he got too big and too powerful, the king sent him packing, kicking him out of the kingdom.

And maybe being a pilgrim wouldn’t have been so bad if, every time his servants dug a well to provide much needed water for his family and livestock, others hadn’t fought with him to claim the sources of water as their own.

It shouldn’t have been so hard. They were in the promised land after all. But it was.

But what’s grabbing me about Isaac’s story this morning is that rather than giving up, Isaac continues to sojourn, . . . and continues digging wells, . . . and continues to keep on keepin’ on, . . . until God makes room.

And he moved from there and dug another well, and they did not quarrel over it. So he called its name Rehoboth, saying, “For now the LORD has made room for us, and we shall be fruitful in the land.”

(Genesis 26:22 ESV)

The LORD will make room for us. Promise is to be pursued until God makes provision . . . and God, who cannot lie (Heb. 6:17-18), WILL make provision.

God makes room. That’s the encouragement this morning. He makes wide the places. He enlarges the spaces. The work He has begun in us, He will complete. The promises He was given, they all will be fulfilled. And along the way, the hard way at times, He makes room.

Mine is to be faithful in sojourning. To keep my eyes on the city when it feels like I’m slogging along in the pilgrimage. To not lose sight of the prize while running the race. And to expect, that though I too am a miracle child of promise, “born not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God” (Jn. 1:12-13), and though I too am the benefactor of God’s ” precious and very great promises” (2Pet. 1:4), it’s gonna be hard sometimes.

Promise doesn’t forestall problems. Blessing today doesn’t preclude struggle tomorrow.

But God makes room . . . and we shall be fruitful in the land.

By His grace. For His glory.

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This Life

The church was on a roll! The gospel was being preached, and the gospel was being practiced. Those who believed were of “one heart and soul,” demonstrated as everyone of them held loose to their material possessions and were readily redistributing it as others had need (Acts 4:32). The apostles in their midst declaring this radical fellowship to be an expression of the radical redemption found in Christ–signs and wonder regularly accompanying their message as a witness to its veracity. As a result, those who were yet to believe were drawn to this authentic and dynamic community and its message–“and more than ever believers were added to the Lord, multitudes of both men and women” (5:12-14).

So probably not surprising that with great momentum there arose great opposition. The high priest and his party of Sadducees (sad-you-see because they didn’t believe in the resurrection) flexing some self-serving muscle as they put in prison those who were proclaiming the gospel.

And what’s grabbed me this morning is something said to these messengers while they were being sprung from their cell. Words spoken, actually two of the words spoken, during a prison-break of the divine kind. This morning, I’m chewing on the many facets of “this Life.”

But during the night an angel of the Lord opened the prison doors and brought them out, and said, “Go and stand in the temple and speak to the people all the words of this Life.”

(Acts 5:19-20 ESV)

This Life. That’s how they were to talk about Christianity. That’s how they were to present the gospel. Not as some form of religion. Not as some competing philosophy. Not as one of many faith-based worldviews. But as a way of life.

Life sourced in the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. Life conquering sin and death–the victory’s foundation, Another’s righteousness and immortality. New life in Christ, old things having passed away. Eternal life, but life everlasting which we begin to experience now. Life to the full, the abundant life. Life founded on the word. Life energized by the Spirit. That’s this Life.

Not just a bunch of words, but a Way. Beyond the promises, a Practice. More than doctrine, lived out as a Demonstration.

Speak to the people, the angel said, tell them of this Life.

If my faith doesn’t impact my walk have I really come to know this Life? If the gospel is just some “good news” to be shared but isn’t really a GPS to be followed, then is it only “good” as insurance for the future with little impact on the here-and-now? Is the “power of God for salvation” only powerful for the salvation to come with little ability to impact the salvation we are currently trying to work out? Is the righteous of God by faith simply something we’ve put on to allow us into heaven’s gate someday with little practical benefit for walking out our door everyday?

Tell them about this Life, the angel said to the apostles. Show them this Life by  experiencing this Life, the Spirit whispers through His word.

And this is the testimony, that God gave us eternal life, and this life is in His Son.

(1John 5:11 ESV)

This Life by His grace. This Life for His glory.

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The Abundance

Good thing I got a head start on my reading plan last week, ’cause I didn’t necessarily anticipate not getting into routine until the end of the first week of 2018. But a quick trip to the homeland consumed with kids and grandkids has a way of doing that to you. Great way to start the New Year . . . but glad to be back “in the saddle” this morning.

Hovering over Psalm 5 this morning . . . and chewing on what seems to me to be a definition of grace from the songwriter’s prayer.

But I, through the abundance of Your steadfast love, will enter Your house.   I will bow down toward Your holy temple in the fear of You.

(Psalm 5:7 ESV)

How’s that for a definition of grace: the abundance of God’s steadfast love. The King James translates it “the multitude of Thy mercy.” The NIV’s similar, “Your great mercy.” And the NASB, “Your abundant lovingkindness.” Translate the noun how you will, but the adjective has the same idea, it was out of the overflow of God’s love, mercy, and kindness, that David could enter His house.

That David could even draw near God’s holy temple was because of the abundance. That he knew God well enough to bow in reverent awe, due also to the abundance.

David would confidently cry out in petition in the morning; believe that the Almighty would give ear to his groanings; be confident that God would respond to his voice; all because of the abundance. Because of God’s grace.

And if proximity and petition is evidence of the abundance, how much more presence?

Through the blood of Jesus we draw not just near the place where the glory dwells, but we confidently enter into the holy of holies. The finished work of Christ sufficient to rend the curtain from top to bottom. The once for all sacrifice of Christ able to cleanse completely, taking garments stained with sin and making them as white as snow. The perfection of Christ credited to the account of all who own Him as Savior and Lord, so that we enter clothed in His righteousness–holy, even as He is holy. That’s the abundance of God’s steadfast love. That’s grace.

If David was picking up on the abundance, how much more should I? If God’s unmerited favor for the king of Israel moved him from meditation to exultation, if it took his morning prayer and turned it into meaningful praise, if it converted his reflection into rest, then how can it not do the same for those who have known, to a whole next level, “the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, so that you by His poverty might become rich” (2Cor. 8:9)?

Rich.  That’s us as believers. Those who know the abundance. Participants in God’s overflowing favor. Blessed with every spiritual blessing in heavenly places, the riches of His grace lavished upon us (Eph. 1:3, 7-8).

All according to the abundance of His steadfast love.

All because of grace.

All for His glory.

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The Lifter of My Head

What’s the relationship between sorrow and sagging? When was our countenance wired to fall as a response to becoming aware of our failure? Why, when we’re despondent, does the chin droop? How come the neck naturally bends forward when bad things happen? Where’s the connection between a heavy heart and the need to stare at our feet? Don’t know. You’d almost think there’s a physiological cause-and-effect between feeling down and the ability to hold your head up.

But what I do know, what I was reminded of this morning as I read the third Psalm, is who can lift the head.

But You, O LORD, are a shield about me,
. . . my glory, and the lifter of my head.
I cried aloud to the LORD,
. . . and He answered me from His holy hill. Selah

(Psalm 3:3-4 ESV)

Jehovah, the Existing One, is the One we can know as The Lifter of My Head.

David was on the run from his son, Absalom. Apart from fearing for his life, there was enough shame and blame to deal with as he thought of what he could have done, and should have done, to have avoided this mess. He could draw a pretty straight line between the current dysfunction in his home and his failure to deal with past sin in his home (2Sam. 13-15). And He didn’t have to think too long and hard before reminding himself that his failure to act was tied to his failure to have led by example. Bathsheba an ever present reminder of his own moral shortcoming and compromise (2Sam. 11-12). Uriah’s grave always whispering, “Who are you to insist your kids take the high road?”

So now, as he flees from Absalom his son, as his enemies rise against him, as the doubts surface questioning if God is still for him, David cries out to the LORD. With intense stress and struggle causing his chin to attach itself firmly to his chest, David calls out to The Lifter of My Head.

And his head is lifted.

He’s reminded that his failure has been dealt with by God’s gracious provision. That God does not deal with us according to our sins, but according to His steadfast love toward those who fear Him. That “as far as the east is from the west so far does He remove our transgressions from us” (Ps. 103:10-12).

He recalls that his future had been determined by God’s unfailing promise. That he had been promised a throne. That God had said He would establish his kingdom and that He would make his house forever sure (2Sam. 7:16). And that the promise was not founded on who David was, but on what God had determined to do (2Sam. 7:18). It’s prevailing power independent of what David did and assured because of who God is.

He regains his equilibrium as he knows again the strengthening of the inner man through God’s ever abiding presence. That the LORD is a shield about him–an ever present help in time of need. That salvation belongs to the LORD–salvation in the past, salvation for the future, and salvation sufficient to deal with the circumstance of the present.

And the shoulders pull back. The neck straightens up. The chin comes off the chest. And his eyes look heavenward as The Lifter of My Head lifts his head.

“Written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope” (Rom. 15:4).

Such is the abundant and abiding grace of the One we can call The Lifter of My Head.

And with faces He as turned heavenward, we’ll give Him all the glory.

Amen?

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