A Lifeline

David knew about cause and effect. He connected the dots between external circumstance and internal response. Know the ever-present reality of oppression and distress without? Be consumed by darkness and mourning within. Experience unrelenting obstacles day after day? Be prone to feelings of divine abandonment night after night. The cause and effect were undeniable. The connection between “quality of life” and “quality of worship” was understandable. But this morning as I’m hovering over the forty-third psalm, beyond the rawness of the songwriter’s feelings of having been rejected by the God in whom he has taken refuge, I notice his plea. I’m struck by what someone whose soul is cast down asks of the God he trusts.

The songwriter asks God to intervene as judge. To defend his cause. To deliver him from the ungodly and unjust. And he does so, at least in part, because of the effect it is having on him. “I go about mourning” (v.2). His soul is cast down, forced to its knees by waves of despair. Turmoil, an inner turbulent commotion, is his “new norm (v.5). The inner storm draining energy from what his soul truly desires. To abide where God dwells. To bring offerings with great joy. To worship. And so he prays, “Throw me a lifeline.”

Send out Your light and Your truth; let them lead me; let them bring me to Your holy hill and to Your dwelling! Then I will go to the altar of God, to God my exceeding joy, and I will praise You with the lyre, O God, my God.

(Psalm 43:3-4 ESV)

Send out Your light. Let loose Your truth. For they are a lifeline that can guide me to where You tabernacle.

Jesus is light and truth. Jesus said, “I am the light of the world” (Jn. 8:12). He proclaimed, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (Jn. 14:6). So, could we not rewrite the song?

Father, show me afresh the Son! Calm the inner storm that I might see again the cross and know again that if You are with me, who can be against me. That if You did not spare Your own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will You not also with Him graciously give us all things? (Rom. 8:31-32)

The Spirit is light and truth. Jesus, referring to Him as “the Spirit of truth” (Jn 15:26), sent Him to illuminate the Scriptures, to “teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said you” (Jn. 14:26). So, could we not pen lyrics like this?

Father, help me to hear again the whisper of the Spirit’s voice. To be still and believe that I have not been left to my own devices to wage the battle or find the way, but that the Helper has sealed me and has promised to lead me.

And, beyond the “intangibles” of the Savior in whom I abide and His Spirit who abides in me, there is my Bible, the inspired Word of God, something I can lay hands on at will. And it is light, “a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (Ps. 119:105). And it is truth, “The sum of Your word is truth, and every one of Your righteous rules endures forever” (Ps. 119:160). And so again, might we take license with the songwriter’s words?

Let Your Word be the light and truth that leads me again to Your holy hill and to Your dwelling!

Throw me a lifeline? Our faithful Father has — a three-corded lifeline, not easily broken (Eccl. 4:12). It is found in every remembrance of His Son. It is grasped every time we acknowledge the Spirit’s indwelling presence and promise of help. It draws us into His holy presence every time we open the Word, and chew on the Word, and “taste and see that the Lord is good” (Ps. 34:8).

Then I will go to the altar of God, to God my exceeding joy, and I will praise You with the lyre, O God, my God.

Praise God for the lifeline of light and truth. Manifest in His Son. Revealed by His Spirit. Found in His Word.

All through wondrous grace. All for His eternal glory.

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A “Both/And” Thing

It’s a song of depression. Of a “cast down” soul. The seat of human emotions in deep despair as waves of unrelenting trials break over the songwriter. Day and night tears are the psalmist’s food as a voice echoes continually, “Where is your God?” The dire condition of the soul exacerbated with memories of better times, more hopeful times, times when singing at the top of your lungs was something you couldn’t help but do. And so, the soul of the songwriter, dry as a desert, pants for flowing streams, thirsting for the living God. Longing to know an end of drowning in waves of despair, and to again drink deeply from a fountain of living water.

But I’m wondering, as I chew on Psalm 42 this morning, if it doesn’t have to be an “either/or” thing but can actually be a “both/and” thing.

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God.

(Psalm 42:11 ESV)

Twice the psalmist sings these words (verses 5-6a and verse 11). In modern song structure, I’d call this the refrain. It’s the chorus. The big idea the songwriter wants to get across. And if I’m picking up what the songwriter’s saying it’s that even in a soul’s cast down condition, even amidst the turbulence, it can hope in God. And in hoping in God, there can be refreshment for the soul.

Lift up the cast down eyes and fix them on the God of your salvation. Believe that He who has already delivered you from a life of bondage and slavery to sin will, one day, again deliver you from the burden and suffering of overwhelming sorrow. Hope in God.

Easy to type, harder to do. I know.

But the soul which thirsts for God can taste the goodness of God even as it yearns for God in the midst of seasons of confusion permitted by God. The desperation creating a situation where nothing else can satisfy and so, if only a drop of living water falls on the tongue through hope, the soul is encouraged. Encouraged to hope a greater hope, that by waiting on God and meditating on His word, that drop of living water can become a stream. And by the Spirit indwelling the child of God, that stream might even become a flowing river.

He is our God. He is our salvation — past, present, and future. We shall again praise Him.

So cast down soul, hope in God. And taste and see that the Lord is good.

Hope amidst despair. Water in a dry land. It can be a “both/and” thing.

By His grace. For His glory.

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A “Step One” Savior

Don’t know if I’m connecting dots here that should be connected, but let’s run with it.

Hovering over Matthew 18:15-20, a “go to” passage when it comes to church discipline. A progressive path towards calling a brother (or sister) to repentance who “sins against you.” Step one, try and work it out between the two of you. Step two, if that doesn’t work bring in some “witnesses.” Still no movement? Step three, tell it to the church. And if he (or she) still refuses to acknowledge, confess, and repent of their sin, then step four — treat him (or her) as an unbeliever, as someone outside the church. Get it? Got it? Good.

For many though, the thought of getting to step four is really, really uncomfortable.

But then I read Matthew 18:21. And if I’m connecting dots that I’m allowed to connect, it’s step one that gave Peter heartburn.

Then Peter came up and said to Him, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?”

(Matthew 18:21 ESV)

I’m thinking that, most often, if we shy away from step one it’s for fear it won’t work and then we’ll have to move on to steps two, three, and four. But it seems here Peter’s noodling on the implications of what could happen if step one does work. And then works again. And then works again.

Is Peter envisioning the scenario where a brother sins against him, he goes to that brother and tells him his fault, the brother listens, repents, and they’re restored, but then his brother does it to him again?

Peter’s obeyed and done step one and it works — he has “gained” his brother? Peter’s won his brother back. He’s helped him escape evil. He’s preserved him from the effects of unconfessed sin (Ps. 66:18). But sin being what sin is, and the flesh being what the flesh is, the brother falls again and sins against Peter. Is it back to step one? And if step one works again, then what about the next time? And the next time? How often, asks Peter, do I do the “one step” with this brother and forgive him when he repents? Seven times?

Nope, says Jesus, seventy-seven. That’s how the ESV reads. Seventy times seven according to other translations. Really? Yeah, really. Hmmm . . .

I’m guessing for most of us, avoiding step one for fear of eventually ending up at step four is less a thing than doing step one only to do step one again . . . and maybe again . . . and maybe again again. Easier to write-off a brother (or a sister) than to deal with the emotional roller-coaster of being offended, confronting, forgiving, and then being offended again. 490 times? Brother! Or . . . Sister!

But hey, if this really is a “brother”, if I’m truly seeing my offender as a “sister”, and they really are sorry for their sin, and they sincerely want to do better in their spirit but their flesh is weak, then what kind of effort am I willing to make for the sake of a member of my family? For the building up of the church? For the sake of obedience to Christ?

Okay, the more I chew on this, the more uncomfortable I become. If I’m connecting dots that can be connected, I get why Peter’s asking the question.

But if I’m willing to also connect the dots that I just might be that offending brother — if against no else than against the Lord — then how thankful am I that Jesus is a “step one” Savior? Confronting me by His Spirit of my offense against Him, again and again. In His Father’s kindness, leading me to repentance, again and again. Through His blood shed on Calvary, ready, willing, and able to forgive my sin (again and again) and cleans me from all unrighteousness (again and again).

So, how often will my brother (or sister) sin against me and I forgive him (or her)?

As many as a willing spirit and the abundant grace of God enables.

As many as the glory of God deserves.

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Not To Give Offense

The key that unlocks understanding the passage is identifying what the “two-drachma tax” was. It wasn’t a Roman tax collector who came knocking. Nor was it a Jewish tax collector working for Rome. Instead it was a temple tax collector providing opportunity to support financially the cost of running the temple at Jerusalem with a half shekel offering. A practice instituted by God through Moses back in Exodus for servicing the tent of meeting (Ex. 30:11-16). Understanding what tax we’re talking about opens the door to the claim Jesus was making.

When they came to Capernaum, the collectors of the two-drachma tax went up to Peter and said, “Does your teacher not pay the tax?” He said, “Yes.” And when he came into the house, Jesus spoke to him first, saying, “What do you think, Simon? From whom do kings of the earth take toll or tax? From their sons or from others?” And when he said, “From others,” Jesus said to him, “Then the sons are free. However, not to give offense to them, go to the sea and cast a hook and take the first fish that comes up, and when you open its mouth you will find a shekel. Take that and give it to them for Me and for yourself.”

(Matthew 17:24-26 ESV)

So many things worth chewing on here.

First, there’s Jesus’ demonstration of deity — His omniscience. He knows the conversation Peter’s had with the tax collector. He knows the rash promise Peter made about paying. So, before Peter can talk to Jesus about how to deliver on the promise he had made, “Jesus spoke to him first.” In addition, Jesus knows there’s a fish with a coin in its belly — a shekel, enough for taxes for two. So, He sends Peter to go fishing, also knowing that the first fish Peter hooks is gonna be that money fish.

Then, there’s Jesus’ claim to deity. Kings of the earth collect taxes from others in order to underwrite the needs of their household — they don’t collect taxes from their own family. The sons are free. Thus, taxes for the Father’s house were never intended to be paid by the Son. So Jesus is, in effect, asserting again, “I am the Son of God.”

But here’s what I’m noodling on this morning, Jesus’ decision not to give offense.

He didn’t have to pay the tax for the house of God, it was His house. While it wasn’t a great sum of money (and apparently the Lord of Creation had access to aquatic ATM’s at will), He could have held there was a principle at stake — the sons are free. Yet, for Jesus, this was not a battle worth fighting. This was not a potential teachable moment which needed to be seized, nor a divine object lesson that needed to be pressed. Go fishing Peter, says Jesus, and pay the tax.

The wisdom of deity. Refusing to give offense where offense isn’t needed. Going with the flow when it best serves the long game of making the kingdom known. That’s what I’m chewing on.

Oh, there would come a time when Jesus would give offense concerning His Father’s house. A time when we would clean house. Then He would assert His authority as the Son. But when it came to four drachmas, when it came to a shekel, when it came to a coin in the belly of a fish, “take that and give it to them for Me and yourself.”

How I need such wisdom. To know when letting it go and avoiding offense is actually the wiser strategy for the long game. To not be so quick to make every matter a matter of principle that needs to be defended. To be more like Jesus.

By His grace. For His glory.

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The Sinner’s Prayer

Hovering over Psalm 38 this morning. And talk about your desperate, seemingly unbearable situation! Israel’s poet is flat on the mat and not sure he can get up before the ten count. Or, to use a different metaphor, he feels like he’s going under for the third and final time.

He is sick! Like, really, really sick! “There is no soundness in my flesh,” he laments. He can’t stand up straight. He is racked with a raging fever. He’s nearly comatose, he can’t hear and can barely speak. Sounds like he might be infectious too, as his “friends and companions stand aloof from my plague.”

But wait! There’s more . . . The king’s pain is potentially his enemies’ gain. Those who seek his life are planning “treachery all day long” as they seek to “lay their snares” and “seek my hurt.”

Bottom line? “I am ready to fall,” pens the songwriter, “and my pain is ever before me.” Going under for the third time.

And here’s the thing, it’s not like he doesn’t know why this is happening to him.

O LORD, rebuke me not in Your anger, nor discipline me in Your wrath! For Your arrows have sunk into me, and Your hand has come down on me. There is no soundness in my flesh because of Your indignation; there is no health in my bones because of my sin. For my iniquities have gone over my head; like a heavy burden, they are too heavy for me.

(Psalm 38:1-4 ESV)

Your anger. Your wrath. Because of Your indignation. Because of my sin.

We don’t know the specifics of the situation, but David, the man after God’s own heart (Acts 13:22), connects his distress with God’s discipline. He’s connected some dots between sowing seeds of fleshly desire and reaping a harvest of fleshly consequence.

My wounds stink and fester because of my foolishness.

(Psalm 38:5 ESV)

And yet, his hope remains in the LORD.

But for You, O LORD, do I wait; it is You, O Lord my God, who will answer.

(Psalm 38:15 ESV)

And so, he confesses his iniquity. He says, “I am sorry for my sin” (38:18). And he cries out to the God who hears when the sinner prays.

Do not forsake me, O LORD! O my God, be not far from me! Make haste to help me, O Lord, my salvation!

(Psalm 38:21-22 ESV)

Can’t say I’ve suffered the physical consequence of sin as David did. But who hasn’t known the feeling of wasting away on the inside because of guilt? Of drowning in iniquity because the shame it brings seems too heavy a burden to bear? If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves (1Jn. 1:8).

But the Father disciplines those He loves. And the Son died for those who are His. And the Spirit convicts us of sin that we might repent. And the blood shed on Calvary is able to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. Because the work He has begun in us He has promised He will complete (Php. 1:6).

So, we pray the sinner’s prayer,

. . . for You, O LORD, do I wait; it is You, O Lord my God, who will answer. O Lord, my salvation!

Because of His abundant grace.

To Him be everlasting glory.

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Fret Not Yourself

They are like old friends. Verses that I haven’t read for probably a year. But they were implanted within me as a young believer and have been part of me ever since. While our formal interactions may not be frequent, every time we reconnect, we just pick up where we left off.

Trust in the LORD . . .
Delight yourself in the LORD . . .
Commit your way to the LORD . . .
Be still before the LORD . . .

(Psalm 37:3,4,5,7 ESV)

This morning, though, I’m struck by the fact that they are commands to obey within a command to obey. More specifically, exhortations in support of a dehortation (yeah, that’s really a word . . . an archaic word . . . but it’s a word). To do’s in support of a “not to do.”

Fret not yourself because of evildoers; be not envious of wrongdoers! . . . fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way, over the man who carries out evil devices! Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath! Fret not yourself; it tends only to evil.

(Psalm 37:1, 7b-8 ESV)

Fret not yourself. That’s what I’m chewing on this morning.

Literally, don’t grow hot. Don’t “glow warm” with vexation. Don’t get wound around the axle. Over what? The apparent, temporal, injustice of evildoers who seem to prosper in their way. How come? ‘Cause it tends only to evil.

No matter how righteous we think our wrath, or how appropriate our anger, we’re not really in the position to eliminate evil or avenge the ways of those who carry out evil devices. I’m not saying we don’t stand for what’s right, seek to address what’s wrong, and care about those impacted by the ways of wicked men. But David, led by the Spirit, says we’re not to be consumed with heartburn because of it. It tends only to evil.

Instead, trust in the LORD. Delight yourself in the One who loves justice (37:28). Commit your way to the One who has promised “a future for the man of peace” and to cut off the future of the wicked (37:37-38). And be still before the One who upholds the righteous (37:17) and has promised that “the meek shall inherit the land” (37:11).

Again, not saying we are not to care about injustice. No, we are to do justly and love mercy — but we are also to walk humbly with our God (Micah 6:8). The LORD is the judge of all the earth. He will bring about justice in His time and in His way.

So, fret not yourself. But trust in the LORD. Delight yourself in the LORD. Commit your way to the LORD. Be still before the LORD.

Yes, LORD!

By Your grace. For Your glory.

Until next year, my friends . . .

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“No, LORD!”

I cringe a bit as I type the title for this entry. Is “No, LORD” even a thing?

Many times, I have heard teaching that such a response is an oxymoron. “No” and “LORD” just don’t go together. Most often it was in the context of preaching or teaching on Acts 10 where Peter, in a vision, is told by the Lord to kill and eat from a table set with unclean animals. To which Peter responds, “By no means, Lord” (ESV). “Not so, Lord!” (NKJV). “No, Lord” (CSB). The message was clear, you just don’t put those two words together.

Unless, perhaps, you are an intercessor.

This morning I am chewing on the thought that Moses, in effect, says “No, Lord.”

And the LORD said to Moses, “Go down, for your people, whom you brought up out of the land of Egypt, have corrupted themselves. They have turned aside quickly out of the way that I commanded them. They have made for themselves a golden calf and have worshiped it and sacrificed to it and said, ‘These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt!'” And the LORD said to Moses, “I have seen this people, and behold, it is a stiff-necked people. Now therefore let Me alone, that My wrath may burn hot against them and I may consume them, in order that I may make a great nation of you.”

(Exodus 32:7-10 ESV)

Stiff-necked people defy a holy God. Disobedient people defile the image of God. What’s appropriate then? The wrath of God.

Judgment is the right response of a righteous God. Wrath is the reasonable reaction of a God who is jealous for His name with a perfect jealousy. Or, as Paul would put it centuries later, “The wages of sin is death” (Rom. 6:23).

But what could get in the way of a righteously wrathful God acting on His righteous wrath? An intercessor. Someone standing in the breach of a wayward people and a holy God. Someone like Moses. And so, God says, “Now therefore let Me alone.” To which Moses sort of says by his actions, “No, LORD.”

But Moses implored the LORD . . . (Exodus 32:11a ESV)

God said “Let Me alone.” Moses didn’t. Instead, Moses “pleaded” (NKJV) with the Lord on behalf of the people. He “interceded” (CSB) for them.

” . . . Turn from Your burning anger and relent from this disaster against Your people. Remember Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, Your servants, to whom You swore by Your own self, and said to them, ‘I will multiply your offspring as the stars of heaven, and all this land that I have promised I will give to your offspring, and they shall inherit it forever.'” And the LORD relented from the disaster that He had spoken of bringing on His people.

(Exodus 32:12b-14 ESV)

God is unchanging in His nature and essence. Thus, God’s response to every situation is a consistent, perfect response without contradiction. Even when that response is relenting.

When people sin in defiance of God, God in His unchanging perfection is just in perfectly judging their rebellion. But equally true, when God is presented with an intercessor who intercedes on the basis of the glory of God’s name and the permanence of God’s promises, then for a gracious God to relent is also the perfect response.

When God told Moses, “Leave me alone” He knew Moses would say, “Not so, Lord!” For God knew before He ever promised a promise that the fulfilling of the promise would be dependent on a go-between to represent a people who would be a work-in-progress for a lifetime. One who would be more than their deliverer, but would also be their intercessor, as well. A foreshadow of the greater Intercessor who would not only deliver a people from the bondage of sin and death, but would live forever to plead their case, on the basis of His shed blood, and thus bring them into the fullness of promise. An Intercessor “able to save to the uttermost” (Heb. 7:25).

Moses didn’t leave God alone. And thus, he became an imperfect type of Jesus.

Jesus has promised never to leave us alone. And thus, “indeed is interceding for us” at the right hand of God (Rom. 8:34).

According to God’s grace. Forever for God’s glory.

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Aaron Shall Bear

Reading in Exodus this morning. And what catches my attention, and imagination, is a phrase repeated 4 times in the instructions concerning the priest’s garments.

The uniform to be worn by Aaron was, to say the least, pretty elaborate. And, I’m thinking it must have weighed a ton. No light weight, sweat resistant, high-tech stretch fabrics here. Instead, multi-layered garments of thick coarse yarn and fine linen. Supplemented with onyx stones for the shoulders and twelve precious stones interwoven within the breastpiece. Add to that chains of pure gold attaching this to that through rings of gold, and I’m thinking this is a pretty weighty garment.

But it’s nothing compared to the weight of what it signified. The weight born by the priest before the LORD in the Holy of Holies.

And you shall set the two stones on the shoulder pieces of the ephod, as stones of remembrance for the sons of Israel. And Aaron shall bear their names before the LORD on his two shoulders for remembrance.

(Exodus 28:12 ESV)

So Aaron shall bear the names of the sons of Israel in the breastpiece of judgment on his heart, when he goes into the Holy Place, to bring them to regular remembrance before the LORD.

(Exodus 28:29 ESV)

And in the breastpiece of judgment you shall put the Urim and the Thummim, and they shall be on Aaron’s heart, when he goes in before the LORD. Thus Aaron shall bear the judgment of the people of Israel on his heart before the LORD regularly.

(Exodus 28:30 ESV)

It shall be on Aaron’s forehead, and Aaron shall bear any guilt from the holy things that the people of Israel consecrate as their holy gifts. It shall regularly be on his forehead, that they may be accepted before the LORD.

(Exodus 28:38 ESV)

Aaron shall bear.

Aaron was to carry, take, lift up, support, and sustain. The weight of Aaron’s garment had direct correlation to the weight of Aaron’s responsibility to bear the sons and daughters of the exodus before the LORD of their deliverance.

He would bear their names, on his shoulders and on his heart, before the Lord regularly. Bringing the people of Passover before the God who had made provision for them to be passed over. A reminder, a memorial, of the people God had redeemed through the blood of a lamb. Aaron would carry symbols bearing the names of the tribes of Israel. And when He saw them, God would look afresh upon the people — each one, name by name — who He had led out of Egypt with a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. God providing Himself a perpetual reminder of the people He had promised for Himself.

Aaron would also bear the judgment of the people. Not judgment as in divine punishment, but judgment as in divine discernment, determination, and direction for a set apart people. With a heart for their good and God’s glory, not only would Aaron bear the peoples names before the Lord, but would bear the LORD’s will concerning their ways.

Lastly, Aaron shall bear any guilt for the peoples’ less-than-holy holiness. With “Holy to the LORD” born on the front of his turban, he would compensate for the blemishes of well-intended sacrifices. He would stand in the breach of offerings which came up short, though offered sincerely. It was because he stood in the gap, that the worship of a less than perfect people could be a sweet-smelling savor to a thrice holy God.

God would remember His people. God would lead His people. God would look past His people’s imperfect worship. All because Aaron shall bear. All because the high priest would carry God’s people into God’s presence. He would take them, lift them up, support them, and sustain them as they sought to walk with God in their midst.

Jesus is our High Priest. A merciful and faithful High Priest in the service of God (Heb. 2:17). A great High Priest who has passed through the heavens (Heb. 4:14). One who is able to sympathize with our weaknesses (Heb. 4:15) and bridge the gap because He is “holy, innocent, unstained, separated from sinners, and exalted above the heavens” (Heb. 7:26). Even now “seated at the right hand of the throne of Majesty in heaven” (Heb. 8:1).

Aaron shall bear . . . the remembrance of God’s people, on his shoulders, over his heart, and upon his head into the presence of God. A picture that, in like manner but to a far greater degree, Jesus shall carry His people too.

Consequently, He is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through Him, since He always lives to make intercession for them.

(Hebrews 7:25 ESV)

Hallelujah! What a Savior!

What wondrous grace. To God be the glory!

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An Entrance into the Hiding Place

The picture is that of a covering or shelter. A secret place for protection. A place where those who find refuge there are watched over, guarded, and kept close. A place of refuge from an enemy.

You are a hiding place for me;
You preserve me from trouble;
You surround me with shouts of deliverance. Selah

(Psalm 32:7 ESV)\

It’s not an uncommon image in the psalms, that of the LORD being “a stronghold in times of trouble” (Ps. 9:9) or a “shelter in the day of trouble” (Ps. 27:5). That God is a rock of refuge for those who would flee to Him from their enemies is a common lyric among the songwriters.

But here’s the thing about this psalm. The enemy here is unconfessed sin.

David’s song is testimony of one who tried to conceal his sin. One who kept silent and tried to ignore it. One who refused to recognize his sin and attempted to cover his iniquity. But one who “wasted away” on the inside because of the shame and guilt that comes with sin.

Though on the outside he portrayed a king in control as he went about daily, kingly business, inside he was a mess. Inwardly he was “groaning all day long.” And night was no better, for He felt God’s heavy hand of conviction as he tossed and turned awake in bed. No rest, no peace. Eventually his “strength was dried up as by the heat of summer.”

But that all changed when he acknowledged his sin to God. When he stopped covering it up. When he confessed his transgressions to the LORD. For then, pens David, “You forgave the iniquity of my sin” (Ps. 32:5b). And so the forgiven king could sing:

Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man against whom the LORD counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit.

(Psalm 32:1-2 ESV)

Sin is the enemy, in this psalm, for which God is the refuge. Transgression is the trouble He will preserve us from. Deliverance is the wall of protection with which we can be surrounded. The entrance into this hiding place? Confession.

Therefore let everyone who is godly offer prayer to You at a time when You may be found; surely in the rush of great waters, they shall not reach him.

(Psalm 32:6 ESV)

The NLT rendering resonates with me:

Therefore, let all the godly pray to You while there is still time, that they may not drown in the floodwaters of judgment.

(Psalm 32:6 NLT)

The urgency is not that God will at some point up and leave so that He can’t be found, but that unconfessed sin will eventually harden the heart and corrupt the internal GPS which seeks release from shame and guilt. The floodwaters of judgment found not in a withdrawing of grace but in the downward, destructive spiral of being given over to minds which “suppress the truth” (Rom. 1:18). God giving the unrepentant up “in the lusts of their hearts to impurity” (Rom. 1:24).

Though, as the godly, we have been delivered from the penalty of sin, let’s not kid ourselves about the need for on-going deliverance from the presence and power of sin. Sin is still an enemy. To not recognize that is to walk unarmed into a battle. To not deal with it after we’ve been tripped up or have failed, is to allow the enemy to eat us from the inside out with unresolved guilt and nowhere-to-go shame.

But to confess our sin, to make a beeline to the foot of the cross, to offer a prayer at a time when God has promised to be found, is to disarm the enemy. The blood of Christ sufficient to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness (1Jn. 1:9). The shame removed because there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (Rom. 8:1).

In Christ Jesus is our hiding place from our enemy, sin. He will preserve us from trouble. He will surround us with shouts of deliverance, again and again.

Shouts of “It is finished!” The work of redemption complete. The power of the enemy broken.

Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.

Because of His abundant grace. For His all-deserved glory.

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A Far-Off Fear and A Draw Near Fear

Hovering over a few verses in Exodus 20 this morning. Thinking that, for me at least, I may be so fixated on making sure I take note again of the Ten Commandments that I lose sight of what was a pretty tense situation.

Mt. Sinai is lit up. The LORD has come down from heaven and the tip of His toe touches the earth with “thunders and lightnings and a thick cloud on the mountain and a very loud trumpet” (Ex. 19:16). The top of the mountain is “wrapped in smoke because the LORD had descended on it in fire” (19:18b). And while the LORD tells Moses to invite His delivered people to the base of the mountain, no matter how much Moses is told to consecrate the people and prepare them, they aren’t prepared. Sure, their garments are clean, but they don’t know how to process what is seen.

Now when all the people saw the thunder and the flashes of lightning and the sound of the trumpet and the mountain smoking, the people were afraid and trembled, and they stood far off and said to Moses, “You speak to us, and we will listen; but do not let God speak to us, lest we die.” Moses said to the people, “Do not fear, for God has come to test you, that the fear of Him may be before you, that you may not sin.” The people stood far off, while Moses drew near to the thick darkness where God was.

(Exodus 20:18-21 ESV)

Noodling on the holy tension between Moses’ encouragement to the people to “fear not” and the expectation of God that “the fear of Him may be before you.” Chewing on the fear which causes the people to stand “far off” and a fear which prompts Moses to “draw near”.

It’s not like the people had never seen mighty signs and wonders from God before. Actually, they’d encountered them recently in Egypt. But there, they were terrifying. Destruction and death accompanied them. But fear not, Moses reminds them, amidst those was your deliverance. God having another purpose for them — that they would be Jehovah’s “treasured possession among all peoples . . . a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Ex. 19:5-6).

Fear not the punishment of God for, by the blood of your lamb, judgment and wrath passed over you. Fear not the bondage of death, for He has delivered you. Delivering you from a fear which would cause you to stand far off.

Instead, the signs and wonders of Sinai were intended to “test them” that the “fear of Him” would be before them so that they might not sin. Rather than the fear of wrath and judgment, they would know the fear of an awesome God who had descended from heaven to be in their midst. One unlike them in any way. A holy God. A majestic God. A God of infinite greatness and glory. A God to be revered. A God to be taken seriously. And, in that sense, a God to be feared. Fear that would act as a restraint to faithlessness. A fear that would fuel a desire to obey His commandments. A fear that would, counter intuitively perhaps, beckon them to draw near.

Holy, reverent, jaw-dropping fear of God is a fear that prompts us to draw near to God.

A God who has come down calls us to bow down at His feet. A God who shows Himself glorious in our midst is a God who invites us to draw near into His presence.

Because we’ve been saved from the just wrath of a holy God, we have been released from the fear that keeps us far off.

Because we’ve been saved through the steadfast love of a holy, holy, holy God, we know a reverent fear which compels us to draw near.

Only by His grace. Only for His glory.

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