Category: <span>Devotional</span>

Psalm 46:1-2

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea”

“Hey, it’s me. Just calling to chat, nothing earth-shattering. Call me back when you get a chance.” 

Have you ever left a voicemail message like this one? I have countless times. Probably most often, this is a message I would leave for my parents. What I am really saying is, “Don’t be worried that you missed my call. Everything is fine. I’d love to talk to you, but it’s not an emergency.” 

Why is it so much less common to use the expression “earth-shattering” in the opposite context? Those phone calls that start out with, “I’m calling from the hospital,” or, “There’s been an accident,” or, “I have your biopsy results.” Moments when it feels like your whole world is actually crumbling. Earth-shattering news. Everything has changed in a moment, and nothing will ever be the same.

The events of 2020 have been a bit like earthquakes that are reshaping what the world looks like. There have been so many that it’s hard to tell the earthquakes from the aftershocks, but it doesn’t really matter because the ground never seems to stop shaking. We’re trying to learn to live with the tremors, but it is hard to ignore the constant reminders of instability.

How, then, can the psalmist say, “we will not fear though the earth give way…”? Some of the deepest, most palpable fear I have felt has been in those moments when the phone rings late at night, when the voice on the other end made my blood feel cold and my muscles tremble. In the last few months, the fear is of a more chronic variety. It whispers and nags, asking what will happen next. Where will the next earthquake strike, and what will be destroyed when it does? The earth is giving way all around us – how can we not be afraid?

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” 

Psalm 46 repeats twice that, “The LORD Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress” (v. 7, 11). There is a place where the ground is not shaking, and we are invited to make our shelter there. More than any other time in our lives, now is an opportunity to tangibly learn that stability and security is found in God alone. 

The image of mountains crumbling and falling into the sea is compelling because mountains are among the largest and sturdiest things we can see with our eyes. I am drawn to mountains, in part because they remind me of God’s greatness and strength. Yet they, too, are changeable. Whether by slow processes of erosion and weathering or by sudden dramatic events such as earthquakes, even the mountains lack the permanence my soul longs for.

“Nations are in uproar,” the psalmist writes (v. 6). Yes, that sounds about right, doesn’t it? If we look to countries, governments, or leaders for shelter we will also be disappointed. These earthquakes are shaking everything that is familiar and it is frightening to realize that we have been seeking refuge in unreliable places. 

Psalm 46:10 ranks pretty high on the list of popular and often-quoted Bible verses. “Be still and know that I am God.” It is far less popular to put this verse into the context of the verses before it:

“Come and see what the Lord has done,
    the desolations he has brought on the earth.
He makes wars cease
    to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
    he burns the shields with fire.
He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
    I will be exalted among the nations,
    I will be exalted in the earth.”
-Psalm 46:8-10

Not all destruction is bad. It is possible that the earthquakes we are currently enduring are tearing down structures and systems that are so mammoth and familiar that we can’t imagine life without them, but God has something better. Perhaps some of our favorite mountains need to be thrown into the sea and the earthquake is the only way to get them there. So that he will be exalted – in the earth and in our lives.

However God is reshaping the landscape of your life and my life as individuals, and our lives collectively, he encourages us to take refuge in him during the messy process and beyond. He reminds us that he is ever-present and wants to dwell with us. He invites us to be still when all around us is constant turbulence. 

He offers us peace instead of fear. But in order to take hold of one we must first let go of the other.

Hope.

A small, but powerful word.

A word that brings life, expectation, and reassurance.  Much like a life raft in a sea of darkness.

If I were an artist, I’d paint my little life raft, Hope.

I see it as a sturdy, well-loved, weather-beaten beauty.  Faded. Mismatched oars.  Littered with patches lovingly sewn on where doubt and fear and lies had struck the sides, the bottom… all attempts to sink the Hope. To sink me.

If you look closer, the patches have dates, inscriptions, even pictures. It’s a scrapbook of sorts… one that tells a story of trials, obstacles, choices. Heartbreak, difficult decisions, uphill battles against all odds.

When I gaze at it, I can see the hard-won victories, the laughter amidst the tears, and the love and faith that kept me rowing to shore. Time after time after time.

What motivates me to keep sailing? With a lifeboat that weary, one may wonder at the sanity of leaving the safety of the shoreline. But when you stop accepting invitations to adventure, you stop living. And that’s just not what I was called to. Sure, sometimes a life of sitting quietly beside the fire in a perfectly safe and sterile bubble may sound delightful, but eventually, that stirring in your soul that you were placed here on this earth for something more would overwhelm you to the point that you could no longer enjoy the monotony of ‘safe’.

My raft. My scrapbook of hope. It’s a gift. A hard-fought perseverance from faith in a greater purpose. Faith in a redeemer who lives to save. An eternal bond with the creator of the universe who cares about every trial I encounter.

“Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.” (Psalm 31:24)

I would be remiss if I led you to believe my hardy battle raft got to shore on its own, or solely by my sheer willpower.

The verse that keeps coming to mind as I am currently adrift at sea, frantically patching up holes, feeling like one oar in and circling the same island, is Psalm 121:1-2 “Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.”

I could easily interchange hope and help. They both hold true.

Today I feel compelled to share this, with the hope that others will start to treasure their own lifeboats. That they will see that it’s not merely a way to ‘survive,’ it’s a conduit to share their experiences. To encourage someone else to patch up that hole. One. More. Time. Inspire others to continue to venturing down the next bend in the river, even if the last stop was a bit dicey.

“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another toward love and good deeds,” Hebrews 10:23-24

We may each have our own raft, but I believe we need to show up as a fleet. A sea of darkness full of rafts of light and hope and encouragement. We are in this together, really. None of us were meant to go alone for the entirety of our quest. Sometimes I need help sewing up the patches, finding – or making – a new oar, or rustling up provisions. Sometimes, someone else merely seeing that I am capable of continuing to bail more water out of the boat spurs me on. Often, I have fellow rafters come alongside and bail furiously while I rest or cry. God has given us a wonderful community of people in each body of water we have set sail in. A blessing indeed.

1 Peter 3:15 motivates us to, “In your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.”

Share Jesus, but do so in a way that honors the other person and his or her journey.

Be the someone that says, “That sucks.” “I am so sorry.”  “You can do it!” “I am cheering you on.”

Share how you patched a seam, etched the patch, decided to keep sailing. Offer hope.

Is there a fleet waiting for your life raft to join it? Are there people on shore afraid to get in their boats? Are there rafts without light, without hope, that could use a flare or two?

Our boats our not designed to be moored in a line awaiting comparison to other boats. They are not meant to be meticulously put together and sitting inside a pristine glass bottle. These are working boats. Let’s set sail, shall we?

Romans 1:20

“For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.”

What is it that draws us to beautiful places? What is it about those places that we all seem to agree that they’re beautiful in the first place?

Think about it: In general, standards of beauty for most things vary in different cultures and time periods. Think about art, music, architecture, and fashion. Two people can look at the same painting and have completely different feelings about its beauty. In the 1800’s, European women carried parasols to keep their skin as pale and white as possible, while today many people pay money to lay in a machine that will make them as tan as possible. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as they say.

Yet I don’t know of a culture or a time period in which people didn’t find beauty in a sunset. Mountains, forests, beaches, and wildflowers seem to hold universal appeal. More than that, they elicit an emotional response on par with the world’s most magnificent works of art. Because that is exactly what they are.

This week we are camped beside a lake. There is nothing between us and the lakeshore except a patch of grass and a small campground road. The lake is to our west, so everything is perfectly situated for brilliant sunsets over the water. This place has been soothing my soul, even in the midst of other stresses and worries, and calls to mind this verse from Romans. 

God’s invisible qualities, or attributes in another version, are revealed to us in the things that he has made. The thing that calls to us universally about nature is God’s actual nature. We are created for relationship with him and so these things that show us more of who he is touch us on a deep level.

For a long time, I focused on the “power” part of this verse. The fact that any of it exists is evidence of his immense power to simply speak it into being. When I gaze upon a majestic mountain skyline, I think about how much greater God must be to have shaped such grandeur. When I look at the stars, I echo the words of the psalmist: 

When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him? (Psalm 8:3-4)

None of this is wrong. Connecting with even the smallest measure of God’s power is still hard to grasp and even harder to put into words, but most of us have experienced it so I won’t attempt to try. 

No, it wasn’t wrong to focus on God’s power in creation, but what I was missing were so many other aspects of his “divine nature” that call to me from within his created nature. The peace I feel beside the gently lapping water of the lake – that’s God’s peaceful nature. The sense of excitement and adventure that beckon me to follow the trail deeper into the forest – that’s God’s adventurous and daring nature. The music of birdsong that greets the sunrise – that’s God’s joyful and expectant nature. The way the air smells after a summer rain – that’s God’s redemptive nature.

This is not the same thing as believing that nature itself is a god or that God’s Spirit lives in everything he created. We do not worship nature or any part of the creation, and I want to be crystal clear about that. And Scripture is clear that human beings are unique among everything God created in bearing his image and receiving his Spirit. 

Nevertheless, God chooses to reveal aspects of his nature in the things he has made, which gives everyone on Earth a chance to experience his presence. Today, I plan to meet God in the warm, inviting waters of this lake. Where can you seek his nature in nature today?

Moment of Beauty

Here are some personal pictures of beautiful nature, and I hope they inspire you to find a little piece of natural beauty where you are today – even if it’s as simple as a dandelion, raindrops in a puddle, or the moon this evening.

Ephesians 6:12

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”

Sometimes it seems as though lockdown was when we were all sent to our corners, and now it’s time to come out swinging. We’re all revved up and bouncing on our toes and ready to let loose on any opponent that comes our way. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Watch out world, here we come. 

I wish that the lockdown had worked more like a time-out, where we all took some much-needed time to calm down and think about what we’ve done. As individuals, I’m sure there were many who did just that. But collectively, it seems like orders to stay at home worked more like a boxing ring corner than a time-out corner. 

I think social distancing has played a big role in this. When we aren’t spending time together in person, it’s so easy to reduce people to words on a screen. I confess that I am guilty of this lately. Friends of mine post things on Facebook that I disagree with, sometimes very strongly, and I reduce them to that opinion. Suddenly those people are the other side of an “us vs. them” divide in my head. When we are together in person, they are human beings who I care about, with fears and hopes and ups and downs, every bit as fragile and fallible and beautifully created in the image of God as I am. We can laugh and cry and pray together despite coming to different conclusions on some issues.Through the screen, I can be lured into forgetting their humanity and viewing them as caricatures. 

I am guilty – and I suspect that I am not alone.

Wired for Story

The world runs on stories, and this is by design. The Gospel is, after all, the greatest story ever told. Our hearts were meant to respond to stories so that we can enter into each other’s stories and ultimately into God’s redemptive story. It is why we love novels and movies. It is why children play imagination games. We are hard-wired for it. This is both a gift and a liability. 

Tremendous power and influence are at stake, depending on which stories we believe. So everyone from politicians and lobbyists to media outlets, from your pastor to your crazy uncle on Facebook – everyone has a story to tell and something to gain from you believing it. And every good story needs a villain. 

Have you ever read the children’s book The True Story of the 3 Little Pigs by A. Wolf? This clever picture book is the story of the Three Little Pigs from the perspective of the wolf, who is neither big nor bad according to his version of events. My daughter just read another story in which Little Red Riding Hood was actually on a mission to betray Snow White, and the grandmother she’s visiting is the evil queen. In this version, the wolf is the hero who has been sent to defeat their plot. It’s popular lately to re-imagine fairy tales, which typically have very black and white heroes and villains, in order to see both sides of the story. Perhaps the same technique could be applied to our real-life stories that involve nuanced human beings. 

Who is the Villain?

This verse from Ephesians has been familiar to me since childhood, when I went to Vacation Bible School with a knights and castles theme and learned about the armor of God. We learned each piece of the armor and spent craft time making a full suit out of cardboard and aluminum foil. I knew the verse so well that I missed the point entirely – until a few years ago when a wise pastor pointed it out in a sermon. 

It’s so simple, yet life-changingly profound – and it was right there at the beginning the whole time:
“Our struggle is not against flesh and blood…”  – so if it has flesh and blood it is NOT my enemy. 

That politician you can’t stand? Not your enemy.

The police officer who killed George Floyd? Not your enemy.

The protest group occupying Capitol Hill in Seattle? Not your enemy.

The researchers developing vaccines for covid-19? The people helping to fund that work? The people at the grocery store who refuse to wear masks? Immigrants and refugees? Active members of the KKK? 

NOT. YOUR. ENEMY. 

This also means that this armor of God that is described in Ephesians 6:14-18 is not intended for use against other human beings. Most of it is for defense anyway. But the word of God, which is described as the sword of the Spirit (v. 17), was never meant for us to use to attack people. If it has flesh and blood, it is not my enemy.

There is a real enemy operating on a whole other plane, and his purposes are well-served if he can get us distracted from the true struggle by leading us to believe a story in which other people – especially other Christians – are our enemies. If he can get us fighting each other about temporary things, he can carry on with his true purposes to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10) without much resistance. Jesus was clear on this: 

Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. (Matthew 10:28; see also Luke 12:4)

The next time you feel yourself being drawn into a battle, pause and consider the enemy. Does it have flesh and blood? If it does, then this is the wrong enemy and the wrong battle. This is the diversion. Ready your armor and be prepared to engage the true enemy.