OUR HOPE IS IN THE LORD

“Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. I say to myself, ‘The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.’  The Lord is good to those whose hope is in Him, to the one who seeks Him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.”  (Lamentations 3:21-26 NIV)

At a time when I thought my world had all but ended, when the realization was hammering at my heart that my daughter's death was not some nightmare from which I would recover but was for all time, a friend came into the room, put her arms around my neck, and said, "Everything's going to be all right."

I thought she was crazy.  And yet.... and yet.... was it possible that she was right?

I had occasion, some years later, to be the consoler of a young woman whose son had lapsed into a coma from which he would not recover, and my words to her were the same.  "Everything's going to be all right." And I felt my friend from that earlier time standing beside me, nodding - See, that's what I told you.

Improbably though it seems when grief first assaults us we do come to learn, though the surface of our life will often be in turmoil, that on a deep and unshakable level there is indeed a confidence that all is well. 

Until that happens, we cling to the testimony of others and take hope: if for them, why not for us, too? 

-- Martha Whitmore Hickman in “Healing After Loss”

#6412

THE BITTER END

“‘Don’t call me Naomi,’ she told them. ‘Instead, call me Mara, for the Almighty has made life very bitter for me.’”  (Ruth 1:20 NLT)

Naomi’s making a pun here that gets a little lost in the translation, unless you read your Bible notes. Her name means “pleasant,” but since life hadn’t been very good for her for a long time, she asks her people to call her Mara, or “bitter,” instead.

Naomi and her family moved out of Israel, when a famine threatened, and went to Moab. After more than ten years, her husband and sons died. Naomi returned to Bethlehem with nothing but one of her daughters-in-law, Ruth. It wasn’t a happy return, so when people asked, “Is this really Naomi?” she responded with the above sentences.

Like Naomi, we may have bitter days. Everything that surrounds our lives seems unpalatable. Perhaps we see no hope for the future and could respond as she did. But like Naomi, when we feel that way, we are not looking at the end of the story. As long as we live, God is not finished writing our tale. This bitter patch may be the dark part of the story that just precedes the happiest parts of our lives. If we give up, we’ll never reach the best part of the story.

When we hold on til’ the bitter end, like Naomi, we may find it isn’t bitter at all. She found herself the center of a loving family, with a grandson to carry on the family name. Best of all, God used that infant to create something of eternal value – he became a forebearer of God’s Son, Jesus Christ. Could anything that created the Light of the World remain bitter for long? 

-- Pamela McQuade, from “Daily Wisdom to Satisfy the Soul,” published by Barbour Publishing, Inc. Used by permission.

#6411

THE GOSPEL MEASURES US

“For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.”  (Hebrews 4:12 NIV)

Every now and then someone comes up with a phrase which leaves you thinking, "I wish I'd said it that way." Prof. G.L. Carter did it to me this week when he responded to one point in last Sunday's sermon by commenting, "It seemed to me that you were saying, 'Instead of asking whether the Gospel is relevant to us, we ought to be asking if we are relevant to the Gospel'." I felt that G.L. had summarized the matter perfectly; I wish I had done as well.

You see, this is the forgotten mood in much current theological chatter: not whether Christianity is relevant to us, but whether we are relevant to Christianity. We are not the measuring stick of the Gospel; the Gospel measures us. We do not set a standard for the faith; faith has set the standard, and the only really relevant question is this, do we meet the standard?

There is a certain inherent arrogance in all the talk about relevance. I suppose, in the end, that this is why I usually find the word not only trite but distasteful. We seem to think that we can treat the Gospel the way we treat the television screen, switching to another channel when the theme doesn't please us.

Without a doubt the church sometimes misshapes the Gospel until it ceases to be relevant. But I'm sure that sometimes modern man accuses the Gospel of being irrelevant when in truth it is only discomfiting. He needs then to remember that the Gospel judges him, and it is his own relevancy which is at stake. 

-- Ellsworth Kalas (1923-2015), originally published on December 15, 1966 in the newsletter of First Methodist Church of Madison, Wisconsin. Source https://ellsworthkalas.com/blog.

#6410

WHAT'S THE POINT?

“I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.”  (Galatians 2:20 ESV)

When I first met the great Jesuit peacemaker and poet Father Daniel Berrigan, I wanted his advice about the life that lay ahead for me, but I didn't know exactly what to say. "What's the point of all this?" I finally asked him. Dan took my awkward question seriously. "All we have to do is make our lives fit into the story of Jesus," he said. "We have to get our lives to make sense in light of the Gospel." 

What a helpful answer! I never forgot it. The Christian life, I was learning, is fashioned after the life of Jesus. As His followers, we have to know His story, enter His story, and make our story part of His story. The Gospel, in other words is the measure of our lives. 

-- Father John Dear in “Transfiguration- A Meditation on Transforming Ourselves and Our World”

#6409

THE POWER OF GOOD POETRY

“1 Blessed is the one
     who does not walk in step with the wicked
or stand in the way that sinners take
     or sit in the company of mockers,
2 but whose delight is in the law of the Lord,
     and who meditates on his law day and night.
3 That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,
     which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither—
     whatever they do prospers.
4 Not so the wicked!
     They are like chaff
     that the wind blows away.
5 Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
     nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.
6 For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous,
     but the way of the wicked leads to destruction.”  (Psalm 1 NIV)

Psalm 1 contains three metaphors that bounce back and forth in a chiastic structure. This means the ideas of verse 1 match up with that of verse 6, verse 2 connects with verse 5, and verse 3 to verse 4.

The opening and closing metaphor contrasts the picture of a deceptive party seeking to corrupt travelers, and the Lord watching over the righteous, telling them what roads will lead to destruction. The second image we’re given in verses 2 and 5 contrasts the law being a source of delight for the righteous, and the wicked being exposed by it in a courtroom. The middle metaphor shows us someone being planted by rushing streams, and another being blown away by powerful winds. Both are in proximity to forces they cannot control. But whereas one is a source of nourishment to its neighbors, the other is a destructive power that tosses them about.

The use of contrast when mirroring these ideas not only makes the message of the poem clear, but compelling. The message is, “A blessed life is not a destination the wicked can point you to, but the results of enjoying the journey with God.”

The metaphor is simple. But the message is anything but. 

-- Excerpted from Lo Alaman in “Wake-up Call”

#6408