Turning Left: Clearly The Right Decision

This reflection follows on the heels of a prior reflection on God's rather pointed insistence that Paul "Turn Left." I ended the prior reflection with my shoulders shrugged and my hands in the air. Like this: \_(ツ)_/ And for several days, that's where I thought the matter ended. But as I continued to read, I discovered today a twist I had not considered before. Let's return to that map I shared on the last pass...

As the map shows quite clearly, this "Turn Left" decision took Paul on to Troas instead of Asia. Guess who was waiting there in Troas? Nobody important. Just Luke, the man who authored the book of Acts that I'm now reading.

Yes, I'd known that there was a turning point in the book of Acts, where Luke suddenly starts pointedly using the phrase "we". The first time he does so?

Acts 16:6-10
Paul and his companions traveled throughout the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been kept by the Holy Spirit from preaching the word in the province of Asia. When they came to the border of Mysia, they tried to enter Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus would not allow them to. So they passed by Mysia and went down to Troas. During the night Paul had a vision of a man of Macedonia standing and begging him, “Come over to Macedonia and help us.” After Paul had seen the vision, we got ready at once to leave for Macedonia, concluding that God had called us to preach the gospel to them.

It feels quite strange to find myself using the exact same map and exact same passage from scripture, just a few days later, and this time seeing a connection there that I never noticed before. I find myself imagining Luke's growing awareness of the significance of the events surrounding Paul's first pass through Troas.

I myself have a special friend that God brought into my life by a set of bizarre circumstances. It was immediately clear that God's action had brought us together, but only as the friendship continued to grow did I more fully appreciate how very much came from a very small beginning. (Irony of ironies... this dear friend I speak of hails from Istanbul, Turkey. I met *my* friend by turning right where Paul turned left.)

Returning to Luke, I have to imagine that a few years passed before he began to begin to understand how very much had blossomed out of a seemingly small decision. If Paul had turned right, their lives would not have intertwined as they did. Or perhaps at all. I used the word began for a reason, and it's too generous by half. Luke could not possibly have begun to understand how his writings would impact the world after they took their rightful places in the new Testament.

If. Mystery.

But to reduce the answer to our question down to one variable is surely too simplistic. I don't think God was thinking only of Luke in the midst of all this. My 2 cents say that God was also focusing Paul in on a particular piece of geography, the purpose being to strengthen and build the base of God's church in Macedonia. Asia would have to wait. That is wild speculation, to be sure, however I do note the confluence of these two threads (Luke and the strengthening of the Macedonian church) in the passages that follow.

(What a debt of gratitude I owe to the countless Bible scholars who have sifted all this stuff before! My Bible commentaries have been a great help to me, today.)

So why do I see these two thoughts coming together seamlessly? Well, note first that Paul met Luke at Troas, but left him in Philippi. I won't get into the passages that make this conclusion clear, but this is the general consensus view, and it leads us to to the $64,000 question: When does Paul meet Luke again? Most pointedly (to me, anyway), he does so on a return journey described repeatedly as one motivated by Paul's desire to strengthen the churches he had planted on the prior pass.

Acts 18:23
After spending some time in Antioch, Paul set out from there and traveled from place to place throughout the region of Galatia and Phrygia, strengthening all the disciples.

As if to complicate the time/space continuum even further, Paul's decision to return to Jerusalem (Acts 19:21) is delayed by a riot in Ephesus (Acts 19:23-41) which leads him to instead go where?

Acts 20:1
When the uproar had ended, Paul sent for the disciples and, after encouraging them, said goodbye and set out for Macedonia.

Macedonia. Isn't that where the man in the vision asked Paul to come in the first place? Am I reading too much into this? Let's keep reading.

Acts 20:2-6
He traveled through that area [Macedonia], speaking many words of encouragement to the people, and finally arrived in Greece, where he stayed three months. Because some Jews had plotted against him just as he was about to sail for Syria, he decided to go back through Macedonia. He was accompanied by Sopater son of Pyrrhus from Berea, Aristarchus and Secundus from Thessalonica, Gaius from Derbe, Timothy also, and Tychicus and Trophimus from the province of Asia. These men went on ahead and waited for us at Troas. But we sailed from Philippi after the Festival of Unleavened Bread, and five days later joined the others at Troas, where we stayed seven days.

Wow, I've never felt such a need to bold different sections in a tight passage of scripture, all to track the interactions of four distinct entities: Paul, The Church, Macedonia, and Luke. Let's unpack again, taking it from the top.

A riot in Ephesus seemingly changes Paul's plans. He decides to encourage the churches he has planted where? Macedonia.

After three months in Greece, Paul prepares to return to Syria by sea, but upon discovering a plot he instead heads where? Macedonia.

And, having abandoned his original plans to return by sea, who does Paul meet up with (yet again) in Troas? Luke.

The outrageously bizarre circumstances that bring Paul and Luke together in two different cities on two separate occasions bring to mind two quotes from slightly more contemporary sources. For fans of the play Hamilton we have this: "We keep meeting!" Follow that up with this observation from the James Bond movie Goldfinger. After meeting James Bond for the third time, the evil mastermind Auric Goldfinger comments, "Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action."

Paul has certainly been facing enemy action, too, but the highly ironic twist in this story is that the enemy is not itself Macedonia, nor is the enemy even from Macedonia. But enemy action keeps driving Paul to Macedonia. And when he gets there, he keeps meeting Luke. As can be seen in the below image, Paul ends up passing through Macedonia twice on this journey, the second pass being the one in which Luke joins Paul in a partnership that continues through to the very end of the book of Acts. Spare a thought for Paul's enemies who unwittingly help him to not merely strengthen the nascent Macedonian Church but also to reconnect with Luke.

If one thing is clear from all that we are reading, it's that God has none-too-subtly pinned Paul to a prescribed route, accomplishing the task by means of both angels and devils alike along the way.

A parting thought. I entertained a number of conjectures in this reflection, but there are also enough facts to, I hope, leave us encouraged. In particular, having recently myself suffered a setback at the hands of an evildoer, I find it mightily encouraging to see how events that were setbacks for Paul were not setbacks for God. In Paul's life God used evil people with evil intentions to accomplish good for Paul, for the Church, and for Luke.

And, eventually, for us! We are, after all, the recipients of Luke's gospel account as well as his account of the early church, neither of which we'd have likely ever seen if God had not used the agents of both heaven and hell to get Paul to Turn Left.

Planting Gardens In Prisons

I heard a quote in church yesterday, and it moved me. It is taken from the autobiography of Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom, in which he described his long incarceration on an island prison.

I've never spent time in a real prison, but I am certainly a prisoner to certain formative themes in my life. I suppose we all are. I have escaped (or been freed from?) some of these prisons. Others seem very much to be a part of my present reality. This blog post is not the forum to delve into the details of these metaphorical prisons, but suffice it to say that I have had particular reason in recent weeks to reflect on the nature of them and my limited hopes for a full escape. Enter this story...

Nelson Mandela, leader of the anti-apartheid movement spent nearly 30 years in prison in South Africa. He would go on to lead his nation toward a better future after his eventual release, but that hope was not on his horizion while he rotted away in prison. Year in. Year out.

So what did he do while he languished in prison? Among other things, he planted a garden. Here are the words that touched my heart this morning:

“The Bible tells us that gardens preceded gardeners, but that was not the case at Pollsmoor, where I cultivated a garden that became one of my happiest diversions. It was my way of escaping from the monolithic concrete world that surrounded us. Within a few weeks of surveying all the empty space we had on the building’s roof and how it was bathed the whole day, I decided to start a garden and received permission to do so from the commanding officer.
...
A garden was one of the few things in prison that one could control. To plant a seed, watch it grow, to tend it and then harvest it, offered a simple but enduring satisfaction. The sense of being the custodian of this small patch of earth offered a taste of freedom.”

I am not the first to have been captivated by what Nelson shared. I see this quote all over the internet, but for me it is fresh and new.

We are all captives to various forms of bondage, and most of those chains are buried in our souls. That being the case, these words challenged me to reflect again upon a simple question. "What, Pilgrim, do you want to plant in your prison garden?" One might reasonably exclaim, "Why plant gardens when you can escape?" I'd reply just as quickly, "Why seek grace and forgiveness when you can just as easily live a perfect life that doesn't require them?"

Yes, ideals are wonderful, but we live in the world of the broken. So what will we do within the confines of the walls we don't know how to scale? What Mandela did in his bricks-and-mortar prison is what we ought to do our figurative prisons. Plant a garden.

In planting a garden, we nurture life. We foster growth. We encourage all that is good, from a plant's perspective. Of course, plants don't have a great deal of perspective when compared to humans, but plants do want to grow, and when we garden, we enable them to do so. That's a good thing.

The fact that I found this quote from Nelson Mandela moving ought to be quite amusing to those who know me. Gardening is not on my short list of favorite activities. Or my longer list. But the thought of gardening as a metaphor captures my heart today. I want to encourage life. To foster growth.

I found this picture of the island where Nelson spent decades of his life. I don't know if Nelson had a view like this from his prison cell, but I suppose he had some view from time to time of the water and, on the other side, Cape Town. I share this image here because in it I found myself reflecting on what it would take to swim the distance.

Perhaps it's too far a swim, but my thoughts had little to do with the physical realities of Robben Island. I was thinking in metaphors. Before I share where my mind was going, however, let's first return to something else Mandela shared regarding his garden.

“Each morning, I put on a straw hat and rough gloves and worked in the garden for two hours. Every Sunday, I would supply vegetables to the kitchen so that they could cook a special meal for the common-law prisoners. I also gave quite a lot of my harvest to the warders, who used to bring satchels to take away their fresh vegetables.”

Nelson could not escape that island. But some of his vegetables clearly did, and the rest of them served to nurture and strengthen the bodies of other prisoners. Though I didn't hear this portion of the quote from the pulpit, it (on both counts) points where my mind was already going as I sat in that church service.

In my mind's eye, I found myself imagining a person raised on that island from birth. A lifelong prisoner who during key periods of childhood lacked the nutrition necessary to develop a full, strong frame. This stunted person has no hope of swimming to distant shores by his own strength. But what if there are others on the island? Little ones who can yet attain full strength tomorrow if only they are well fed today. My heart leaped to the eager conclusion. A garden for others can be a very beautiful thing, indeed. Even in a prison.

Some prisons are of our own design. Some forced upon us by others. Some perhaps decreed for us by the mouth of God for reasons we'll never understand fully here on Earth. But I am certain of two things. First, we all experience them, and second, it is the character of God at work in us to desire that we all be freed from them.

By God's grace we may ourselves escape some prisons. Perhaps not others. But there will always be gardens that we can plant. Souls we can nurture. We can express something of the nature of God by fostering life. Even in a prison. By God's sovereignty we can perhaps help others to walk upon those shores that we ourselves are destined only to see. Writing these words reminds me of a passage from scripture:

Deuteronomy 34:1-5
Then Moses climbed Mount Nebo from the plains of Moab to the top of Pisgah, across from Jericho. There the Lord showed him the whole land—from Gilead to Dan, all of Naphtali, the territory of Ephraim and Manasseh, all the land of Judah as far as the Mediterranean Sea, the Negev and the whole region from the Valley of Jericho, the City of Palms, as far as Zoar. Then the Lord said to him, “This is the land I promised on oath to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob when I said, ‘I will give it to your descendants.’ I have let you see it with your eyes, but you will not cross over into it.” And Moses the servant of the Lord died there in Moab, as the Lord had said.

"Turn Left." (God Said It First.)

I've been reading through the book of Acts recently, and this morning I found myself jotting an odd phrase down on a map in my Bible.

I wrote those words after reading this mysterious passage.

Acts 16:6-10
Paul and his companions traveled throughout the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been kept by the Holy Spirit from preaching the word in the province of Asia. When they came to the border of Mysia, they tried to enter Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus would not allow them to. So they passed by Mysia and went down to Troas. During the night Paul had a vision of a man of Macedonia standing and begging him, “Come over to Macedonia and help us.” After Paul had seen the vision, we got ready at once to leave for Macedonia, concluding that God had called us to preach the gospel to them.

You can see it on the map. Paul and his companions kept moving northwest from Antioch, prevented by circumstances (not elaborated upon) that kept them from turning toward a more easterly direction. We know that the Holy Spirit was behind those circumstances, but what exactly were they? Human hostilities? Bad weather? Travel practicalities? "The bridge was out?" We'll never know.

But one thing we do know: the problem became more pronounced (at least as I read it) as they approached the Sea of Marmara. Paul and his companions had reached a hard-stop T-Intersection and I am here to tell you, friends: They wanted to turn right.

But God would not let them.

It's almost humorous. The Holy Spirit weighs in first. The Spirit of Jesus himself seconds the motion. Unwillingly, it seems, they turn left. But God wants that left to be a big one, so God gives Paul a vision in the night so as to avoid all confusion. The message?

"TURN LEFT. LEFT! LEEEEEEEFFFFFT!"

This mysterious story invites many questions, almost all of which are beyond the scope of human wisdom to answer. One question does seem to be clearly answered, however. Was it important that these men, in that moment, turn left? Umm.... Yeah. Apparently it was. Apparently it was really, really, really important that they turn left. So they went to Macedonia instead of Asia.

But go ahead and ask that next question. Why was it was important that they go to Macedonia? We'll never know. We have no idea why God did not want them to go to Asia. We only know what happened because they went to Macedonia. Of course, the actions of these men were not the only inputs into the history that we now know. But ask any historian worth their salt and they'll tell you: Paul's missionary journeys impacted the course of human history in ways hard to exaggerate.

Perhaps now is a good time to explain my comment in the subject of this reflection: "God said it first." I added that because there is a false god named Dr. Who who inhabits a certain television series by the same name. At the end of the day, it's silly entertainment, but the series is written with intent, and the authors are not Christians. In fact, they are atheists, but they long for a good God, and Dr. Who is their version of him, best I can tell.

An episode titled "Turn Left" is perhaps one of the best-known of the episodes recorded in recent years. I don't want to be sucked into too many details on this, but in this episode a young woman is faced by a similar decision. Turn right? Or left? It turns out to be a decision that impacts not only the fate of Dr. Who but also the course of human history and the fate of the universe.

So there isn't too much at stake.

She turned left, as it works out, and that was good. The problem is, Dr. Who's enemies wanted the other outcome, and so the episode is largely devoted to watching Earth go to hell in a hand-basket (and Dr. Who die) because Dr. Who's enemies went back in time and arranged things so that the woman would instead turn right.

The happy ending to the episode (spoiler alert) is that someone gives up her own life and steps in front of a truck for the sole purpose of creating a traffic jam to the right, thus nudging our other heroine to, once again, turn instead (collective sigh of relief) to the left. History is set right again. (I am reminded of someone else who set history right by means of a sacrificial death. It seems that the atheists writing Dr. Who are searching for a suffering servant, too.)

At the end of the day, Dr. Who is just another TV show devoted to entertaining couch potatoes and, too often, yanking the rug out from underneath the gospel of Jesus Christ. But it's worth noting something. In Dr. Who episodes, we get to see what awful outcome has been averted. In real life, we don't have that luxury. That is sometimes frustrating, but the good news is that, while Dr. Who is not real, God is. And he can be trusted not merely with the outcomes that happen but also with those that did not.

We'll never know what didn't happen because Paul and his companions turned left. But we can trust that it was what God wanted. That's all we really need to know. The gospel of Jesus Christ is universally a good thing, but God did not call Paul to share the gospel in Asia. Period. God called Paul to spread the gospel in Macedonia instead.

This story should be of some comfort to those of us torn between two good things. God is sovereign. And he knows how to get us where we want us, not least if we are listening. And even if we're not hearing, God has a way of making himself heard. Paul was not a reprobate. No rebellious teen, he. No. Paul was a founding father of the global church, to the extent any human can make claim to the title that rightfully belongs to Jesus Christ alone.

If Paul needed multiple nudges from the Spirit of God and a vision to boot—all just to keep him from turning right—then we will need God's help too.

And by the evidence of this passage, I think it's safe to say that when we need God's guidance, we'll get it.

To be continued...

God-Spotting: Episode 4

I had just been to a men's breakfast (this morning) where our guest speaker shared a memory of noticing in his bank account (in the 1960s) he had about $2,000. He had been trusting in God to provide, but now that the money was there, he was starting to trust in the money.

No surprises where he went with this observation: We need to keep our trust in our eternal God on both occasions. When we have money. And when we don't.

I came home and was handling a bit of online banking and noted with satisfaction that there is money in the bank. I'll need it in the coming months. Looks to be a high-learning and low-earning moment in my life.

And then I remembered what that man had shared. Good reminder. Yes, Lord. Please, help me.

Then I turned to another browser tab to get some music playing for the day. Google Play was already in the middle of the song I had hit pause on the night prior. I don't know the songs that well by title, so as I hit play, I really had no idea what I'd hear, lyric-wise. As I did so, the thought entered my mind: "Could these lyrics confirm what I just was thinking?"

Temporary riches lie.

Those were the first words I could discern.

As is my wont, I became curious enough to go online and get the full lyrics. The song, titled All My Tears is from the band Jars of Clay. The song has nothing to say about wealth... except the section that I heard when I clicked the play button.

Gold and silver blind the eye
Temporary riches lie
Come and eat from Heaven's store
Come and drink and thirst no more

Thank you, Lord, for that gentle word. Thank you, Jars of Clay, for your prophetic ministry in music.

Choose Your Addiction Wisely

A friend of mine recently lamented in a blog post that he had recently "looked at [his] iPhone for easily the 300th time" that day.

I understand that addiction, because I have those same urges. It's part of our nature. The makers of our phone know all about it and have optimized the manipulation of those tendencies to their own ends. To the extent we succumb to their manipulations, we are slaves to both our phones and those who run them.

This morning I continued my reading of Henri Nouwen's book Reaching Out. Ironic title, is it not? When we reach for our phones we are reaching out. Reaching in hope of a hit of joy. The lit reward that indicates someone loves us. (That's the hope, anyway.) Reaching, reaching reaching. But the phone cannot deliver what we actually need.

But to return to the book, Nouwen spent several pages describing Hesychasm as it is described in yet another book, The Way of a Pilgrim. (More irony, since my pseudonym for this blog is Pilgrim!) Hesychasm is that practice of engaging in repetitive prayer. The book Nouwen discusses tells the tale of a Russian monk who walks great distances, all the while uttering the phrase, "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me, a sinner."

The juxtaposition of these two thoughts in my head, both recently imbibed, set my mind to wondering. My friend Pete was writing about the need to escape slavery, and he's right. I'd go on to add this additional suggestion. Escape that slavery to things of this earth by succumbing to a better slavery to the things of God.

For me, a small start toward that would be to utter that Hesychian prayer in those moments when I find I have the time to do either that or to glance at my phone. The reward for the latter is shallow, hollow, short-lived and leaves a metallic-tasting hangover. The reward to the former is a re-formed and re-energized mind and a heart focused on the kingdom of God. Not a bad trade.

My Problem With Jesus Is...

I heard a story the other day, and I can do no better justice than to tell it as I remember it.

So this professor at a Christian college is in the habit of starting off a course in theology by passing out a short survey. The questions are tailored to determine how the students perceive Jesus. What does Jesus believe? What's he like? How would he behave in various circumstances? What are Jesus's core values?

A few months into the course, the same professor then hands out another survey with entirely different questions designed to get a profile of the students themselves. Both surveys are gathering the same sort of information, but by means of different questions, so that students don't spot the linkage.

And when the two surveys are compared? Maybe you guessed it. Students reliably described themselves pretty much as they had described Jesus in the earlier survey. Yes, Jesus is introverted. No, he's extroverted! Monastic. No, he loved parties! A Democrat. No, a Republican! Etc. Etc.

In key attitudes and perspectives? Jesus is just like the person you've asked to describe him. According to that person, at any rate.

As the speaker recounting this anecdote noted, we Christians often pray that God would transform us ever more into the image of Christ. But in practice what happens is the exact opposite. We studiously transform Christ into our own image. And as a result, we probably think we're doing better, spiritually speaking, than we actually are. (Jesus and I see eye-to-eye on so many things!)

And that, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is my problem with Jesus: He looks way too much like me. To me.

The truth, of course, is that I don't look like Jesus. Not to Jesus, anyway.

Something here will have to give, and hopefully it's me. But how can I strive to be more like Jesus if I cannot break free from my preconceived notions of him—images of him that bear a striking resemblance to myself? Well, that thar is a bit of a problem, indeed!

Not to say we don't all know of areas where we have plenty of work to do. Patience. Grace. Forgiveness. Along these fault lines most of us are all too familiar with the ways in which we fall short of the standard-bearer Jesus Christ. But we have a fuller image of Jesus residing in our heads who's not merely sinless but also has strong opinions. What happens when we confront our constructed images of Jesus with the tougher questions?

• How much of my income should I give away?
• Should I just give to my church? How much should I send to Africa? How much to inner-city Americans?
• How much should I spend on my children's college tuition? How much on building elementary schools in faraway African towns?
• How much time should I devote to my children? How much time tutoring underprivileged kids?
• How much time should I spend reading the news? How much time studying scriptures?
• How much time should I spend watching TV and movies? Which ones are OK?
• Should I use corporal punishment with my children?
• Did Jesus tell the occasional dirty joke?
• Which political party should we vote for?
• When should I swallow injustices as good medicine for my soul? When do I seek justice through the court system?
• When do I confront someone with their wrong behavior? When (again) do I swallow the unkindness as humbling medicine for my proud soul?
• How much does Jesus care about the environment?
• How does Jesus feel about the way we treat the chickens that lay our eggs? What about chickens ones we eat?
• Should I buy used cars? Or new? How sporty?

What if, on the above questions, our go-to answer is not WWJD but rather WWID cloaked in WWJD gift-wrap? Uh-oh.

But here's another Uh-oh to lay next to the first. What if we don't even notice that the list of questions itself reflects our own fixations? The list I've thrown together here reveals my personal idiosyncrasies. When I pause and try to imagine another person's list, I can imagine a few questions that perhaps should be of concern to others but are of no concern to me:

• How much effort should I put into looking pretty each morning? Does Jesus want me to dress nicely?
• Should I get involved in running for office?
• Does Jesus want me to include XYZ corporation as my customer?
• How does Jesus feel about the gambling industry? Is it OK for me to go to Las Vegas occasionally?
• How does Jesus feel about cage fighting? Doing it? Watching it?

Suffice it to say, there are many important questions. Sadly, to the extent we answer them at all, we tend to answer them according to our own leanings, and not with the mind of Christ. And there are other questions that matter a great deal to God but which we haven't even bothered to think about just yet.

Yikes. That's not an attractive package, and I have no solutions or pat answers to this problem because it starts deep within you. Deep within me. But I do offer two closing thoughts in the form of a challenging question and a personal prayer.

The question: If Jesus got into an argument with you over something, what would it be about?

The prayer: Dear God, please transform me into the image of Jesus. The real one. Not the one my pampered soul wants and imagines.

Truth Is, Psalms (And Life) Can Be Deceptively Complicated (II of II)

In my prior blog on this topic, I noodled over the seeming disparity between what King David wrote and what he did. I found the wide divergence amusing, but saw no evidence of a crime. It's just that mystery in life. We pray (and need to pray) for God's guidance and deliverance. But in practice we have to make decisions and do our level best to escape bad situations as best we can. More often than not, our own hot little feet have something to do with our freedom from bad situations.

But there's another little paradox hiding in the two Psalms I have been reading of late, and it's not hard to find in other Psalms, either. Here is an example:

Psalm 34: 21
Evil will slay the wicked;
    the foes of the righteous will be condemned.

The Psalms sometimes seem divorced from the ugly realities of the world we live in from day to day. The verse we just read does not easily square with basic political geopolitics. Vladimir Putin is an old man now, and he's been up to unspeakably evil things for decades. Assad has been ruling Syria since 2000, and in the intervening years has taken the entire country to hell; he is personally responsible for millions of refugees and hundreds of thousands of civilian deaths. Then we could talk about the multi-generational dynastic evils present in North Korea. And we can't forget Mugabe, a nonagenarian nutcase who has worked hard over the past forty years to transform the relatively stable and pleasant country of Zimbabwe into just another African nightmare.

With all due respect to the Psalms, sometimes the wicked have a great deal of staying power—and that is both a mystery and a disappointment. But the paradox that has my attention today lies the opposite direction. The seemingly abundant optimism we find prevalent in the Psalms can seem no less divorced from our day-to-day realities than the assurances that the lives of the wicked will be cut short.

Psalm 34: (excerpts)
I will glory in the Lord
    let the afflicted hear and rejoice.

I sought the Lord, and he answered me;
    he delivered me from all my fears.

This poor man called, and the Lord heard him;
    he saved him out of all his troubles.

On first blush those words seem awfully optimistic, don't they? Great stuff if you're in a chipper mood and life is good. But when life has served you lemonade, verses like these can leave you wondering, "When will these promises apply to me?" Sometimes the promises we find in portions of the Psalms don't seem to have played out as advertised in our own lives, and that, too, is both a mystery and a disappointment.

Now these are not new insights, and I'd wager most anyone who has spent more than a passing glance with the Psalms has wondered about such things. But what I keep thinking after further reflection is this... That optimism? It really ain't that optimistic. There are hints of what I'm talking about in the verses we've seen already, but let's look at a few more verses from Psalm 34 before I elaborate on this thought.

Psalm 34: (more excerpts)
The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him,
    and he delivers them.

The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous,
    and his ears are attentive to their cry;

The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;
    he delivers them from all their troubles.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
    and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

The righteous person may have many troubles,
    but the Lord delivers him from them all;

The Lord will rescue his servants;
    no one who takes refuge in him will be condemned.

Now what we've read so far can seem awfully optimistic, but that's only because we're (or at least I have been) focusing on the promise. Take a moment and review the premise.

When you get delivered? That's because you were a captive.

When the righteous cry out? It's because they're in distress.

When you get saved from your troubles? That's because you had them.

One doesn't become brokenhearted without experiencing heartache.

Are you crushed in spirit? That means you've been through hard times. A lot of them.

Have you seen many troubles? Well, that is the heart of the matter, isn't it? Many troubles. We could find many more verses just like these listed here. On and on it goes.

King David, who wrote this Psalm, is describing anything but the Utopian ideal that some Psalms seem to falsely promise. Utopian ideal? Hardly. Some Psalms are more optimistic than others, but this one, that on the face of it is rather upbeat... it's really an encouragement to those who have been put through the wringer. Several times.

Speaking for myself, that is encouraging. Something I can relate to. God has been with me, and God has been gracious to me. But my life has not been one long joyride. Along with David, I have seen many troubles. And God has (as David's Psalm promised) seen me through them all. I know that I will eventually face death and before that perhaps some trials that I will never fully recover from. Anyone with two eyes knows that these things do happen to both godly people as well as to the unrighteous.

But I have seen the lives of the wicked, and I'm not jealous. Assad, Mugabe, Putin and a host of less well-known evildoers may still walk this earth, but I don't envy their lives, and I am not sure they should rightly be described as alive. I think the Psalmist isn't off the mark with these men. Evil has slayed most of the humanity within them.

How wonderful, rather, to plod along with the righteous through my difficulties (both petty and profound), knowing that God, who loves me, is watching me and with me. Even when I struggle.

And one day I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.