Psalm 131 - 5 minute read

For some people, the idea of being alone is scary; for others, being quiet is seemingly impossible; for most, both are really hard. Our world today is riddled with distractions, populated with countless shiny, differing ideas grabbing for our attention.

Worries and anxieties about money, relationships, and status often fill our heads and can set us in a burnt-out, discontent, and bitter mindset at the end of the day. Maybe you think that being alone means you’ll have to confront a part of yourself that you would rather leave alone. And being quiet — holding your tongue? No chance. Everyone’s got an opinion to share, a two-cents to give, some prime “wisdom” to dish out.

Is this really what life is supposed to be? A cycle of worrying and competing and caring too much?

Our Western culture celebrates pride, ego, and ambition as the  most important marks of a "successful" person. But the Way of Jesus celebrates other marks as successful: humility concerning what we know and who we are; hunger for deeper relationships and a more Christ-like personal ministry; health in our lives — spiritually, relationally, emotionally, physically, and vocationally; and humor in the ways that we view the world, taking our mission seriously but not always ourselves.

Pride is overvaluing ourselves, undermining others, and under-appreciating the things that God has given us.
Presumption is ambitiously pushing life to its boundaries at the cost of how we live our lives and love others.

These things can skew our minds, misguide our hearts, and weigh-heavy on our souls, complicating our relationships with ourselves, with others, and with God.

At their core, pride and presumption both assume, "My way is better than Jesus's Way." Dismantling these things and deconstructing this way of thinking is key in escaping the unease and unrest of busy, overly ambitious lives.

The spiritual disciplines of silence and solitude are tools we can use to reframe the way that we see ourselves, others, and God. They are alternatives to the fast-paced, achievement-oriented, quick-speaking way of living life that so many have tricked themselves into. But they are not passive vacations from the responsibility of each of our personal ministries. Rather, they are opportunities for prayer.

The Desert Fathers (and Mothers) of the third century — early Church founders of the Christian monastic tradition — did not see silence as not speaking, but as listening to God. They did not see solitude as being alone, but as being alone with God.

Attentive silence, and relational solitude.

"Silence is the home of the word ... Solitude is the furnace of transformation."
– Henri Nouwen, The Way of The Heart

Silence fights pride by saying that your words are not the most important and God's wisdom is better.

Silence allows us to anchor our whole being in the Word of God and to anticipate the words that will be needed. How many conversations have been had that might have benefitted more from silence that words thought to be wise — even words that  were indeed wise? Silence breeds a humble spirit, which allows us to better teach and learn, counsel and advise, fellowship and worship. Silence teaches us to speak, yes, but it also teaches us to listen. Silence provides a foundation to the heart that is needed for speaking only the creative and restorative power of the Gospel. Silence unfolds the infinite, beautiful richness of the Word of God. True silence is held in the heart, not in the mouth or the mind.

Solitude fights presumption by slowing you down for time away from distractions and time with God.

Solitude pushes us out of a compulsion to be relevant, to be spectacular, and to be powerful. Solitude asks us to realize that nothing so deeply human, no sin, no failing, no mistake, is alien or shocking to us, thus transforming us to be more compassionate. Solitude extinguishes both judgement — seeing others for the wrong that they have done and the right that you have done — and comparison — seeing yourself for the wrong that you have done and the right that others have done. Solitude pushes us to be (often painfully) aware of our brokenness, so that we might know the suffering of others so well that we simply forget their sinfulness and show only love.

Saint Anthony the Great, the "Father of All Monks"

Psalm 130 - 8 minute read

Have you ever felt the full weight of your actions so heavily that you have been crippled by shame? Is there a difference between guilt and shame, and what do they mean in the light of the Cross? How do we respond to God in the face of sin, shame, and suffering?

1 "Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord;
2     Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive
    to my cry for mercy.
3 If you, Lord, kept a record of sins,
    Lord, who could stand?
4 But with you there is forgiveness,
    so that we can, with reverence, serve you.
5 I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits,
    and in his word I put my hope.
6 I wait for the Lord
    more than watchmen wait for the morning,
    more than watchmen wait for the morning.
7 Israel, put your hope in the Lord,
    for with the Lord is unfailing love
    and with him is full redemption.
8 He himself will redeem Israel
    from all their sins."

Psalm 130 is one of seven "penitential psalms," or psalms of confession; the others are Psalms 6, 32, 38, 51, 102, and 143, and together they cover a wide range of human emotion.

In the first line of Psalm 130, it's easy to see just how gripped by sadness, sorrow, and suffering the author is. He uses a clever metaphor, “the depths,” to give us some insight. In Hebrew thought, “the depths” — deep, dark waters — represented chaos and disorder. They represented and often referred to "Sheol," the realm of the dead, somewhere you did not want to be. A deep sense of pain has surrounded the author, and to him there seems to be no way out of the chaotic rush of intense negative emotions.

He feels like he is in "the depths," as if he's dead (or might as well be). Quite literally, he feels as if life is Hell.
We have all been there.

But, surprisingly, there is a bright side. Even from the "depths of despair," as it were, he is waiting with eagerness, anticipation, and confidence — hoping — for God’s compassion on him. In fact, he says he is more confident that God’s loving forgiveness will come than he is that the sun will rise in the morning.

Sometimes when we're in the middle of hard circumstances, we might feel like we must have done something wrong. We might even know exactly what it was. It's not that God is punishing us, but that sin naturally brings about relational, emotional, and even physical pain.

Distinguishing between guilt and shame is important in our discussion of sin and hope.

Guilt is being held accountable for poor decisions and actions.
Shame is the dreadful, piercing, crippling response to our actions.

Guilt is taking ownership of our sin.
Shame is letting our sin take ownership of us.

Guilt says that you have made mistakes.
Shame says that you are your mistakes.

The author of this Psalm is confessing his sin and anticipating forgiveness not only for himself, but on behalf of Israel. He is acknowledging his guilt, but it pales in comparison to God's forgiveness, so much so that he wants to share that relief and freedom with everyone around him. There is no room for shame; instead, he is interceding for a people that have turned against God. Even in his pain, he compassionately makes room for the pain of others in his plea to God:

                       “Israel, put your hope in the LORD,
                               for with the LORD is unfailing love
                               and with him is full redemption.
                          He himself will redeem Israel
                               from all their sins."

In this way, Psalm 130 is related to the many prayers of the prophets and people of Israel. Ezra and Daniel, among many others, constantly pray on behalf of God's people. Ultimately, the end of this Psalm, like all Scripture, points forward to Jesus's life, death, and resurrection — the ultimate and final act of intercession that rescued us from the oppression of shame, blotted out the reality of our guilt, and granted us an eternal victory over sin and death.

In his letter to the early followers of Jesus in Rome, the Apostle Paul explains how the Resurrection establishes a new way of living for Jesus's community even in the middle of sin and suffering. Paul paints a picture of this new reality that people are invited to live in and through by hoping in Christ.

Paul is saying something radical to us and to the Roman followers of Jesus he was writing to in the first century:
If you have placed your hope in him, Jesus's sacrifice, which brought unfailing love and full redemption, has made you wholly innocent. He himself has redeemed you — not only Israel — from all of your sins.

That seems too good to be true, but it isn't. Elsewhere in his letters, Paul says that faith is what gives us relief in our suffering. The author of Hebrews tells us that "faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see" (Heb. 11:1). Faith is the assurance that what we are hoping for in the future is actually available to us in the now.

Only by faith can we know that Jesus is the LORD from Psalm 130, and only by faith can we hope surely in his forgiveness — as surely as the sun will rise in the morning.

In Romans chapter 5, the Apostle Paul makes another remarkable (and hard to imagine) claim, this time about suffering — about being stuck in "the depths," whether we can pinpoint the reason or not.

Suffering increases our hope because it is only by Christ's suffering that a way has been made for our trust in God's promise of forgiveness, for infinite clean-slates, and for access to God's own self-giving love. This has incredible implications for our bondage to shame. Even though God may seem distant in our suffering — even though the circumstances seem too hard, "the depths" too deep — our suffering has already been redeemed.

By God's perfect grace and love, suffering — the very thing that had been both the root and result of shame in every man, woman, and child since the exile from Eden — now puts shame to death forever.

Psalm 129 - 5 minute read

If we're honest, this Psalm might make us a little uncomfortable. It is the song of a tired people pleading for justice against and rest from constant violent oppression; but it is also their testimony of their confidence in God’s constant loving faithfulness.

Let’s take a look at the literary structure of Psalm 129 to see what it reveals about God’s heart for His people.

It's important to remember that — like Jesus, the Word of God — Scripture, also the Word of God, is equally human and divine. While it is faithful and true, and gives divine wisdom about what it means to be a person, it is also literary art. This doesn't detract from Scripture though, it makes it that much more remarkable! Because the Bible is an ancient piece of literature, some of the techniques it uses to tell stories can seem foreign to us. Whether it's phrases, words, story structure, repetition, or even ideas, being familiar with these literary devices can be helpful when we are trying to discern the meaning from a tricky-to-understand piece of Scripture.

There is one particular literary device commonly used in the Bible that can help us understand the meaning of Psalm 129 a little more clearly — the chiasm.

A chiasm is a poetic device that uses a precise repetition of words, phrases, and ideas to highlight the writer’s main point and to make comparisons and connections. The repeated ideas can serve to emphasize each other, or contrast each other. The center of the chiasm is often the most significant part.

Here is an example of how the entire story of the Bible is a chiasm to help visualize the structure:

   A: Genesis (original Creation)
            B: Law and Prophets (prediction of renewal
                 and new covenant)
                   X: Gospels (life of Christ, new
                        covenant enacted, most important)
             B’: Epistles (description of renewal and
                   new covenant)
   A’: Revelation (New Creation fulfilled)

These chiastic structures can be found all throughout the Bible, but it will take some practice to spot them. Eventually, as you practice years of reading and re-reading Scripture, you'll become more familiar with the way it tells stories and you'll be able to spot these things on your own! Let's take a swing at one together.

If you read closely and carefully, you can see that Psalm 129 has lots of repeated words, phrases, and ideas that are structured around a center point. Let’s break it down:

The Flight of the Prisoners, c. 1896-1902, James Tissot, 22.7 x 29.7 cm
Jewish Museum, New York, NY.

Psalm 128  -  4 minute read

Throughout the entire biblical story, it’s clear that having a family is hard work. Especially in the book of Genesis, there seems to be so much division among brothers and sisters, within families and with relatives, and between spouses.

The widely used translation of two words in one verse in particular has made our understanding the “why” behind this hard reality a little harder. It’s a verse that we typically understand to be a curse on the actual event of child labor, but it's actually a bit more complicated than that. Let’s take a look:

Genesis 3:15
     “To the woman [God] said,
           ‘I will greatly multiply
                Your pain in childbirth,
           In pain you shall deliver children;
       Yet your desire will be for your husband,
           And he shall rule over you.’”

Wait a minute. So, God punished Eve with physically painful labor in childbirth? Well, not really. Of course, you don't have to think about it much to see that childbirth would be painful — even before sin! Let's dig into the language to see what's really going on.

The Hebrew word for childbirth doesn’t actually mean the moment of giving birth to children — herayon (spelled here in English letters) refers to the entire process of making, carrying, and raising children, not just the exact, physical moment of birthing children. It is a word that carries heavy interpersonal, relational, and social implications.

And the word for pain here is not the word for a bodily pain or harm. Rather, itstsabon (again, in English letters) means toil and hardship, “a pain.” It’s used in the next verse (verse 17) to describe the man’s relationship to the ground. This kind of pain refers to the emotional and physical toll that difficult circumstances can have on human minds and bodies.

God isn’t saying “Eve, because you disobeyed, giving birth is going to be painful.” That would be cruel! He's saying that because humanity has chosen to go their own way and embrace selfishness and self-preservation, the circumstances in which children are conceived and raised will naturally be filled with painful, complicated relationships.

The thing that ought to have been a blessing — “be fruitful and multiply” — becomes quickly twisted and is often naturally traumatic for the characters in the Genesis story, and as we know, the same is true for us today. Because humans often choose themselves, relationships apart from God might be filled with jealousy, competition, deception, mistrust, bitterness, abuse, and manipulation.

Genesis 3:16 is a small preview into each generation of the stories in Genesis, and it's anticipating the relational turmoil that humanity will experience as they raise families. At some point, each one of us has felt jealous, deeply hurt, or betrayed by someone close to us. And the thing is — each of these families was a part of God's bigger plan for humanity! They did many of the right things, and it was not enough.

But, when a family fears God — when people trust in God’s way of doing things — that turmoil fades away. As people trust God, they choose themselves less; and as people choose themselves less, they choose others more. Eventually, jealousy, bitterness, and manipulation will lose their place among selflessness and are replaced by marks of God's character: love, joy, mutual trust, and respect.

Hagar and Ishmael by George Hitchcock, c. 1850-1913 112 cm x 162 cm

Psalm 126 - 5 minute read

God created humanity to be in relationship with Him. This is clear even from the very beginning. Hebrew word Eden — a beautiful garden high on a mountain where humans had perfect proximity to God — means delight. It was here that humanity first shared in God's joy at their fellowship and adopted it as their own. Today, we often find ourselves out of proximity to God and away from home, so to speak. Here is a quote that sums up the way many Christians view their relationship with God from The Return of The Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming by Henri Nouwen, a priest, theologian, and author.

“For most of my life I have struggled to find God, to know God, to love God. I have tried hard to follow the guidelines of the spiritual life — pray always, work for others, read the Scriptures — and to avoid the many temptations to dissipate myself. I have failed many times but always tried again, even when I was close to despair.

Now I wonder whether I have sufficiently realized that during all this time God has been trying to find me, to know me, and to love me. The question is not “How am I to find God?” but “How am I to let myself be found by him?” The question is not “How am I to know God?” but “How am I to let myself be known by God?” And, finally, the question is not “How am I to love God?” but “How am I to let myself be loved by God?” God is looking into the distance for me, trying to find me, and longing to bring me home.”

In Luke 15, we see a beautiful example of God's delight in His children; a story that illustrates how, even when we fail to trust God, when we offend Him, when we selfishly reject His way of living life, He is overjoyed by our return to Him. This story is commonly known as the Parable of the Prodigal — or "Lost" — Son. You may have heard it. But Jesus didn't title his parables, and neither did the biblical authors. That came way later, when the Bible was being organized into sections by chapters and verses.

Nouwen says that he thinks the story should be titled "The Story of The Two Sons" because of the emphasis it puts on the elder brother's resentment of the celebration and his lack of joy at his brother's return. But most of all, this story emphasizes the father's compassion toward both of his sons. The son that selfishly rejected him only to return when he realized his wrong, and the son that stayed and obeyed but grew bitter when it mattered. Maybe the story should be titled "The Story of the Delighted Father," because of the giddiness, grace, and compassion that he greets and celebrates the return of his son with.

Many of us have our own experiences with walking away from our place at home with God. We might think that for some, that is a long and one still in progress, but for others, that story is one far in the past. But we leave the table more often than we might think.

Nouwen, again, words it most potently: "I am the prodigal son every time I search for unconditional love where it cannot be found.”

When the prodigal child returns, the compassionate Father offers no scolding, no look of disapproval, no lecture or lesson. Instead, he offers only forgiveness, love, and the joy and excitement of an elaborate party. His son is finally returning to a relationship with with him, and he is delighted beyond belief, beyond attention to custom, beyond tradition, beyond containment. So, he runs to meet his son and holds him in his arms, close to his heart.

The same is true of our return to God. Whether the journey home was long and hard or a few steps away. Whether we return to Him or are rescued by Him. He eagerly runs to meet us and transforms our tears, our grief, and our sorrow with His compassionate embrace. He replaces our brokenness by sharing His own infinite joy with us and offering His own glory to us.

And for those who never left or who have already returned, He asks to realize the proximity we have had to Him and to be transformed by that proximity into a picture of the Father Himself. The Father calls the elder son out of bitterness and encourages him to act like Him: to selflessly and compassionately participate in the giving, to step into the same pure joy himself because he had the gifts of the Father all along.

Rembrandt van Rijn, The Return of the Prodigal Son, c. 1661–1669. 262 cm × 205 cm.
Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg

Psalm 127 - 3 minute read

If you are building a life for yourself motivated by intentions apart from God's, it’s empty. Using wisdom — trusting in God's  design for human flourishing — is foundational to building a fruitful life with Him.

Psalm 127 is written by David’s son, Solomon. But why does Solomon have the authority to tell us about how to build a life with God?

In 1 Kings, after David dies, Solomon inherits the throne. And right at the start of his reign, God appears to him in a dream and essentially says, “Ask for whatever you want, and I will give it to you.” Immediately, Solomon takes a posture of humility and gratitude, setting himself as a “little child” in front of God. Famously, Solomon asks God for a heart with the ability to discern between right and wrong so that he can rule and govern God’s people on His behalf — "wisdom."

The most common Hebrew word for wisdom, spelled with English letters, is chokhmah. It is an artisanal word for bending, subduing, and creating with the materials of knowledge. In other words, wisdom is like wielding understanding carefully and skillfully, like a tool, in order to craft a beautiful life for yourself.

Scripture shows us that 'the fear of the LORD," or trusting in God’s way of doing things, is the key to wisdom, and therefore necessary for building a truly beautiful life. Surrendering control and depending on God to guide your hands as you build is the foundational step to crafting a fruitful life with Him. Unfortunately, that's tricky for us. But we aren't alone.

When Solomon asks for wisdom, the Hebrew words for right and wrong (again, spelled with English letters) are tov and ra. These same words appear all throughout Scripture, but Genesis 2 is the first time they appear together and connected to the idea of wisdom and understanding. So, let's take a look how this story illustrates the wrong ways to approach gaining wisdom:

"In the beginning..." God placed two trees in a beautiful Garden.  One of the trees gives anyone who eats its fruit access to the life-giving energy of God. The other tree — a tree for understanding right and wrong, knowing between tov and ra, is dangerous — it leads to death. God places two humans in the Garden too, so they can rule and govern Creation on God's behalf, but He warns them to not take from the tree that leads to death.

Eventually they take the fruit for themselves, defining good and bad, tov and ra, in their own terms and for their own purposes, instead of building on God's way of doing things. Because of their lack of trust in God, the humans, Adam and Eve, are exiled from the Garden and cut off from the other tree — the one that leads to life.

A desire to know between good and bad wasn't Adam and Eve's mistake. After all, they were created to rule on God's behalf, and being able to discern between right and wrong is necessary for any good ruler. Adam and Eve's mistake was seeking wisdom apart from God. What Adam and Eve took for themselves, Solomon asked for and freely received. He chose the tree that leads to life, and used God's wisdom to build on a foundation of respect and trust in God's way of doing things.

Psalm 125  -  3 minute read

Humanity has a way of making pictures of grace imperfect. Even Mount Zion, a sacred place and the home of the temple, was twisted by man and became a "den of robbers." But God Himself reversed this when the truly unshakable mountain became the perfect man, an incorruptible picture of God's everlasting, unshakeable grace.

Throughout the Bible, God displays His character and reminds His people what He has done through physical demonstrations — "miraculous signs and great wonders." Often, though, humanity turned away from God despite seeing these things. Time and time again, they failed to trust in His character, and they forgot what He had done for them. Even still, He remained unchanged and He continued to offer them second chances.

After centuries of humanity's refusal to trust God, He offered Himself to humanity, coming to His people as a one of them, as a man named Jesus, in order to undo thousands and thousands of years of rebellion and corruption and bring humanity back to God.

16 "Out of [Jesus’] fullness we have all received grace in place of grace already given. 17 For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. 18 No one has ever seen God, but the one and only Son, who is himself God and is in closest relationship with the Father, has made Him known" (Jn 1:16-18)

In the incarnation of Jesus, there came a physical demonstration of God's faithfulness — God Himself become human. Sent by and with the authority of the Father, through the power of the Spirit, Jesus performed many "signs and wonders" to reveal His divinity and share God's compassionate heart with humanity.

Jesus Christ came as a reminder of what God has done for mankind and as a fulfillment of what God would do; he told many about a new way of being human, a way of living marked by God's very own person; and ultimately, by and through his death and resurrection, he came to freely give a gift that had already been received a thousand times:

Grace upon grace upon grace upon grace upon grace upon...

John Martin, Calvary, c. 1830-1840. 38 cm × 61 cm.
Yale Center for British Art, New Haven, Connecticut

Psalm 124 - 2 minute read

Remembering what God has done enables us to boldly trust what He is doing and confidently hope for what He will do.

If it hadn't been for the LORD, what would have happened? How would your life be different? Maybe you would have given up on a passion or a dream. Maybe you would be far less joyful. Maybe you wouldn't even be here today. Maybe you would have gotten exactly what you wanted and it would have destroyed you.

Throughout the Hebrew Bible (the Old Testament), God acts on behalf of His people's best interest. Sometimes, that looks like a harsh but fair judgement on a lost and disobedient nation. Many other times though, He delivers Israel from danger, sees them to victory over an enemy, or leads them through chaos to safety. Israel's leaders and kings often found themselves thinking back, reminding the people and asking themselves, "If it had not been the LORD..."

King David believed that God was the type of God who bursts forth for His people, who steps in and comes to the rescue. David wrote Psalm 124 reflecting on this in his own life. But a lot of the time, when we look at our lives or the world around us, it seems like God doesn't always burst forth. What if it feels like He's forgotten to come to the rescue?

If the visible world is all there is, then it can be hard to believe that God is for us. But there is an invisible, spiritual world that God is working in as well. Here are three words of teaching and encouragement the Apostle Paul wrote to two different early churches, Ephesus and Corinth, as they were feeling discouraged and overwhelmed by their circumstances:

John Martin, Joshua Commanding the Sun to Stand Still upon Gibeon, c. 1816. 150 cm x 231 cm.
National Gallery of Art, United States