September 28, 2013 § Leave a comment
“Encountering God’s grace is a formative, creative moment as a result of which a person is not only graced by God’s love but also becomes gracious because of God’s love.” Scott Hoezee, The Riddle of Grace
You have to know that I’m a creature of habit. Rarely does a week pass when I don’t do the same thing – the exact same thing, on particular days. On Thursday and Friday, unless something wildly spectacular beckons, you will find me in my little, peaceful Dunkin Donuts, in line to get my extra large coffee (with an occasional donut). Friday afternoon and Saturday mornings are reserved for Starbucks, but Dunkin Donuts sustains me through the week. This week was no exception.
But on Friday, at the counter in front of a long line, was a woman who commanded a huge order. We’re talking boxes and boxes of donuts, bags of bagels, etc. It took forever, and somewhere in the course of the transaction, the volume on her voice began to rise. Those of us in line took note, observing the woman while wondering how the staff would respond. In spite of their patience and attentiveness, she became even louder, and we, more uncomfortable.
Unfortunately this led another younger woman to pass by her and offer some exchange – I have no idea what was said or done, but this only intensified the moment. The two women dropped the ‘f-bomb’ on one another, and we stood in shock. One of our church Members, a football coach, was there as well. Men, women, children – all there to witness this surreal moment.
And I thought about it all morning. What was that all about?
A bad day?
A hard heart?
A misunderstood person?
A misinterpreted gesture?
A hurt, wounded human under pressure?
Every instinct within me wanted to presume motives, rush to judgment and ascribe blame. In the moment, the Clark Kent in me wanted to turn into Superman to rescue the situation – but that would have been like throwing gasoline on a campfire.
No, it was one of those instances when the façade of a neatly packaged day came unglued and exposed at the seams by the ever-present ugliness of the curse.
I thought it was ‘them.’
Didn’t see that coming.
“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” Jesus, John 8:7
Thank you, Jesus – You are our good news…
August 31, 2013 § Leave a comment
Frederick Buechner, The Magnificent Defeat
Field of Dreams, is one of my favorite movies because it taps into our deep yearning for wholeness. Ray (played by Kevin Costner) is compelled by a whisper-ish voice that inspires him to build a baseball stadium in a corn field in Iowa. The movie’s most enduring line is, If you build it, they will come. But the haunting refrain that pulses throughout it is, Ease his pain.
Much happens between Ray’s first encounter and movie’s end, but the most touching scene comes when he is brought face to face with his father who had died years before. Their reunion and exchange close the movie. However just before engaging his dad he realizes that the voice that inspired the construction of the field was his own, and only a journey of pain and uncertainty would bring him to that point.
So it is with us. The prospect of facing life uncensored and raw is terrifying because it is personal, but the gospel cuts through our layers of resistance to take us ‘there.’ Mysteriously, at one and the same time God enables us to face ourselves, and then live out of that reality without pretense, as He satisfies our God-given desire to be seen for who we are – and yet still be loved.
I am reminded of Joshua’s commissioning, where Moses says, The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged,” (Deuteronomy 31:8), asserting the promise and principle that there is no place God will ever lead us that He has not already been.
It is ‘there’ that God heals our pain with Christ’s pain, our sorrows with Christ’s sorrows and our brokenness with Christ’s own death, demonstrating that He has already been ‘there’ on our behalf, and has completed our broken stories with His own. In short, He eases our pain.
Such good news…
February 18, 2013 § 5 Comments
Last week, Maureen O’Connor, the former Mayor of San Diego (and widow to the Founder of the Jack in the Box burger chain) admitted to misappropriating (stealing) millions of dollars from a foundation in order to feed her gambling habit. In the course of nine years she won and lost a billion dollars. Wow!
Hey, we’ve all done horrible things and the point of this post isn’t to trash a person for committing a sin (or would that be a billion individual sins? Who’s counting though…), it is to speak into the way O’Connor was able to shape her confession in order to minimize the public response and consequences for her crime. Because of a brain tumor (we are told), she became another person. This is the argument. In her words, “There were two Maureens – Maureen No. 1 and Maureen No. 2…” Her assertion goes something like this: Maureen No. 1 (the good Maureen) didn’t know what Maureen No. 2 (the bad Maureen) was doing. Apparently she has been given the kind of plea deal that corporations often get with big time tax evasion.
Let me see if I understand… The Department of Justice is mad at Maureen No. 2, but is charging Maureen No. 1. Or is it that it is punishing Maureen No. 2, but Maureen No. 1 gets a vote? I’m confused.
Sounds like a lot of No. 2 to me…
Oh sure, there could be some credibility to such an explanation. But it occurred to me that we never hear this story in the opposite order, do we. We never hear someone say, ‘And then I developed an illness that turned me into an over-the-top generous person.’
No, we never hear it the other way around. It is always that the condition drives worse behavior. And no wonder why we lose faith in pastors, politicians and corporate executives, and anyone else who holds the public trust.
But wouldn’t it just blow you away if some public figure one day stood up, after some magnanimous accomplishment, and said, ‘Please don’t give me credit, I’m usually an overbearing SOB, but my tumor turned me into something inexplicably benevolent, and I can’t control it! That wasn’t the real me.’
Here is the thing: God doesn’t beat up sinners. He forgives them. Pretending our sin to be something other than what it is only deafens us from His sweet invitation to be made clean, a plea to approach a throne drenched in the mercy of Christ, and then to dance to the sweet song of forgiving grace.
The alternative is… well, it’s just confusing.
So let’s recap: God has a throne. He invites sinners to confidently approach it. On this throne sits Jesus, the One who has paid for the very sins we confess. And from this throne He dispenses mercy.
That sounds like good news to me…
February 16, 2013 § Leave a comment
This is the path Jesus has called us to. It is a path of courage and compassion, resolution and healing that goes into the dark and difficult places of the world and brings the redemptive, restorative light of Jesus Christ. Shayne Wheeler
It will be rare that you will find my blog to be a shameless plug for a book (much less for one I didn’t write!), but this one is warranted. Friend and fellow pastor, Shayne Wheeler has come out with what I consider to be an important book for believers, who desire to follow Jesus, but who find the pursuit to be a difficult, and sometimes-lonely path.
Shayne lives with his wife Carrie, and their children in Decatur, Georgia where he pastors All Souls Church, a ministry that has successfully and beautifully reached into the margins of culture without sacrificing the integrity of the gospel.
More than anything, his book, The Briarpatch Gospel: Fearlessly Following Jesus into the Thorny Places, aligns with the message of this blog. In telling his story, Shayne paints the picture of an unfinished one who is shaped by God through the influences, people and experiences that have dotted his life in his journey with Jesus.
Shayne pulls no punches – with himself or us. He confesses sin, admits weakness, owns up to failure and offers glimpses into his own stumblings, all in a successful effort to draw the focus away from himself and towards Jesus.
Dive into the book and you will wish that you had read it sooner in your journey, while at the same time wondering if you can continue reading, as the dangerous, risky and loving Jesus challenges you with every step.
I was fortunate to be given a prescreening of the book, and so before it became available I was able to already count it among my favorites. Through the years I have begun to write a few books that one day may make it to press, but if I were to take one that someone else had written for my own, this would be the book.
Get it friends, and enjoy the feast. It will be your good news…
February 10, 2013 § Leave a comment
I cannot sit idly by in Atlanta and not be concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Letter From Birmingham City Jail
I celebrate Black History Month. Quietly, but joyfully. Each February I encourage our church members to do so as well, not only in heart, but also by taking in the culture, the food, the readings and the stories, often accompanied by a shameless plea to our African American brothers and sisters for a taste of the cuisine.
This year one of our families took this to heart and brought us to Darker Than Blue, a wonderful Soul Food restaurant in Baltimore, replete with live Jazz (pictured) and the lovely and peaceful atmosphere of a quaint dining establishment. And I was delighted when a member told me that she is reading through Uncle Tom’s Cabin.
I can tell you that we have been the beneficiaries of much more than good meals and evenings together. It is as though we have been welcomed into a trust forged out of pain and suffering.
A few years ago a friend asked why I do this, and why not other ethnicities that have experienced pain in their histories – a question worth considering. In answering, it may be worth starting with my own background.
In the early 20th Century the Ottoman Turks invaded Armenia and my grandparents (on both sides) were driven away by threat of death. One and a half million Armenians died in this attempted genocide, and the world’s relative indifference to their suffering became Hitler’s rationale for his ‘Final Solution’ (his plan for exterminating the Jews), to his skeptics.
My grandparents came to America by different routes, some via Iran and others through Egypt – all eventually came ashore at Ellis Island. America’s shores were open to them as with other people groups with dreams for living on our soil. They didn’t have to come – they chose to. And so Armenians celebrate being Armenians with Armenians!
We celebrate Black History as a nation because those who came from Africa didn’t have this luxury. They were forced to America by the slave trade. Men and women, boys and girls were treated like animals, considered property that could legally be beaten, raped, sold, even murdered. They were sold and auctioned publicly. Their ‘owners’ determined the limits of their rights as humans. The Slaves’ children were destined to the same oppressive existence.
Growing up in the sixties and seventies I remember the national and local tensions of the Civil Rights Movement, and then the Black Power Movement. The explanations from a white-leaning media. The rationalizations. The revisionist history. The images. The violence. The deplorable indifference to documented acts of injustice and cruelty. Jim Crow laws.
We’ve had the privilege of hearing stories from those who were ‘there,’ the stories behind the food and the stories of faith and resolve in the face of obvious national unrighteousness. A Vietnam Vet who, along with fellow black soldiers, constantly found themselves put on the most dangerous side of missions. A woman whose sister went to jail in Selma, and who herself rode the Freedom Buses. The stories are real, and the history is recent.
We deplore human trafficking today because we finally acknowledged the deep sin of our nation’s involvement in the slave trade, and then its nasty implications more than a century past Abolition.
But it wasn’t only a nation.
It was the Church too.
Many bought into the lie that said that one human being carried less value than another, simply based on the color of her skin – while teaching that ‘all ground is level at the foot of the Cross.’ From a Birmingham Jail Dr. Martin Luther King wrote, pleading local white pastors and churches to strong, persistent and determined action.
We celebrate courageous people like Rosa Parks, Frederick Douglass, Dr. King and Harriet Tubman because they acted out of their conviction for justice when it was costly and they were quite alone.
But they shouldn’t have been.
So we celebrate. If we were not to celebrate then we would have no right to plead the cause of the unborn, or call the Church to care for the plight of the weak. We celebrate to not forget or grow cold and indifferent to the injustices we could otherwise so easily pretend to not notice. We celebrate because the gospel freshly informs us that there is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus (Galatians 3:28).
And this is our good news…
January 26, 2013 § 1 Comment
This week marks the 40th Anniversary of Roe v. Wade, the landmark decision to legalize abortion in the U.S. My friend and fellow blogger Tom wrote thoughtfully and passionately on the issue in his current post and it is well worth the read. I want to offer thoughts on the subject with hopes that an often-disregarded dimension might be considered.
First, I am pro-life. I offer this humbly and with deep conviction. In spite of the Church’s often insensitive and clumsy way of dealing with moral and cultural issues, I am convinced and bound by the undeniable biblical premise that God alone gives and takes life. And I believe that every abortion ends the life of a living baby. I know how thoughtless this must sound coming from a man, when in fact it is women who become pregnant – I get that. Really I do.
But for the Christ-follower, male or female, this isn’t a matter of choice beyond choices that have already been made by the time pregnancy occurs. It is about God’s prerogative to bring life into the world and the value we are called to treat life with – Life we see at birth and life we recognize even while still in the womb.
And what this means is that neither politics nor gender issues are the Church’s rationale for such conviction. Which makes it all the more difficult, because I am convinced that we are not a political organization and have wasted far too much credibility in our often-pitiful attempts to play with weapons of the flesh rather than those of the Spirit. But we are called to something.
There is a peculiar verse in Exodus 7 where God tells Moses, ‘…I have made you like God to Pharaoh…’ (vs. 1). He could simply have given Moses a plan to execute, but He adds this little statement, meaning that Moses would essentially be the divine presence of God on behalf of an oppressed people – to their oppressor. He would give them voice. This is the way God works. He always calls on the strong to champion the plight of the weak. Jesus never failed to notice, care for and serve the broken, and He would pass this principle down to the Church in His simple words, ‘In as much as you have done it to the least of these…’
In other words, the Church has been called to recognize and champion the weak, the broken and powerless as if it were God Himself doing the caring.
Because He is.
The scriptures call this justice.
But here is the thing – I know women who have had abortions – old and young women – women I hold dear – women who love Christ and His Church. Hurting women – women who carry sorrow with them – years of sorrow. Someone’s daughter – Someone’s mother – Someone’s sister. Women who feel they could never share their stories with the Church for fear of being driven more deeply into shame. And not only women who acted out of their own shortsightedness and selfishness, but women whose parents were more concerned for their own reputations, and pressured their confused and terrified daughters into abortions. Women whose husbands and boyfriends declared that love would be abandoned if they had their babies. Women whose pastors agreed it wise to quietly put their troubles behind. My blood boils as I think of these sweet women. This is what happens when it is personal – and it is. I see faces and names – and that is a good thing. And this means that I owe something to the women I don’t know as well.
You see, their lives matter too. And no amount of railing and accusation on my part, or on the part of the Church, can make them feel worse about themselves than they already do. And why would we any way? What they need is what everyone needs, what I need, and what we so passionately proclaim – that Jesus has the power and desire to heal our wounds and forgive our sins. That none of us is damaged goods to the One who makes all things new.
Here is the thing, friends: If the Church has ‘been made like God’ to the weak, then it has utterly failed in her mission for not recognizing the fragility of these dear and wounded ones.
In fact, I believe the Church has forgotten this many times over, and in her zeal to stand for truth she has often insensitively trampled the sorrows of many, and has violated the very principle of the value of life that she claims to champion in the first place, leaving many to feel as though they are damaged goods we are trying to sweep the world clean of. And this simply isn’t good enough.
And I guess this is where I want to land. Because the Church isn’t called to converge on Washington DC, though it should be unashamed in seeking justice for the unborn. It converges at the Cross. And whether in the womb, on the ground, or near the end of life, the Church is bound to love the weak, and to do so with such force of love, peace and grace, that any would feel safe to come out from hiding and rush to taste the sweet, healing waters of Jesus, the One who became sin and shame for us, that we may be made righteous – through no goodness of our own.
That would be such good news…
January 19, 2013 § Leave a comment
So here are my reflections on Lance Armstrong and his recent admission of using Performance Enhancing Drugs to enable his athletic achievements:
First, I don’t know him – Stating the obvious, I know, but important – We tend to base our feelings for public figures on athletic triumphs, cinematic moments and political feats. But we don’t know those people. The nicest ones publicly, may be monsters behind closed doors, and the harshest may be most tender. Lance Armstrong is an image on my TV screen and online newswire. He isn’t my friend nor my enemy. He is as real to me as Spider Man. The people who matter to him see him differently than I imagine him to be.
Secondly, I’m not his judge – The last thing I want to do is expose my garbage by going after someone else’s! Oh, yeah, hey, I’m as opinionated as the next person, and if you engage me in a conversation about Armstrong, I’ll offer tons of commentary. I have strong feelings about whether or not he should compete again. Not to mention that as an ex-ball player who had next-to-zero athletic abilities, I am disappointed by the whole enterprise of cheating in sports. But what I can’t do – and won’t do – is decide his fate. He is judged by his own actions and words. Just as I am. Whenever a public figure falls it is natural to fit the mitigating circumstances into the injustices and disappointments we have experienced in own lives. We have invested something into their personae, and have sort of embraced them for ourselves – this is our own idolatry, which often leads to harsher reactions – I get this. But do I know the sincerity of his admission? You know the answer.
Third, I am also not his Liberator – Those of us who preach and teach God’s grace can be prone to quickly admonish natural reactions to disgraced public figures, almost to deny honest responses for fear that rushes to judgment will obliterate the gospel. But that isn’t my job. A public admission is good for a public moment. And because I don’t know him (see above), I have no idea of the damage he has caused others. This is important. Insensitivity to one’s victims is equally insensitive to the gospel. Hey, God’s grace can’t be real for me if it isn’t real for Lance Armstrong. This is what the apostle Paul consistently weaves into his teachings. But it is God’s grace, not mine. And it would be presumptuous and damaging – to Armstrong’s victims, and to Armstrong himself, for me to make some kind of pronouncement as to his current standing. Regardless of my opinions or pronouncements, anyone in Armstrong’s position has a long journey of healing. If I am not his judge, then I can’t possibly be his liberator. But, along with every other unfinished soul, I would welcome him to our church community with the very hope I live in, that Jesus offers a path to restoration.
Here is a good question to ask yourself: After the natural revulsion (I’d be lying to say I didn’t feel disgust), what direction do your desires lead you into? The answer reveals more about your story than Armstrong’s. But like him (whom I don’t know, won’t judge and can’t liberate), we are the product of many secrets, struggles and regrets. And our comfort is that we have been set free by the only One who can liberate us, and whose desires were found in the direction of the Cross.
Friends, why would we not wish this good news on all?
September 8, 2012 § 2 Comments
Through the years, if you asked my parents which gift they most regretted buying me, they would respond that it was the watches they giftwrapped. Back in the 60’s and 70’s, for a while my timepiece was enveloped in one of those embarrassingly wide leather bands. However, growing up I lost nearly every watch I had been given. My parents finally wised up and realized that I didn’t like being bound by time, because mysteriously (though not purposely) each watch would disappear.
That isn’t the case now. I wear my watch (also a gift) nearly every waking hour.
I think there is something in all of us that resists constraint. We don’t like being told that something we can or want to do, is forbidden.
But there is no such thing as life without limits. We know this instinctively, though we fight it relentlessly.
We teach this to our toddlers when they are convinced that running fearlessly into the street is safe. We bank on this when a teller receives our personal ID numbers at the bank, and when we type in our PIN number at the grocery store in front of the cashier.
Hey, it will always fly politically to say that a person has the ability to call their own shots, and control their own destinies, even their bodies. But as Christ-followers, this isn’t our metric.
The gospel is.
And the gospel liberates us, not by oppressive, unbiblical restraints often imposed by insecure churches and Christians, but by Jesus, who modeled self-sacrifice.
So we may have the right to trash our enemy, but as Christ-followers, we’re not allowed to.
We may have the power to respond to offense with offense, but Jesus modeled love against His aggressors.
We may have the authority to run our offices with tyrannical indifference, but Jesus demonstrated humility.
We can call our money, our bodies, our lifestyles and our ‘stuff’ our own, but the gospel says that we don’t belong to ourselves.
Paul discovered this in his inability to overcome some nagging sin or malady in his life, only to be told by God that it would be His (God’s) grace that would satisfy, and not Paul’s ability to self-perfect (1 Corinthians12:9).
Paul’s problem is our problem – He hated his own deficiencies and limitations. In his warped version of faith he would be good enough to live independently of God’s grace. And I have learned that my own resistance to human limitation is less about justice and more an angry protest against God, an exercise that always reduces my world to a population of one (me).
And it is exhausting!
Here is the real question: Do you really want to spend an entire lifetime striving to obtain your own independence from God? Because that is what this is really about.
Or will you simply rest and trust Him with who you are, believing that He loves you more than you hate your own limitations and deficiencies, and any other constraint this fallen world brings?
Friends, I don’t want to fight. I want to live. And this means that I need to admit that an unrestrained life doesn’t fill the vacuum – God does. And the wildly crazy thing is that at the moment we acknowledge this, we actually are free!
So my choice is simple: Either I fight for an unrestrained freedom I will never obtain in this lifetime, and wouldn’t enjoy if I did, or I am liberated to rest in the fact that whatever constraints I may have, are swallowed, not by self-destructive permissiveness, or angry defiance, but by the Father’s unrestrained grace.
And liberated from self, I am free to enjoy a much simpler version of myself and enter into the lives of others. How sweet is that?
This is good news.
August 4, 2012 § 10 Comments
Getting a haircut is an every-two-week ritual for me. If Floyds is open, all is right with the world. Floyds bills itself as ‘the original rock and roll barbershop,’ and it is the only place I ever look ‘ministerial’ (hence the picture). Yesterday the talk of the shop was Chick-Fil-A – I just listened and enjoyed.
If you were to ask our congregation here in Maryland, they would tell you that I bend over backwards to not discuss politics from the pulpit. We don’t distribute voter guides. We don’t discuss candidates and we don’t politicize the gospel – ever. Period.
It isn’t that I am apolitical, but that politics don’t figure into the Kingdom of God in the way that many seem to think. Jesus isn’t a capitalist, nor is He a socialist. He is the King. He is not subject to, nor bound by the flaws, loopholes and blind spots of any socio-political system. He is above them. As we sing each Christmas, His law is love and His gospel is peace – Welcome to my political platform.
John calls Jesus ‘the ruler of the kings of the earth’ (Revelation 1:4-6). This is Jesus. He bows to no one. He subscribes to no candidate. He cannot be contained by any single philosophical structure. The moment one thinks they have Jesus figured out, they are left in the dust.
I often say that Jesus (as with His gospel) is more liberal than liberalism and more conservative than conservatism. He is better than the best of every system known to humankind and He is immune to any of their weaknesses. He is unafraid to champion social justice before rigid conservatives, and He is unashamed of objective truth before soft liberals. He is neither. He is above both. He loves the weak. He embraces the poor. He engages the rich. He challenges the strong. He saves Republicans, Democrats, Tea Partiers, Communists and Libertarians alike. He walks in mixed circles. His friends are sinners.
You may not like this but be glad it is true.
So please don’t tell me that our politics cause Him, even for a moment, to flinch.
Friends, we easily get so wrapped up in the wrong things. And I believe that if we were to dig deeply into our own hearts we would discover that we are not protecting the gospel in our politics, but ourselves. Let’s be honest. Our relationships and life experiences shape much of who we are and how we view the entire world. To whittle ourselves down to some political platform only reveals part of our own stories. But to leave it there is to limit our view of the gospel’s ability to heal, inform and shape us.
I would argue that anyone so reactionary to current events, who would either ruthlessly condemn or blindly follow; angrily react, or snobbishly dismiss, is not guided by political principle, but pride, or fear, or pain – or all-the-above. But not Jesus.
For me, I would just as soon have a spirited political debate with friends who enjoy getting in my face, and vice versa, right before we argue over football schedules, or David Letterman’s Top Ten. None are more important to the One who never wearies in seeking lost sheep and healing broken lives. Both my liberal and conservative friends respect this, and for this I am in their debt.
You need to know that your politics don’t even register on Jesus’ scale, and that is a good thing. In the mean time, His intolerance is for those who disregard the call of the gospel. To the Perfect One, all are unfinished.
So in the mean time…
If they are hurting, let’s not allow their politics determine our responses
If they are broken, let’s hold them until Jesus mends them
If they are angry, we are to be ‘soft answers’ that turn away wrath
If they are rebellious, we can still be their friends
If they are thirsty, naked, homeless or lost, then Jesus has put us in their path to give them drink, clothing, shelter – or just a hand…
Anything less is trivial to the King, because His passion has never been about idealism. It is His Father’s glory – and it is you.
I overheard that too – and it is good news…
July 27, 2012 § 2 Comments
I’m sick. Out of the blue. It is so inconvenient and debilitating (yes, it’s true, it also provides me with material for this post – life can be a tradeoff…). We are staying with dear friends in Miami as I am to speak at a Memorial Service this evening, but here I am, taking antibiotics, vitamins and Extra Strength Tylenol in between Kleenex runs and short naps mandated by my weakened and exhausted frame.
It got me thinking. When we are sick we are compromised. There are no two ways about it. Even these past few days, writing tonight’s message, Sunday’s sermon and this post are all the more difficult by my thick (thicker than usual) head, and that achy, slow, dare I say, sweaty reality of being sick! Fortunately God is giving grace to navigate each day and responsibility, message-by-message and delivery-by-delivery. But it isn’t easy. I’m distracted by myself, compromised by my malady.
It is this way with sin too, you know. We’ve all experienced it. As with David, when something wrong is hidden in our lives, that is, when we are caught up in sin, whether a fantasy that takes hold of our thought lives, or some overt act of rebellion that we refuse to walk away from, we are compromised. We lose our focus on life as it is meant to be lived. We are unmoved by the things that bring delight. We are cold to those we love. We miss what is lovely and are indifferent to what should bring sorrow.
I know. We think we can manage it all. We convince ourselves that nothing changes by our little indiscretions and wicked thoughts.
But it does.
When I am sick I am extremely defensive (Katherine would say that I’m like a two-year old baby – and she’s right). I don’t want to be touched – only left alone to sweat it out and hopefully recover in short order… or die. I can’t see straight. I don’t think sanely. Just leave me alone. It’s all about me!
I think this is what happened with David. He got turned on by the girl next door. Okay, he should have been at war and not peeping in on a bathing beauty. So no big deal, right? Wrong! Within months his sin had snowballed and before he could draw back the shower curtain, he had impregnated the woman, deceived his commanders and murdered the woman’s husband (oh I forgot that detail – the woman was married).
Yeah, it affects us. And it robs us. And in the end, we don’t even enjoy what we thought would make us happy. David ended up miserable, alone and terrified.
Psalm 32:3 – For when I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long.
He was sick. Compromised. Guilty.
And it wasn’t until a prophet confronted him that David stopped hiding and came clean, only to discover that though his sin came with consequences, he was no longer compromised but forgiven and restored.
Psalm 32:5 – I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not cover my iniquity; I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the LORD,” and you forgave the iniquity of my sin.
Can the news really be this good? Indeed, friends, it is.
Now please… leave me alone!