“Confession: From the We to the I”
“Psa. 106:1 Praise the LORD!
Oh give thanks to the LORD, for he is good,
for his steadfast love endures forever!
2 Who can utter the mighty deeds of the LORD,
or declare all his praise?
3 Blessed are they who observe justice,
who do righteousness at all times!
Psa. 106:4 Remember me, O LORD, when you show favor to your people;
help me when you save them,
5 that I may look upon the prosperity of your chosen ones,
that I may rejoice in the gladness of your nation,
that I may glory with your inheritance.
Psa. 106:6 Both we and our fathers have sinned;
we have committed iniquity; we have done wickedness.
7 Our fathers, when they were in Egypt,
did not consider your wondrous works;
they did not remember the abundance of your steadfast love,
but rebelled by the sea, at the Red Sea.
8 Yet he saved them for his name’s sake,
that he might make known his mighty power.
9 He rebuked the Red Sea, and it became dry,
and he led them through the deep as through a desert.
10 So he saved them from the hand of the foe
and redeemed them from the power of the enemy.
11 And the waters covered their adversaries;
not one of them was left.
12 Then they believed his words;
they sang his praise.
Psa. 106:13 But they soon forgot his works;
they did not wait for his counsel.
14 But they had a wanton craving in the wilderness,
and put God to the test in the desert;
15 he gave them what they asked,
but sent a wasting disease among them.
Psa. 106:16 When men in the camp were jealous of Moses
and Aaron, the holy one of the LORD,
17 the earth opened and swallowed up Dathan,
and covered the company of Abiram.
18 Fire also broke out in their company;
the flame burned up the wicked.
Psa. 106:19 They made a calf in Horeb
and worshiped a metal image.
20 They exchanged the glory of God
for the image of an ox that eats grass.
21 They forgot God, their Savior,
who had done great things in Egypt,
22 wondrous works in the land of Ham,
and awesome deeds by the Red Sea.
23 Therefore he said he would destroy them—
had not Moses, his chosen one,
stood in the breach before him,
to turn away his wrath from destroying them.
Psa. 106:24 Then they despised the pleasant land,
having no faith in his promise.
25 They murmured in their tents,
and did not obey the voice of the LORD.
26 Therefore he raised his hand and swore to them
that he would make them fall in the wilderness,
27 and would make their offspring fall among the nations,
scattering them among the lands.
Psa. 106:28 Then they yoked themselves to the Baal of Peor,
and ate sacrifices offered to the dead;
29 they provoked the LORD to anger with their deeds,
and a plague broke out among them.
30 Then Phinehas stood up and intervened,
and the plague was stayed.
31 And that was counted to him as righteousness
from generation to generation forever.
Psa. 106:32 They angered him at the waters of Meribah,
and it went ill with Moses on their account,
33 for they made his spirit bitter,
and he spoke rashly with his lips.
Psa. 106:34 They did not destroy the peoples,
as the LORD commanded them,
35 but they mixed with the nations
and learned to do as they did.
36 They served their idols,
which became a snare to them.
37 They sacrificed their sons
and their daughters to the demons;
38 they poured out innocent blood,
the blood of their sons and daughters,
whom they sacrificed to the idols of Canaan,
and the land was polluted with blood.
39 Thus they became unclean by their acts,
and played the whore in their deeds.
Psa. 106:40 Then the anger of the LORD was kindled against his people,
and he abhorred his heritage;
41 he gave them into the hand of the nations,
so that those who hated them ruled over them.
42 Their enemies oppressed them,
and they were brought into subjection under their power.
43 Many times he delivered them,
but they were rebellious in their purposes
and were brought low through their iniquity.
Psa. 106:44 Nevertheless, he looked upon their distress,
when he heard their cry.
45 For their sake he remembered his covenant,
and relented according to the abundance of his steadfast love.
46 He caused them to be pitied
by all those who held them captive.
Psa. 106:47 Save us, O LORD our God,
and gather us from among the nations,
that we may give thanks to your holy name
and glory in your praise.
Psa. 106:48 Blessed be the LORD, the God of Israel,
from everlasting to everlasting!
And let all the people say, “Amen!”
Praise the LORD!”
(Psalm 106, English Standard Version. I’ve copied and pasted the whole psalm for context, but I’m only going to make some comments about something I just recently observed.)
“Every generation blames the one before . . . .” (Mike + the Mechanics, “The Living Years.”)
It is temptingly easy to blame the generation before us (or many generations before us) for all the present ills. You see this even in the Bible.
Psalm 106 starts out with thanks to God (vs. 1) and a reminder that only those who do what is right consistently can really proclaim God’s mighty acts (vss. 2-3). Then, the psalm moves to a plea for personal deliverance for the psalmist, as part of God’s deliverance of all God’s people (vss. 4-5).
Then, vs. 6 gets down to a bedrock problem: “. . . We have sinned . . . ; we have done wrong and acted wickedly.” Yep, that sounds about right for about any person or group at any time.
However, look carefully at vs. 6. I left out part of it, as shown by the three dots after the word “sinned.” The whole verse reads as follows (with italics for the portions I left out in the preceding paragraph):
“Both we and our fathers have sinned;
we have committed iniquity; we have done wickedness.”
And then, the rest of this long psalm details the sins of the psalmist’s ancient ancestors!
Sometimes, psalms reflect how we ought to pray. At other times, psalms reflect how we do pray. I think that Psalm 106 reflects how we often do pray. We may nod at our own mess-ups, but we don’t stay with that for long. It is so much easier—and more fun—to blame our ancestors.
Right now, it is both tempting and easy to acknowledge our ancestors’ racism. It is also tempting and easy to confess the sins of police officers who use excessive force or other very questionable techniques, or who make assumptions about people of color. And, of course, we can always blame our leaders. There does need to be accountability for those who are leaders or who have power over others. Agreed.
But when we spend a lot of time blaming “the other people,” whether “those other people” are from other generations or “those other people” are from our own generation, we tend to let ourselves off the hook way too quickly. And when we do that, we fail to ask several key questions.
- What forms of hidden (or not-so-hidden) racism do I practice?
- What am I doing to inform myself about racism? What books and articles am I reading that could help me to understand better what is really going on? What podcasts? In what conversations do I need to be participating, primarily as a listener?
- What can I try to do that might make a positive difference in improving race relations?
- Am I doing what I can, even if it is pretty inadequate, and late, and lame? (I have to begin somewhere, somewhen.)
My middle name is “Lee.” As in Robert E. Lee. My southern parents gave me the name. My dad was a good man in many ways, but he was definitely a racist.
However, my dad died thirty years ago this fall. Time to take responsibility for my own racism. Changing my middle name won’t help. Letting God change my heart, attitudes, mind, and actions will.
“The Big Adventure of Little Things”
One of the things I do on an almost daily basis for my recovery and sanity is a series of brief (free!) readings from Hazelden Publishing. Hazelden is especially focused on recovery from addiction, but many of their writings simply help people to live sane and mostly happy lives. In other words, these readings are good for just about anyone. Here is a reading for today:
“Saturday, June 20
The most valuable thing we can do for the psyche, occasionally, is to let it rest, wander, live in the changing light of a room, not to try to do or be anything whatsoever.
—May Sarton
A whole world can be seen through even the smallest window. Knowing this can help us slow down and enjoy everyday events. We can listen to the regular rhythms of letter carriers and school children, dogs and delivery trucks, city buses and song birds playing out a piece of their daily lives outside the window.
We can greet the letter carrier who comes up the walk, feed the robin who lands on the sill, wave to the kids who’ve found a shortcut through our backyards on their way home from school.
It is not necessary, today, for us to fill our lives with important meetings, gala parties, expensive treats, toys, or outings to be happy. There is a whole world to be discovered just outside the nearest window.
What worlds lie on the other side of my window today?” (From Today’s Gift: Daily Meditations for Families ©1985, 1991 by Hazelden Foundation.)
I think we all want to do, to have, and to experience big things. But maybe what we really need to do is to go small. Perhaps there is enough adventure in the small things for us to savor.
I am getting better at this. I used to be restless most of the time, waiting for some big thing to happen. Not so much anymore. I like looking out the window at the trees, laughing with my wife, enjoying a slow cup of coffee. I am learning that little things can be a huge delight.
One of my favorite verses is a little-known verse in a little-known book. “For whoever has despised the day of small things shall rejoice . . . .” (Zechariah 4:10, King James Version) The context of this verse is that the exiles from Judah had been allowed to return to Jerusalem. They were rebuilding the temple, with the encouragement of the prophets Haggai and Zechariah. But this temple would not be nearly as grand or big or ornate as the temple that Solomon had constructed. However, the prophets asked a question that was also a rebuke and a challenge: Are you despising the day of small things? Don’t!
Joyce Baldwin, in her excellent commentary on Zechariah for the Tyndale Old Testament Commentary Series notes, “Zechariah, like Haggai, implies that the ‘realists’ were pessimistic about the building project (Hag. 2:3), and so despised the day of small things. They wanted to see it succeed and were glad when it did, but their faith was too small. They would be surprised into rejoicing.”
Surprised into rejoicing! Yes!
“Will this Help Me or Harm Me?”
I listened to a TED Talk on resilience the other day. It was a lady who had done extensive research and teaching on resilience. Then, there came a horrible time in her life when she had to practice what she had been researching and teaching. Her twelve-year-old daughter was killed in a car accident.
You can listen to the entire TED Talk at https://www.ted.com/talks/lucy_hone_the_three_secrets_of_resilient_people, and it will do you a great deal of good. However, my main takeaway was the last of her three strategies for resilience: Ask yourself the question, “Will this thing I’m doing or am about to do help me or harm me?”
Simple question? Yes! But it strikes me as being very helpful. Before I have my second piece of apple pie (the first one was just a sliver, you understand), I need to ask the question. Before I google “corona virus news” for the third or thirtieth time today, I need to ask The Question. Before I make a cutting, sarcastic comment to my wife, I need to ask THE QUESTION. Before I decide to buy a motorcycle, I need to ask THE QUESTION.
The Bible talks a great deal about the “good and the evil.” Some scholars think that the Hebrew word, ṭôḇ, (that is often translated “good” in English) frequently suggests “that which is helpful or that works.” By the same token, the Hebrew word raʿ often means “that which is harmful or doesn’t work.”
So, I am going to go through this day, asking myself this profoundly simple question: Is this helping me or harming me?
“Frolicking with Jesus”
“But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall.” (Malachi 4:2)
When I was growing up on the farm, we used to keep the cattle in the barn during the winter. Sometimes, cows would “throw” (i.e., give birth to) their calves in early March, and Dad and I would try to get the cow and her calf into the barn, in order to keep them out of nasty, cold weather.
But then, when the weather had turned nice and the pasture grass had grown a bit, we would let the calves out of the barn. My dad told me to hide behind the door when I opened it out. “They’ll be frisky and may kick up their heels,” he said to me.
And kick they did? At least one time, one of them kicked the door, and I was very glad that I had obeyed my dad’s order. The big barn door didn’t shatter, but it did shudder. My dad and I laughed at the cows’ antics. They were so glad to be out. And I was glad to not have to feed and water them in the barn.
In response to a recent 12-step daily report and affirmation my sponsor gave me a wonderful piece of counsel. “Frolic with His Son Jesus.”
Now, I am not suggesting (nor was my sponsor suggesting) that following Jesus is simply a matter of frolicking all the time. No indeed! Discipleship can be—and is at times—very hard indeed. No faith which has a cross at its center can worship unmitigated pleasure.
However, no faith that has an empty tomb at its center can be unrelentingly stern either. The resurrection gives believers the last long laugh at sorrow and fear. In the light of Easter morning, we can frolic as well. We’ve been turned out of barn! We have room! The grass is green!
Hide behind the door; I’m going to kick up my heels!
“My First Protest?”
So, a couple of days ago, I wrote about my exceedingly timid attempt at standing with those who actively oppose racism. I mentioned various fears—close proximity to others with the danger of contracting covid-19, violence, and such.
The thing that I actually should have feared, I didn’t even consider: my attention deficit disorder.
Well, I’m not being entirely fair to myself. I did factor in my a.d.d. somewhat. I had initially planned to go to one of the protests in Cincinnati. It was at 4:00 p.m. However, knowing my proclivity for getting times, locations, and everything else scrambled, I checked again. Good thing! That was the time and place for the protest a week earlier! I felt that I had dodged a bullet, even if it was a rubber one.
So, knowing my tendency to get lost and be late, I left about forty-five minutes earlier than I needed to. I needed to allow for getting lost and finding a parking space. The parking space was no problem, but I did miss my exit, which likely cost me ten minutes. Still, I arrived half-an-hour earlier than the start time for the protest, 2:00 p.m.
Or so I thought. There were only a few people at the place where the protestors were supposed to assemble, and those few people said they were late. The protest march had started at 1:00. “No, I’m pretty sure the time was 2:00 p.m.,” I said. I checked my smart phone again, and sure enough, the time was 2:00 p.m. However, my heart sank into my tennis shoes when I realized that 2:00 p.m. was the concluding time of the protest. I wasn’t half-an-hour early. I was an-hour-and-a-half late!
I had a tremendous struggle with my inner voices at this point. They were wanting to call me some very unflattering names that involve words that I don’t normally use. I don’t think I entirely silenced those voices, but I did the best I could.
I found out from some young people at Tower Park which way the protestors had marched (toward the police station). I began walking in that direction. Perhaps I would at least encounter some of the protestors walking back to their cars at the starting location.
But even with my smart phone, I got lost. Apparently Mademoiselle Google thought I wanted to go to the Cincinnati Police headquarters, rather than the Fort Thomas police station. When I realized the error of my ways, it was already a little past 2:00. I retraced my steps to my car. The condemning voices in my head got louder. In order to shut them up, I tried to think somewhat logically. Well, I didn’t do a good job with this protest at all. What could I do? So, I made a mental list.
- I could give myself a little credit for having the courage to attempt this.
- There will be other protests. I could plan to attend one of them. Hopefully, I’ll get the time right next time.
- I am a reader and a thinker. Why not commit myself to reading books and articles (and listening to podcasts) that will help me to learn more about race relations in America?
- I am a writer. I can make some fumbling attempts at helping to change things for the better by my writing.
- What institutions that help improve attitudes toward and treatment of minorities might I help support financially?
As I walked along, I began to feel a little better about my ineffective debut as a protestor. I did encounter some folks coming back from protesting at the police station. I told them of my own ineptitude, and asked them how it went. “It was good!” they replied. “There were probably two-hundred-and-fifty people there, and it was peaceful.”
So, my first attempt at protesting was anything but dramatic. But most beginnings are pretty pathetic. Mine was, perhaps, more pathetic than is common. Maybe the important thing for me to remember is that it was a beginning. Now, I need to continue.
“Time and Past Time”
“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; ensure justice for those being crushed. Yes, speak up for the poor and helpless, and see that they get justice” (Proverbs 31:8-9 New Living Translation).
I have never been a particularly courageous person. I’m not now either. You’ve heard of people who are afraid of their own shadow? That would be me.
However, the time has come—indeed, it is past time—for me to show up and stand up. It is time and past time for me to stand with my brothers and sisters who are more colorful than I am. It is time to say that legally sanctioned murders are just murders. It is time to say that appreciating police includes holding them accountable for their use of force.
It is time (and past time) for me to go to Fort Thomas, Kentucky, at two o’clock today, and confess my own sins of racism.
It is time to move through and beyond my fears: my fears of covid-19 (though I will wear a mask), my fear that the blood clot in my leg will return with a vengeance, that a peaceful protest can always turn violent or be met with violence.
It is time and past time.
“God’s Tender Care”
7 For he is our God,
and we are the people of his pasture,
and the sheep of his hand.
Today, if you hear his voice,
8 do not harden your hearts, as at Meribah,
as on the day at Massah in the wilderness,
9 when your fathers put me to the test
and put me to the proof, though they had seen my work.
10 For forty years I loathed that generation
and said, “They are a people who go astray in their heart,
and they have not known my ways.”
11 Therefore I swore in my wrath,
“They shall not enter my rest.” (Psalm 95:7-11)
Years ago, my brother had a ranch. I asked him if he ever considered raising sheep. His reply was swift and direct. “No! I don’t want to be a babysitter.”
My brother often overstated things, but in this case he was probably spot on. Sheep require a lot of care and attention.
One of the most common metaphors in the Bible for God’s people is sheep. This is true in the Old Testament and in the New. My “3-Minute Retreat” from Loyola Publishing used vs. 7 of this psalm as the basis for today’s meditation. This retreat was titled, “God’s Well-tended Flock.”
Most of the time these days, I do indeed feel “well-tended” by the Almighty, who is also the All-Tender. In spite of the covid-19 plague, in spite of a fairly serious blood clot (which is much better now), in spite of everything, I can honestly say that God has been and remains so good to me. I have everything I need and then some!
But even in what are, for me, good times, I have a difficult time listening to God. Why? Verse 8 answers the question: hardness of heart. Hardening of the heart is a perennial danger for me. There is always the possibility of a gradual hardening, of course. But frankly, I can also harden my heart in a hurry when I have a mind to do so.
And when I do that, God’s tender tending tends to become a lot firmer. This is what the Bible refers to as “discipline.”
How to keep a tender heart toward God’s tending of us is the problem. But what is the solution?
I don’t know that I have one, but I do have a couple of suspicions. Suspicions are not solutions, but they can sometimes lead to solutions.
I’ve noticed that when I meditate on God’stenderness and God’s works, my own heart becomes a little more tender. If I spent more time marinating in God’s tenderness, I might become more tenderized myself. (Such marinating would likely improve my taste as well.)
Another way of keeping a tender heart toward God is by being grateful. I am continually looking for things for which to give thanks. And usually, what I look for, I eventually find.
If I am not feeling well-tended and spiritually fed, I probably need to examine myself. If I am not experiencing the goodness of God, it may be that something is messing with my spiritual metabolism. Probably, it is I who am messing with my own metabolism.
“My ‘Controlling’ Partner”
I used to run my own life. It was great fun to run it. It was so much fun that I tried to run other people’s lives as well. Yes, it was great fun!
At least, it was fun until I ran my life into the ground. And, of course, no one ever messes up their own lives without also messing up the lives of others. When there is damage, there is always collateral damage.
Finally, when there wasn’t much left of me, I turned to God. At first, I offered God a 49% share in my life. I figured this was quite generous. The operation was bankrupt admittedly, but . . .
However, God drove a hard bargain. Apparently, God wanted to be the controlling partner. After a bit more despair, I decided to offer God 51%. I had done such a lousy job of managing the chaos of me! What did I have to lose?
To my great shock, God rejected this offer as well.
And so, the negotiations continued. I kept offering more, and it was never enough. When I got to 80%, I saw the handwriting on the wall. It was only too clear: He wanted me to turn the whole enterprise of me over to Him, lock, stock, and Daryl. He would run the business day to day. I would be His employee.
To the surprise of no one, I balked. No, that’s not true. I didn’t balk. I kicked and screamed and banged my head against the floor like the four-year-old that I was.
Meanwhile, the offer was still open. By the time I decided to sign the contract, there was hardly enough of me left to hold the pen. But hold it I did, and I scribbled my signature. A feeling of resignation that was almost a feeling of relief swept over me. Almost relief. Not quite.
And then, before the ink had even dried, my new Controlling Partner spoke words that I did not want to hear. “Every day, you will need to sign this contract again. Sometimes, you will need to sign it several times during the day.”
There are days when I sign the document—sometimes grudgingly, sometimes eagerly. When I sign the document with my obedience and trust, I have a good day. When I throw in love as well, I have a really good day.
And when I don’t sign the document? You don’t want to know!
By the way, I think the same offer is open to you as well, dear reader. My Controlling Partner has very deep pockets, and an even deeper and very kind heart.
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