“Fairness and Praise”
“Who can utter the mighty deeds of the LORD,
or declare all his praise?
Blessed are they who observe justice,
who do righteousness at all times!” (Psalm 106:2-3, English Standard Version)
Fairness and praise: Does that sound like a strange couple to you? A bit like Billy Joel and Christie Brinkley (who are now uncoupled)?
It strikes me as more than a little bizarre as well. I’ve noticed that Christians and churches that are known for their emphasis upon justice, fairness, and social issues are not generally known for their praise. And I’ve noticed that Christians and churches that are known for their praise are not usually famous for their emphasis on social issues.
Yet this psalm combines the these two. No, the psalm does not simply combine them. It welds them together with an unbreakable bond.
The Hebrew word translated “justice” in verse 3 is mishpat. Many translations bring this word into the English/American languages with our word “justice.” However, I don’t like that word. That is because our word “justice” is often synonymous with “punishment.” While the Hebrew word mishpat does contain the idea of punishment at times, that is not the only nuance of the word. The word can (and often does) suggest that God is fair in God’s dealings with us. It also has to do with fairness in our dealings with one another.
So, if I am being fair all day, every day, am I praising God? Yes! And that is the kind of praise that God especially loves. If we commit ourselves to living a life of fairness, then we might not find this pairing of praise and fairness so strange. In fact, we might decide that it’s a pretty good marriage.
“Repentance and Conforming to the Gospel”
Today’s “3-Minute Retreat” from Loyola Press (which you can access at https://www.loyolapress.com/retreats/the-consequences-of-not-repenting-start-retreat) was based on Luke 13:5:
“But I tell you, if you do not repent, you will all perish as they did!”
The retreat master writes, “To perish, to be lost forever, is not a pleasant thought on which to dwell. It is better to repent, to be contrite, so that you can come to a place of starting anew. In the deepest part of ourselves we know there is no other way to change. To repent is much more than saying “I’m sorry.” It is the profound understanding that we must conform our lives to the Gospel, or be lost forever.”
To say “I’m sorry” is very difficult for me. It probably is for virtually everyone.
But to conform to the Gospel of Jesus Christ—that is on border between excruciatingly difficult and absolutely impossible. Anyone who thinks it is easy to follow Jesus has probably never read Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. Or, at least, they have not taken those documents seriously.
There is a good reason for the subtitle of this website: “Musings of a Deeply Flawed Christ-Follower.” Sometimes, the flaws seem so much more real than the part about following Christ.
One of my 12-step readings from Hazelden made a very similar point about actually living a transforming life. Here it is:
“Let no one be deluded that a knowledge of the path can substitute for putting one foot in front of the other.
—M. C. Richards
Recovering men know this path is not always easy. We usually talk about the benefits of recovery and the many promises of the program. Today, in our fellowship, we talk of the challenges we must face in order to recover. Honesty may be the greatest challenge. It is frightening to be honest with ourselves about things we have never really admitted or faced before.
Sometimes we have new and confusing feelings and think something must be wrong with us. But we may be just experiencing the logical outcome of our earlier commitment to be honest. No one recovers by thinking about it. We must actively take each Step and meet the challenges presented. We are not alone with our difficulties. We are part of a large movement of men committed to recovery, and this quiet moment is one way in which we are simply putting one foot in front of the other.
Today, I pray for the courage to remain faithful when the fears and pains of my transformation are overwhelming.” (From Touchstones: A Book of Daily Meditations for Men ©1986, 1991 by Hazelden Foundation.)
Yes!
Conforming myself to the Gospel, being transformed by putting one foot in front of the other in the direction of a sane, sober, loving life—these are not easy. But then, neither is staying the way I am. And no one has to do any of this alone or all at once. I have good companions who both encourage and hold me accountable. And I have the strength to take this one step in this one moment.
“Keeping a Friendlier Distance”
The rains are over for now, and it is still warm (72o in Cincinnati right now). My wife and I turned off the endless coronavirus reports, and went for a walk. However, this pandemic and the fear it engenders are not so easy to turn off.
There were other folks outside as well, but my wife and I kept our distance. No, not from one another, but from other people. If either my wife or I are infected (as we may well be), we are going to cling to one another, as Genesis 2:24 says we should. But we do try to protect ourselves from others, as well as protecting others from us.
However, we had some nice conversations with a few of our neighbors—from a respectful distance. I sensed that we suddenly needed one another more. Or perhaps we simply realized how much we have needed one another all along.
One couple who were out walking approached the intersection of the streets at the same time we did. They hesitated and we crossed the street. “We’re sorry,” the lady said. “We’re just trying to be careful.”
“We are too,” I replied.
“No offense meant,” said the lady.
“None taken,” said I.
We need other people. We also need our distance, right now and always. It used to be said that we need to allow everyone three feet of personal space. I suspect that this rule of thumb is now obsolete. Six feet is now the new normal.
Perhaps we need to think through how much we need people, as well as how much we need space. Perhaps space will help us to appreciate people more. Perhaps we are beginning to come to grips with the fact that a pandemic does not really care about who you are, or who you think you are. This virus appears to attack anyone it can. While the wealthy have more access to health care—as they always have—even they are not immune.
Genesis (the first book of the Old Testament/Hebrew Bible, not the musical group) indicates that the human race came from one man and one woman. (Profoundly interesting is the fact that the word “adam” can be a proper name [“Adam”], but it is also the common Hebrew word for humankind.) Even if you don’t believe that Genesis 2-3 is literally true, it suggests a huge Truth: We are all in this thing called life together. “America first,” “my race first,” “my family first,” “me first”—these slogans won’t cut it. We live together; we die together. If we need to keep our distance from others, it needs to be a friendly distance we keep.
“Expectational Blindness”
Do you ever experience “expectational blindness”? I’ll bet you do!
In case you don’t immediately know what “expectational blindness” is, let me give you a simple example that happened to me just the other day.
My wife has been having some back problems. She was lying in bed and was going to get up and get a strap that she uses to do leg stretches. Being the good husband that I think I am, I exclaimed, “I’ll get that for you!”
To make sure I didn’t get lost, my wife said, “It is in one of the two bottom drawers on the left side of the dresser.” I looked diligently, but without success. “It’s red,” she said, giving me another helpful clue. The lady knows me.
“Nope,” I said. I’ve learned to hedge my bets, so I added, “I’m not saying it’s not here; I’m just saying that I don’t see it.”
She got out of bed—painfully—hobbled to the dresser, and immediately pulled out the band from one of the drawers where I had diligently (??) searched.
“Didn’t you see this?” she asked.
“Of course, but I thought it was a scarf or something,” I replied, with enough humility to make even St. Francis proud.
“Well,” my wife continued, “why didn’t you pull it out to see what it was?”
I thought for a moment, and answered with obvious logic, “Because I didn’t think it was the strap you were looking for.” (Now that I write this down, I see that my logic was neither obvious nor logical.)
I was expecting some other kind of stretching band, apparently. And my narrow expectations had caused me to be blind to reality. Hence the term “expectational blindness.”
I would like to believe that my situational blindness is limited to red stretching bands, but I don’t think that would be a healthy belief that is based on reality. The truth is that I have practiced expectational blindness for many decades. I’ve gotten quite good at it.
And, of course, when you’re blind you tend to stumble around a lot. And you bump into other people. Being blind through no fault of your own is a serious matter. Being blind due to your own expectations is just plain stupid.
A twelve-step friend has often said, “An expectation is just another word for a premeditated resentment.” Yes!
Probably, most of us pride ourselves on being open-minded. However, I doubt that many of us are. We all have blinding expectations. Perhaps all expectations are blinding.
I wonder what would happen if I went through just one day without any expectations? Maybe I should try it and find out!
“God’s Protection in the Midst of Plague”
“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the LORD, “My refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”
For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler
and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with his pinions,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness is a shield and buckler.
You will not fear the terror of the night,
nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in darkness,
nor the destruction that wastes at noonday.
A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
You will only look with your eyes
and see the recompense of the wicked.
Because you have made the LORD your dwelling place—
the Most High, who is my refuge— no evil shall be allowed to befall you,
no plague come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways.
On their hands they will bear you up,
lest you strike your foot against a stone.
You will tread on the lion and the adder;
the young lion and the serpent you will trample underfoot.
“Because he holds fast to me in love, I will deliver him;
I will protect him, because he knows my name. When he calls to me, I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble;
I will rescue him and honor him.
With long life I will satisfy him
and show him my salvation.””
(Psalm 91:1–16 The Holy Bible, English Standard Version)
https://accordance.bible/link/read/ESVS#Psa._91:1
This is a comforting psalm at a time such as this, when a silent killer stalks our days and our nights, our waking and our dreams. And we can all stand some comfort right now. I am grateful for what federal, state, and local political leaders are doing—as well as many businesses and individuals. But a deeper comfort must come from a higher power than these, if we are not to be consumed by worry, fear, and anxiety.
I am especially fond of verses 9 and 10 of Psalm 91. “Because you have made the LORD your dwelling place—the Most High, who is my refuge—no evil shall be allowed to befall you,
no plague come near your tent.”
However, vss. 11 and 12 give me pause for thought. I can almost hear someone exclaim, “Why on earth would being protected by the angels so that you wouldn’t even get a stone bruise give you pause for thought!?!”
There is a reason: In the New Testament, the devil quoted these two verses when he was tempting Jesus in the wilderness. Yes, I’m afraid that the devil can quote Scripture! If you don’t believe me, have a look at Matthew 4:1-11 and Luke 4:1-13.
Basically, the devil was tempting Jesus to prove that he was God’s son, by doing something reckless. “Jump from the pinnacle of the temple, Jesus! That will impress people! And, after all, doesn’t the Scripture say that, if you make the Lord your refuge, God’s angels will protect you?”
Jesus rejected this use of Psalm 91:11-12, and refused to jump. So, we probably should not think of Psalm 91 as a blanket statement of God’s protection, no matter what. Recklessness is not faith. It is just recklessness.
This has practical implications for our current situation with the covid-19 virus (coronavirus). Some Christians are, I fear, using Scriptures such as Psalm 91 as a reason not to take seriously the warnings from federal, state, and local officials who are telling us what we should do (and, more importantly, what we should not do) right now. That strikes me as not being so much an expression of faith, as it is an example of foolishness.
If anyone had faith, it was Jesus of Nazareth. Yet he was not reckless. He knew God and the Bible very well indeed. Indeed, there are those of us—and I am one of them—who believe that Jesus was God in the flesh, the very one who inspired the Bible.
So, while I am not a fan of isolation and of washing the skin off my hands, and though I am generally skeptical of governments of all kinds, I think that, in this case, we ought not to assume that we will be safe no matter what we do, if only we believe. I don’t know how many people who have died due to the coronavirus so far were people of faith, but I suspect some were.
“Fear? Not!”
I think that it is safe to say that we are all at least a little fearful right now. Yes?
So, what do we do with our fear? Perhaps a better question is this: What do we refuse to let fear do with us?
I suspect that there are several things that fear wants to do to/with us.
One thing that fear wants to do to/with us is to make us panicky. Fear can be a good thing. It alerts us to danger, and helps us to take prudent measures that protect ourselves and those we love.
Panic, however, is not a positive thing at all. Panic always makes a bad situation worse. Always remember the eleventh commandment: Thou shalt not panic!
Another thing that fear wants us to do is to collapse on ourselves, to become completely self-absorbed. Many of us (especially those who write blogs) are already self-absorbed enough.
So, what can and should we do with our fear?
First, we can feel afraid. Feelings of all kinds are made to be felt. Don’t deny your fears. If you’re not afraid right now, you’re not paying sufficient attention.
Say your prayers. You don’t believe in God? Well, say your prayers anyway, even if you have to start them out with “To whom it may or may not concern.” When I pray, I feel calmer. In fact, one of my most consistent prayers right now is a calm-my-spirit prayer that I learned years ago, when a church I pastored was going through a 50-Day Spiritual Adventure. Here is the prayer: Calm my spirit, Lord. That’s it. That’s the whole prayer.
Second, do the things that normally work for you, even if you don’t think that you can, even if you don’t think that doing those things will work. I am continued to do 12-step readings, to make gratitude lists, to do (at least sporadic) blog posts.
And, since panicky fear wants you to be self-absorbed, do something that you really don’t want to do for someone else. Check on other people. Call. Email. Text. Yes, by all means, wear a mask and gloves. But minister to the needs of others. The coronavirus is a serious threat, but cowardly selfishness will damage us even more.
Fear?
Not!
“Living Courageously in a Time of Pandemic”
There are two ways that the coronavirus kills: by physically destroying humans, and by fear. The second method may well be the most effective.
My wife is visiting her mom in a nursing home. Nursing homes are a wonderful breeding ground for the coronavirus. I am worried and afraid.
I journaled, and then read what I had written. And I communicated these fears to my sponsors in my morning report. One of them got back to me with a phone call that helped me to get the fear under God’s control. And I texted a friend and asked him to pray for me, for my wife, and for all concerned. I ended my text as follows:
“Thanks for reading this. I feel better now, having gotten some confused and confusing feelings out in the open. I think I’m already feeling less confused and fearful. And you haven’t even prayed yet!”
“Today’s Affirmation: Today, by God’s grace, I will live a courageous life. I will not fear perhapses.”
Courage is not the same thing as a careless attitude or actions. Prudent precautions aren’t cowardice. It takes some courage, even to be cautious.
However, fear is no one’s friend. And courage is a good friend these days, and every day. We should prepare for possibilities and probabilities, but we can and should live without perhapses.
“Being Sunshine”
“You are the light of the world.” (Jesus)
“Today, by God’s grace, I will be sunshine wherever I go.” (Me)
I suspect that I had sensory affective disorder before that condition even had a name. My wife figured it out. She noticed that I was especially and most deeply depressed during January and February, and when the weather was chronically grey. Sensory affective disorder (SAD) is no laughing matter. The pun is for free. (A friend of mine who is also a psychologist pointed out to me over breakfast this morning that it is actually Seasonal Affective Disorder. He put a positive spin on my misstep by saying that it helped him see the disorder from a new angle. Man, what a knack he has for correcting me and making me feel good about my mistakes at the same time! That is an art form!)
However, I am not so affected by the weather these days. Oh, don’t get me wrong: I like a warm day that’s filled with sunshine as much as the next man, woman, child, or cat. However, I am discovering that if you are the sunshine, you don’t necessarily have to have the sunshine. Let me explain.
I made the mistake of looking at the weather report the day before yesterday. I was trying to decide when to work up my garden and plant my cool-weather seeds. The report showed that Monday was supposed to be warm and dry (it was), but that after that, there was an excellent chance for rain. (It is Tuesday morning, and there is more than a chance of rain; it is raining right now.)
I was briefly a little down about facing the prospect of a bunch of grey, rainy days. But then, I caught myself, and said to myself, “Wait a minute! The sun will still be there, whether or not I can see it. There will be daylight, even if there isn’t a lot of sunlight.”
And then, I had another thought, and this thought now has me: I don’t primarily need to see the sunlight. I need to be the sunlight.
Jesus said to his original disciples, “You are the light of the world.” He says the same to you and me.
Take that, sensory affective disorder!
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