In our culture, we take everything to extremes. Is no one else bothered by how the term binge has become socially acceptable? It means “a period of excessive indulgence.” Sure, I’ve done it, but no way that’s healthy! Binge eating, binge drinking (alcohol, soda, coffee), binge watching a TV series…none of these help you become a better person—especially a better Christ-follower.
In our self-gratification-centered culture, having enough no longer satisfies. Take Starbucks for example. They used to offer a “short” size. While “tall and skinny” are my preferred adjectives for far more than my lattes, what induced them to offer medium, large, and extra-large as standard sizes?
Our sin nature nurtures
an insatiable appetite.
It’s because we always want more. Part of it, I believe, is entitlement—the idea that we deserve more than we’re getting. Part of it, however, stems from that insatiable appetite our sin nature nurtures in us. Like Eve in the garden of Eden, it’s not enough to enjoy what God provides. We also want what He prohibits; we want it all…whether all is good for us or not.
The counter-balance is sufficiency. Our God, the All-Sufficient One, provides what we need for today.
And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus. –Philippians 4:19
Not “everything you ever wanted,” not “so much that you are satiated,” but all you need. The challenge for us is to be satisfied with His sufficiency.
There’s an interesting balance here because God does have everything. He is eternally excessive, and He invites us to enjoy His provision, even His over-abundance. So how does this work?
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. –Psalm 23:5
God prepares the table. He provides the heaping trays of food and the limitless jugs of wine. (Remember Jesus’ first miracle? God doesn’t lack in supply.)
But He also provides the cups.
Both the wine in my cup and
the overflow belong to Him.
The cup which He has given me has a certain size, proportionate to my hand and my needs. He pours it full. In fact, He has enough to overflow it, and sometimes He does. That wine runs over my hand, down the sides of the cup, and onto the table. It puddles there. Should He have been more careful? Should He have given me a bigger cup? No. Both the wine in my cup and the overflow belong to Him, and He has done exactly as He wants, for His glory.
We, on the other hand, want it all: the wine in the cup, the wine puddling on the table, even the wine still in the jug. It’s true: the supply is inexhaustible. It won’t “put God out” to give me more. As a result, I’m offended by His seeming wastefulness. What do I do?
I must trust. Ah, here’s the key… I must trust that how much He’s given me is how much I need. Just like you would never give a child $1000 to buy a pack of gum, He doesn’t give us this excess because He knows we won’t use it properly. Oh God, help me relax into this dichotomy: your excess and my enough.
When the Hebrew people gathered manna, they collected just enough for that day: an omer each. If they tried to gather more, it spoiled. Every day, God sent more than they needed, so they left some to melt in the sun (Exodus 16:14-21). Something tells me they didn’t plan on seconds, and yet they were satisfied. If it were me, I would be out there gathering every morsel, stuffing it into my omer-sized container, then gorging on it until I felt sick.
There’s much more to explore but you’ve probably had enough. Let’s finish with a couple of verses on God’s sufficiency for grace and courage. Think on these.
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. –2 Corinthians 12:9
I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. –Philippians 1:20
I find myself grasping, desiring, even trying to grab more, more, more! I am dissatisfied with His sufficiency. I forget that it’s all His anyway. I forget that God will give me what I need…and some of the things I want, when those things are good for me. What He holds back in His supply, what He pours out in front of me…all that is His to do with as He pleases, and He pleases to increase His glory.
Our penchant for excess or extreme pops up in every aspect of life. How do you combat this selfishness? How do you reconcile His abundance with His supply? I’d love to hear from you in the comments below!
James opened the door to Grandma’s house while Mom unbuckled his baby sister. He didn’t have to knock at Grandma’s. She always said he should just “come right in,” like he lived there. He took a deep breath as his foot crossed the threshold. The air was still thick with old books, old furniture, and antiseptic spray—as usual. On his second sniff, fresh rhubarb pie clouded the mix. James’ shoulders fell. He was hoping for chocolate or apple.
“Why are you standing in the door, Jamie? Keep moving!” Mom usually left her exasperated voice in the car, but not today. One more sniff told him why, and one glance at his sister’s backside confirmed it. Grandma’s exclamation hid his gagging cough.
“James!” Only Grandma understood he wanted to be called James, like his grandfather, not Jamie or Jack or James-er-ooo. Her nose wrinkled briefly. when she got close “Umm, I just pulled a pie out of the oven, James. Can you help me in the kitchen?” He was saved from diaper-changing!
Grandma handed James the knife as he entered the kitchen. “Want to cut your own piece?” Mom would never let him handle a knife like that.
His lips began to form the word “no” as Grandma stepped away from the stove. A fresh apple pie stood beside the still-steaming rhubarb pie. “Made that one this morning. It’s already cool enough to eat. You hungry or not?”
Grandma chose apple pie, too. She sat a lukewarm cup of grey coffee beside her plate and an ice-cold glass of milk beside James’. The milk sloshed out a little.
James lost himself in his pie. It was half gone before Grandma finished her first bite. She was eating more slowly than usual and staring out the window while she chewed. James put down his fork.
The clink of fork on plate woke
Grandma from her reverie.
The clink of fork on plate woke Grandma from her reverie. She took a long swig of coffee. James was patient. Grandma told the best stories when you didn’t push her, when you let the story flow out on its own. He’d learned that fact last summer. She had always told stories filled with “The Lord did this” and “God blessed us with that,” but last summer, those stories finally began to interest James. Now they were his favorite part of a visit to Grandma’s.
She swallowed hard, hesitated as though to take another drink, and returned the cup to the table. “The apples in your pie came from that tree over yonder.” She pointed out the window and across the back yard. “You know that tree?” Of course he knew that tree! It was his favorite climbing tree, but he just nodded. Better not to distract Grandma when she was gearing up for a story. He’d learned that last summer, too.
We planted that tree the year your Uncle John went to Vietnam. He loved apples, and I was so tore up when he got drafted. Your Grandpa thought tending to a new tree might help me cope.” She tried to smile, but the tears trembling on her lower eyelid got in the way. She took a bite of pie, so James did the same.
“He wasn’t the only son to leave that spring. The pastor said all us parents should be strong as oaks, faithfully pray for our sons, and continue to help those in need. I didn’t feel like an oak. I felt more like that little sapling, bending with every slight breeze. The theme music for the nightly news made my hands shake, and I couldn’t face the mailman. Your mama was only four years old, but I made her fetch the mail every day.
“I didn’t pray so much for John’s
safety as for his witness.”
“I wasn’t strong, like the pastor said, but I did pray. Funny thing, though, I didn’t pray so much for John’s safety as for his witness. I prayed God would help him be a Light for the other soldiers. I prayed God would make him respectful and brave. I told you how he won that purple heart, didn’t I?”
“Yes, Grandma.” James wanted to ask for that exciting story again, but Grandma was bent in another direction today. He took a big gulp of milk. A little dribbled down his chin, and he wiped it on his sleeve. Grandma didn’t notice.
“The next Spring, a year after John left, that tree got seven blossoms on it. By Autumn, those blossoms had turned into apples. You know how many apples it takes to make a pie?”
James shook his head, his mouth full of pie.
Grandma smiled. “It takes seven. I knew from the moment I saw those blossoms that those apples weren’t for me. When they got ripe, I picked ’em, made a pie, and took it over to the Marshburns. Their son was missing-in-action. We talked for two hours, mostly about our boys, of course, but God kept reminding me of Scripture to encourage them. We ended up praying together, and it was one of the sweetest times of…communion, I guess you’d call it, I’ve ever known.
“The next fall, there were fourteen apples. I made two pies, and I took them to two different families. The same thing happened. We encouraged each other, we prayed together, and we were all blessed.
“I’ve made apple pies from that tree every single year since then—through a terrible drought, through late freezes that I thought killed the blossoms, and even through a tornado one year. I didn’t keep even one of those pies for myself. I always shared them, and God always blessed through them.”
“But Grandma,” James interrupted, “You didn’t share this one. You kept it right here in your house!”
James felt like Grandma
was sizing him up.
“I shared it with you, didn’t I? And we talked about the things of God, didn’t we?” Grandma stood up, her eyes never leaving James. He felt like she was sizing him up. Then she walked into the kitchen, cut a big piece of pie and put it in an old plastic butter tub.
She sat the plastic tub by his elbow and nodded toward his forgotten plate. “You gonna finish that piece of pie?” James stuffed the last two bites into his mouth and drained his milk. “If you’re thinking we didn’t share this pie properly, take this piece across the street to Mrs. Key. But remember, this pie comes with a side of encouragement and prayer.”
James grabbed the tub, hugged his Grandma again, and turned toward the door.
“Um, James?” Grandma interrupted his march. “You might want to wipe off that milk mustache first.”
We will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord, his power, and the wonders he has done. –Psalm 78:4
It’s important for us, as parents and grandparents (literally or figuratively) to tell how God has been real in our lives. Maybe it’s not a miraculous apple tree, but “He has done great things!” Remember that old hymn, I Love to Tell the Story? What one thing do you want the next generation to know? Do you have a parent or grandparent who told you these kinds of stories? How did it affect your faith? Please share in the comments.
A couple of separate observations from my daily time in Psalms…
The Last Meal of a Condemned Man
People who don’t care about God seem to have an easy life. They don’t get up early on Sunday mornings (unless it’s to play golf). They take shortcuts to prosperity and seem unfazed by it. They focus on themselves and what they can see. Pride is so much easier than humility.
I get it. I think that way sometimes, too. So did David.
For I envied the arrogant when I saw the prosperity of the wicked. They have no struggles; their bodies are healthy and strong. They are free from common human burdens; they are not plagued by human ills. -Psalm 73:3-5
Perhaps it’s God’s kindness that allows the “wicked” (I hesitate to use that term. It’s so not p.c.) to have such easy lives here on earth. Perhaps God gives them a few years of ease because he knows their eternity will be beyond miserable, like the last meal of a condemned man.
I’ll take today’s burdens
over tomorrow’s brimstone.
We who follow Jesus, on the other hand, struggle and suffer now (not all the time). Sometimes life feels like an endless series of burdens, but we face an eternity of ease. So let’s cut the others some slack. Let’s stop being jealous. Even though it seems unfair in the moment, I’ll take today’s burdens over tomorrow’s brimstone.
Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. -Hebrews 12:1b-2a
It’s one thing to see roadkill alongside the road when you’re driving. It’s quite another to see it when you’re on foot. There’s a nice four-lane near my home with sidewalk on both sides. It’s a great place to run. Except for the multiple incidents of roadkill. I once saw seven dead animals in a 1.5 mile span!
It’s distracting. I’ve finally trained myself not to look but I can’t escape the smell, and holding your breath while running isn’t a strong option.
In Psalm 59 (and many other psalms in this section), David is distracted by his enemies, accusers, and attackers. His situation distracts him so much that he can’t pray. He can’t run with perseverance the race marked out for him. You know what that’s like, don’t you? When difficulties arise in our lives—especially the social/relationship kind—it distracts us just like that roadkill distracts me when I’m running.
Our eyes drift to the side, to the ditches, where humanity reveals her pale, bloated underbelly. But we can discipline ourselves not to dwell there. God draws our gaze back to Himself. Then our breath evens out and our shoulders soften.
The key is to intentionally pull our focus back, to close that line of thoughts for awhile and focus entirely on our Savior. It takes practice, but it can be done.
It’s Spring break at our house this week. I’ve been hanging out with my kids, and I didn’t pull away to compose a full blog post. I pray these random devotional thoughts from my last few weeks in Psalms encourage you. Let me know what you think in the comments.
PS – Aren’t you glad I didn’t include a picture of roadkill?
A lifestyle of worship has been on my mind for awhile. It arises partly out of my study in Psalms and partly out of…well, a bunch of stuff. Anyway, I am glad to share some thoughts on worship this week with my blogging friend, Vanessa. Read the first bit here or click straight over to her blog and start from the beginning there.
As much as I am tempted to sleep in on Sunday mornings, I love worship time with my church. You see, we lived in a place without churches or church services for more than six years. Our corporate worship time involved gathering in the living room with some praise choruses pulled up on a computer screen. I think God was honored in those moments, but it was nothing like adding your voice to a few dozen (or a few hundred) other believers, singing out in praise and accompanied by talented musicians. Corporate worship and preaching fuel me for the week ahead.
But Sunday mornings are not the only time I worship.
I have learned that worship shouldn’t be a noun. It’s not a person, place, or thing; it’s an action. Sometimes it’s an active verb, like on Sunday mornings when we worship together. And sometimes it’s more like a state-of-being verb, a mindset that pervades everything else.
Dig into God’s call to worship–including some gleanings from Romans–at Vanessa’s blog. Otherwise, what do you think of as worship and when does it occur? Share your thoughts there or in the comments below.
Most of you don’t know this, but I love math—especially geometry. I love the organization of it, the logic, the confidence in repeatable results. I think math is beautiful. I haven’t persuaded my eleven-year-old of this perspective yet, but I’m working on him.
In math, order usually matters. 5 -3 ≠ 3 – 5. There’s an order in which to write the equation and there’s an order to the procedures used in solving it.
Boring!! Okay, I’ve already lost some of you. Here’s the point:
In the Christ-life, order also matters. But we don’t like the specified order. Just like a couple of Algebra I kids who think they can get creative with solving quadratic equations, we think we know better, easier ways to live out our lives.
In this psalm, David begins by asking God who can get close to Him. He says it much more poetically: Lord, who may dwell in your sacred tent? Who may live on your holy mountain? (Psalm 15:1). This is a recurring theme with David. He asks essentially the same question in Psalm 24:3. This time, David must have been thinking about Moses, whose face glowed after time spent with God in the tent of meeting or on Mount Sinai (Exodus 34:29-35).
Then David answers himself, running down a list of honorable actions (Psalm 15:2-5). It’s not the Ten Commandments but more a list of things to which a basically good person should pay attention. Here’s what’s interesting (well, one of the things): None of these things are about proscribed rituals. They are all about relationships!
Not Ritual but Righteousness
Rituals do not
Here’s David, who once sacrificed a bull and a calf every six steps when they were moving the ark to Jerusalem (2 Samuel 6:13). This guy knew how to “do” sacrifices! Yet when he considered what it takes to be close to God, it wasn’t about rituals. It was about relationships—specifically, relationships with other people. Long before Amos chastised the “cows” who paraded into religious ceremonies even while thinking up new ways to cheat each other (e.g. Amos 4:4-5), David knew our actions toward each other revealed far more about the condition of our hearts than any number of religious rituals. Wouldn’t Jesus say the same thing to the Pharisees, who tithed their herbs and spices while turning a blind eye to justice and mercy (Matthew 23:23)?
Not Regulation but Relationship
We need to be careful here, though. It would be easy to take this list of actions, hang it on the wall, and think we could be close to God by, for example, never slandering, never doing wrong to a neighbor, and never casting slurs (all from verse 3), along with the rest of the list.
What’s wrong with that? Well…
- It’s straight-up legalism.
- It’s impossible to do for a day, much less a lifetime, and even trying would we exceedingly stressful!
- It misses the whole point.
The actions listed here by David and lived out in relationships, all reflect a certain condition of the heart. They demonstrate kindness, peace, patience, self-control, etc. Wait. That sounds a lot like the Fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23), doesn’t it? Ah ha! The heart condition must come before the demonstrations.
When my relationship with God is good and right, my relationships with others reveal it. This is the definition of righteousness.
Obviously, we no longer offer animal sacrifices. And thank goodness! Think how hard it would be to clean the church every Sunday if we had animals and blood all over the place. But we do try to regulate our Christianity.
We want to make righteousness (remember, that just means a right relationship with God) about what we do and don’t do: church attendance, tithing, not watching R-rated movies, schooling choices for our children, boycotting company X, etc.
We want to make
righteousness about what
we do and don’t do.
Let’s stop for a second here. Why is this? Why do we lean toward the regulations? I think it’s because they are easier and less messy that David’s list in Psalm 15. Honestly, I’d rather skip R-rated movies than try to always speak the truth from my heart (15:2). Such truth-telling might offend someone or it might compel me to do something inconvenient or difficult. A personal, intimate rightness with God (that definition of real righteousness again) will require me to confront my own moral failings, and well, that’s just more than I can handle. Know what I mean?
God has always said it’s our relationships with others that reveal our rightness with Him.
Does the Lord delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much as in obeying the Lord? To obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed is better than the fat of rams. -1 Samuel 15:22
He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. -Micah 6:8
And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward. -Matthew 10:42
Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world. -James 1:27
As you can see, in all three sections of the Old Testament (histories, wisdom literature, and prophets) and in both parts of the New Testament (gospels and letters), it’s our actions in relationships that confirm our connection with God. Never our rituals or regulations. And here’s the good news: We have the Holy Spirit, with His Fruit to both confirm our relationship with God the Father and empower us to live according to His standards. So I don’t worry about the list. I just focus on keeping my relationship with God in good condition.
Later in James,
You see that a person is considered righteous by what they do and not by faith alone. -James 2:24
Perhaps this verse is the best to set alongside Psalm 15. The actions David describes are the tangible result of a righteous life, not the prescription for it. This is where the Christ-Life is like math. Order is important. The right relationship with God yields healthy, God-centered relationships with other people, never the other way around.
right relationship with God ⇒ right actions toward others
When your righteousness is revealed through your relationships, you will never be shaken (Psalm 15:5b). Just like my geometry proofs.
Whew! I hope this made some sense. I feel like I just blurted a bunch of stuff onto the page. Let me know what struck you as significant and/or where I missed it. I always appreciate your comments.
I’ve been in church my entire life—since before my 0th birthday, which means even in the womb, I heard Scripture, singing, and prayers. As of this week, that means I’ve been going to church for more than 44 years. (Yes, it’s my birthday week. Woohoo!) As pre-teens/teenagers, my sister and I read the Bible through annually for several years in a row. As an adult, I’ve spent time in the Word almost every day for the last twelve years (at least). I’ve done dozens of Bible studies and heard innumerable sermons.
So there are certain parts of the Bible that are as familiar to me as the back of my hand. My memorization may be a bit messed up from switching translations over the years, but I know these passages. When I contemplated spending this year in Psalms, I knew such familiarity would confront me in certain well-known chapters. Why do I say “confront”? Because that extreme familiarity makes it difficult to see/hear anything fresh from the words on the page.
The Holy Spirit stirs our
ever-changing experiences in
with His never-changing Word.
I believe, however, God always has something fresh to say through the Scriptures as the Holy Spirit stirs our ever-changing experiences in with His never-changing Word. That’s why people say, “It’s like I never read that verse before!” He applies His Word to our life in new ways because we are always in a new place. In other words, it’s our experiences that change the relevance of Scripture, not the Scripture itself that changes. Isn’t it remarkable how the Bible can do that?
So there I sat for my quiet time on January 23rd, looking at Psalm 23. What can I do? How can I read it? What could I possibly add to the books and sermons I’ve read/heard from these six verses?
At the Spirit’s prompting, I began to re-write each verse in my own words, based on my own life right now. I didn’t even realize I was doing it at first. The result was something very personal and very fresh, a reflection of what I know about Jesus, the Shepherd-King.
As I share my…paraphrase (using the word very loosely), I encourage you to try this next time you come upon an all-too-familiar Bible passage. And just so you know, I had to go in afterward and look up the references to other verses; I don’t just have those things in my head.
according to Carole, near her 44th birthday
Because God is in charge of my life, nothing I need is missing.
He shows me good times to rest and good places to be nourished,
both of which restore me at the soul level. He leads the way along the life progression that’s right for me so I and those around me cannot help but praise Him.
When I feel like things couldn’t get any worse, like I’m about to die, and like I’m all alone, I don’t have to be afraid. Even at those times, He is near though I can’t see His light. His correction actually comforts me because it shows that He loves me (Proverbs 3:11-12/Hebrews 12:5-6).
He spoils me right in front of people who hate me. He blesses me, calls me out, and sets me apart for His purposes (Ephesians 2:10). He is wastefully, extravagantly generous toward me.
I am confident of His never-ending love for the rest of my life and of my spot in Heaven thereafter.
Have you ever tried rewriting Scripture like this? It’s not inspired or anything, but it can be a special moment. Let me know what you think in the comments below.