Tuesday, August 18, 2020                 (today’s lectionary)
Joy comes in the morning
God is no longer beating up on his rebellious children. Now he has become sarcastic with their enemy, the Prince of Tyre.
You say, “A god am I!”
Yet you are a man and not a god.
And with your wisdom you have made riches for yourself.
Because of this your heart has gone haughty on you.
No longer can the Prince of Tyre return to his childhood and know the innocence and wonder of something made by God, rather than himself. He spends his time sorting his stuff, in his counting house, in his closet, in the dark, remembering his glory.
I begin to see a resemblance.
Because of this, o mighty prince,
Foreigners will draw their swords against the bounty of your wisdom
And run those swords through your splendid suits of clothes.
They shall thrust you down into the pit to die a bloodied corpse.
What will you say then?
What will I?
You are man, not a god, and you will die.
The Lord thy God hath spoken.
Yes. I take credit for the victories in my life. I forget all his benefits. I count my blessings, and hold them to my chest. I regularly remember too late that pride goeth before the fall. And, oh! I just noticed those are lions up there with their mouths open, ready to eat my head. My closet might be full of books and other treasures, but I’m out here exposed. Where will I run to? Who you gonna call?
Surely the Lord shall do justice for his people.
On his servants he shall have pity.
And as I said yesterday, I do spend less time whining about my failure-to-give these days. I feel far more free, buoyed by Jeremiah’s lament and God’s encouragement, which is at the center of a book I read as a kid by Betty Smith.
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed!
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
His mercies never come to an end.
They are new every morning,
Great is thy faithfulness.
Since I’m prone to introspective depression and discouragement, I’m also prone to joy every morning. Call it bipolar, I guess, but for me it’s the heart and soul of my creative life. God made us co-creators, and this seems to be His way in me. His say in me. My emotions often overwhelm me, and I am rescued by his Spirit.
A year ago I received simple instructions about how to better live my life. Make a Rule, an “organization” to live each day. Make it short enough to fit on a post-it note.
READ, WRITE, LISTEN, PRAY. EVERY DAY.
This became not just a “Rule of Life,” but also a breath-prayer.
Starting with the Rule, the Organization, I better understand God’s promise and live under His umbrella. For example:
I have really screwed up today. Procrastinated, made poor decisions, chosen immediate gratification, felt entitled, said no to others by omission and commission, forgotten to breathe, lusted after girls and security and knowledge and my own beauty. Ha! I have sinned and fallen short, and now as I settle into examining my day I wonder if I can even sleep tonight.
One of our spiritual direction teachers, Albert Haase, insisted to us, “Do not end your Examen until you have been forgiven!” I guess I want to go to sleep, because God’s forgiveness almost always comes like a waterfall. As John Wimber told us years ago. “Just step under the water!”
This could be a mental trick I play on myself, I guess. But God’s promise changes that, because it’s not just me that feels the freedom of a new day, it’s God. That’s what matters. God does not remember how I’ve procrastinated or felt entitled or lusted after my own glory. He just doesn’t. That’s a promise. That’s his promise.
In fact he doesn’t even remember if I read, write, listen or pray. But I notice when my organization is simple like that, I CAN do it. There is obedience and gratefulness more than glory in those few words.
When I feel like I have to get things right on my own, O my God! Despair and pride, pretense and shame come close behind. Denial is not just a river in Egypt.
It’s easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, Jesus said.
But God does not leave us trapped in a crevice we can’t escape. His promise, remember?
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases.
His mercies never come to an end.
Jesus looked straight into the eyes of his disciples, one by one. He looks straight into mine. He looks straight into yours.
For men and women this is impossible. (And you, my friend are one of those.)
But for God all things are possible.
New every morning.
(Ezekiel 28, Deuteronomy 32, 2 Corinthians 8, Matthew 19)
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