Category: Bible (Page 337 of 419)

David wrote Psalm 69 in distress—Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck, I sink in the miry depths where there is no foothold.

Honestly, whenever I read this psalm about undeserved suffering my first thought goes to the lyrics from Never Been Any Reason, by the classic rock band Head East. Their line save my life I’m going down for the last time resonates, but I believe they’re singing about a girlfriend, not enemies at the gate. But I digress.

David writes from a place of pain and confusion. He asks God to rescue him. He pleads his devotion. David prays for vengeance on his enemies. I’m astounded by his bald honesty—Pour your wrath on them; let your fierce anger overtake them. He holds nothing back, and we’re privileged to read these unfiltered thoughts.

Then David does something powerful. In the midst of his frustration and angst, David turns toward the Lord, not away. That’s always the choice in these situations. How will we react? As I read the stories of the kings of Israel and Judah, I see both decisions in distress—some turn to the Lord and others away.

In hard, challenging, maddening times, I face the same choice as David. Do I turn toward the Lord, or away?

I doubt if David felt like turning to the Lord, I think he did so by conscience choice, by an act of faith. That’s impressive, and hard to do, especially in the terrible situations life bring us.

Perhaps that’s what made David a man after God’s own heart.

Psalm 69 in week thirty-seven of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo by nikko macaspac

A company of German soldiers rolled into World War 1 by occupying a small village in Luxembourg, a vital center for lines of communication between Germany and Belgium. While only a tiny first step in an enormous tragedy (20 million people died in WWI, and set the stage for WW2 where another 75 million died), the act underscored the madness to come.

The name of the village? Trois Vierges, or the Three Virgins, representing faith, hope, and charity—the first casualty of the war to end all wars.*

Paul wrote to the Corinthian church, and down the ages to us, about faith, hope and charity (or love). If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or clanging symbol…if I do not have love, I am nothing.

Paul’s words remain ageless. I might do so many wonderful things, write fascinating phrases or give all I hold away, but we all know that without love it clangs on the ground.

I find it especially moving that Paul wrote this passage to a church. The first place we practice the most excellent way is among our fellow believers. If we can do it there, then folks will notice.

I read these words, I hear them at weddings, I see them painted on walls, but I still struggle to grasp the depth of Paul’s teaching. I suppose that’s what Paul means when he says we see in a mirror dimly.

Unlike German invaders, I don’t trample over faith, hope and love, but I do tend to drive around them on my way to other places.

I Corinthians 13 in week thirty-seven of reading the Bible cover to cover

*The Guns of August by Barbara W. Tuchman (p. 98)

I’m drawn to the back few rows of church. It’s quieter back here, out of the way. In many of our modern churches, built in more of a theater style, the back rows are dark. I feel hidden, in my cocoon, as I watch the service. With my coffee, and no one to engage with, it’s really quite comfortable.

Unfortunately for me, Paul brings a different perspective on living the faith. Using the metaphor of the human body, Paul explains how each one of us forms a vital part of the whole—there are many parts, but one body.

Just as a finger cannot function without the rest of the body (FYI, I saw a severed finger once—it lay there, useless), we as followers of Jesus need other believers around us, just as they need me and you. Paul again: God has put the body together…its parts should have equal concern for each other…Now you are the body of Christ, and each of one of you is a part of it.

Christianity is a participatory religion. It’s not a “consume a service like a TV program” religion. I must engage, I must exercise the gifts given by the Holy Spirit to build those around me, just as I benefit from the gifts of others. I must step forward toward people, not shirk my role. In short, I cannot act as a severed member.

Bummer for my preferred worship style. While I still sit in the back, I greet my fellow back row denizens. And when I leave the sanctuary for the bright light of day, I enter the greater body of believers. I need the push from Paul, because it’s really comfortable to stay in the shadows.

1 Corinthians 12 in week thirty-six of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo by Karen Zhao

I listened closely as one of my favorite writers shared his life verse. Slightly embarrassed, he smiled as he explained to us that while he studied the Bible carefully and took seriously the injunction to rightly divide the Word of Truth (2 Timothy 2:15), he actually took his verse out of context!

I thought of him this morning when I read the verse he referenced, I will make you a threshing sledge, new and sharp, with many teeth. You will thresh the mountains and crush them, and reduce the hills to chaff (Isaiah 41:15).

The passage refers to the Lord’s redemption of Israel. But these same words motivated a humble man to communicate in powerful and effective ways. This leader devoted his life to destroying the arguments of the enemy of our souls, and pointing people to the Lord.

Maybe a little out of context, but certainly in the spirit of the text. A couple lines earlier Isaiah wrote, I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.

The Lord waits to take our hand, to calm our fears, and to help in our times of need. But don’t forget that beyond all that, the Lord stands ready to create threshing sledges out of his humble followers.

Pretty good life verse, even out of context.

Isaiah 41 in week thirty-six of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo by Robert Wiedemann