Watching and Waiting

“In the morning, O Lord, You will hear my voice; in the morning I will order my prayer to You and eagerly watch” (Ps 5:3).

Most of us pray. Perhaps not as often as we would like or as eloquently as we would like. But still we pray. We petition God. We ask Him to move. We ask Him to intervene. We long for Him to act on our behalf. So we pray for anything from wisdom in relationships to obtaining a job to healing from cancer. We may pray in the morning, we may pray in the evening, in our bed or in our car, sitting down or on our knees. Whenever, however, we send forth our voice into the heavenly realm.

And many of us leave it at that. We say our prayers and then go on with our day or go to sleep. We tend to think of prayer as only the voicing of our requests. But in Psalm 5 David includes another part in his petitioning— watching.

He says his morning prayers, and then throughout the rest of the day David looks for God’s response. More than mere lip-service, as if he half-heartedly believes something will result from his prayer, he comes to God because he believes God will help. He is fully convinced God cares about his situation and more so, that God will do something about it. In an act of faith, he watches, eagerly anticipating His response.

Sometimes I wrestle with watching. There are circumstances in my life in which I plead with God for His active involvement. Most days He seems silent. I see no movement. I receive no response. There are moments (that sometimes turn into days) in which I struggle to believe He will come to my aid.

But the words and actions of David keep me lifting my eyes upward. God may not always give us what we want or respond the way we want. For many reasons, perhaps unknown to us, God may not answer our request as we desire. But sometimes He will. However He moves we can rest in the truth that He is always with us and in every situation, painful or joyful, working for our good and His glory (Rom 8:28). At minimum then we can watch how he labors for these in the midst of our longings.

So what about you? When you pray, do you think He hears you? Are you convinced He cares? Do you think He is able to and will work in the situation?

David concludes his prayer, "For it is You who blesses the righteous man, O LORD, You surround him with favor as with a shield" (v.12). Let his words of faith encourage us to keep watch, believing and hoping in God’s loyal love. And may the Spirit grant us discernment to note the gentle, sometimes subtle, hand of God weaving through the moments of our day.

A Refuge For Our Hearts

“Trust in Him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us (Ps 62:8).”

I find it difficult to trust God. I find faith challenging. I wonder at David’s charge to trust God at all times. Trust God in the midst of the divorce. Trust God in the midst of financial ruin. Trust God in the midst of the job loss. Trust God in the midst of natural disaster. Trust God in the midst of physical, emotional or sexual abuse. How is that possible?

David, who exhorts us, did not lead an enchanted life. He knew well suffering, fear, grief, angst, trauma. For years David lived and served King Saul who repeatedly abused him with his words and actions. Saul not only threatened David’s life but attempted to murder him, to destroy him. David eventually fled for his life and lived on the run for many years. He hid in caves. He feared for his life. And yet in the midst of all this he had the courage to believe. He hoped for deliverance. He trusted God. He rested in His salvation and loyal love.

I wonder how. But his faith didn't mean he never struggled to understand God in the midst of the strife. His psalms of lament capture his frustration, dread and concern. Maybe that is where I err. Maybe I confuse my questions for a lack of faith. Perhaps then what separates those with faith and those with unbelief is not confusion, struggles or doubts but rather where we take these frustrations and sorrows. David exhorts us to pour our hearts—with all their anger, sorrow, fear—before God. To himself he writes, “My soul, wait in silence for God only, for my hope is from Him” (Ps 62:5). For God only. When he felt overwhelmed he ran to God. How often I tend to run to other people and things.

So where do we find our refuge? Television? Alcohol? Food? A busy schedule? A person? David found hope in God. He took shelter in Him. We must remember, however, that a refuge doesn’t make the storm stop; rather, it provides shelter as the storm rages. Shelter as you clean out your desk at work. Shelter as you sign the papers. Shelter as the bruises surface.

In the midst of whatever we may be facing, let us found the courage to bear our hearts before God. Let us dare to hope in His unfailing love. Despite the confusion we may feel or the anger we may have towards Him, let us pour these out at into His arms of grace. May we have assurance knowing that David, a man after God’s own heart, also struggled with God. Yet he still came to Him. And that made all the difference. In coming he received peace, love, hope.

Redeeming Road Trip

It’s no secret. I have a mild road rage. Following behind slow drivers in the fast lane drives me into a vocal frenzy. If only they could hear me. I try to help them through subtle hand gestures, those that suggest they move into the lane a few feet to the right. Most of them don’t appear to speak my sign language.

On a recent road trip from Atlanta to Charlotte, phlegmatic drivers occupied the fast and slow lanes on a two-lane highway. My voice grew hoarser and hoarser throughout the afternoon. During this time, I also prayed and sang worship songs. Much like James of the Bible writes about in his letter, with the same mouth I praised God and cursed those made in His image. In the same breath I sang words of praise and then condemned drivers who failed to keep the pace. I knew this shouldn’t be so.

In the midst of my tantrum, I paused, turning my attention to Jesus. I shared with Him my frustration that even on Interstate 85, I witnessed flawed humanity. Things don’t operate the way they should. In all realms of reality, even more meaningful than slow traffic. Innocence fades. Children disobey. Parents separate. Friends betray. Loved ones pass away. Everything is broken.

I thought about how Jesus lived on the earth; God among subjected creation and decay. More than any other human, He had a sense of depravity and broken glory. Yet He spoke with kindness. He touched with gentleness. He taught with love. If anyone should have condemned and yelled and demanded to have things function according to design, it was Jesus.

But then, isn’t that why He came? To restore the marred image, mend the broken hearts, free the prisoners?

I realized how un-Jesus like I am. He focused not on the brokenness but on redemption. He didn’t point out all the wrongs, but pointed to the truth. He didn’t tear people down, but he led them forward, God-ward. Hope flowed through His words. Anger seems to spew through mine.

For much of my adult life I have focused on the negative side of reality, the pain, the heartache, the darkness. I thought I had a good idea about life on earth. And in some ways I do. The problem is that in Christ, there is more—hope, joy, peace, light, life, love.

I know now that I have been worldly-minded. As Jesus’ follower, I must look for redemption, pursue restoration, offer liberation. It is not enough to speak of broken creation. Love that mends has come. As His hands and feet, I now live to share that heartbeat with all those I meet. Even the carefree divers on I-85.

So I’m beginning to train myself to “look for redemption in everyone,” as Karin Berquist would say. I’m moving from anger and fear to hope and courage.

Christmas Wonders

I wonder what Mary thought as she held God’s Son for the first time. Did she reverently hold such a holy baby, fearing disappointing God if she made Him cry? Was she perplexed by raising her Savior, knowing she would one day submit to Him? How did she respond to the scowling faces that surrounded this scandalous, glorious birth?

I wonder what Joseph thought as his virgin wife nursed the Son of God. Did he feel overwhelmed at having to provide for his family’s needs, for the divine baby? How would he rear Jesus when His true Father reigned in heaven, ruling the earth? Did he often think back to the angel Gabriel, trying to convince himself all this had really happened, that Mary truly did give birth to God’s Son, that they are responsible for the Savior of the world?

I wonder what God felt when Mary delivered His Son, now in human form. Did He excite as He saw His salvific process coming to a climax with the birth of Jesus? Was He saddened to see His Son restrained by human body? Did He wince with pain at the thought of the agonizing, lonely life that awaited Him?

I wonder what Jesus thought when He left heaven to become a baby. Did He ponder what living like a human being, His prize creation, would feel like? Did He look forward to hugs and kisses, dinners and parties, smiles and laughter? Was He sad to leave the intimacy of the Father’s presence in order to bring salvation to the world?

I wonder what life would be like today if this baby was never born. Would people still live on the earth, or would God have already brought His judgment of fire and emptiness? Would we know only fear, anger, depression, loneliness, sin? What hope would remain of life and freedom and joy?

But the Wonder of all Wonders is that He did come to earth. He humbled Himself out of love to become a baby, who would become a man, who would become a sacrifice for sins. Our sins. He took on human skin to have whips lashed across His back, to have nails driven into His wrists, to have His blood drop to the ground. All to pay our debt, reunite us with the Father, give us life.

Our salvation has begun but it is not yet complete. So we wait. We look to the dawn of the everlasting day, where again the Son of God will come to earth and finally complete this salvation He has begun. And so I wonder.

I wonder what it will be like for humans to be born anew, sharing in His divine glory, enjoying life forever. How will relationships work without sin? What does unending joy feel like? What will we see when we look into the Savior's eyes? I wonder…

The Hand You Hold

A regrettable decision. A missed opportunity. A failed relationship. A wound from childhood. A great loss. It could be any number of things, but for many of us the thoughts of the past plague us. Some try to deny the thoughts, never dealing with the sin or the pain. Others may scrutinize the past to a point they fail to live in the present and move into the future. Both of these approaches hinder us from experiencing the joy of Christ.

Events in the past have affected who we are and often need to be processed and worked through. But there comes a point after we mourn the loss, grieve the wound, or repent of the sin that we must move on.

We hurt ourselves when we dwell in the past. We have no control over what has already happened. All we have is the present, which is full of future hope.

In Philippians 3:13-14, Paul writes, “…forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” To reach ahead, Paul had to let go of all the things he once prized (i.e. self-righteous pride). He had a new identity in Christ, and to take possession of this newness, he had to leave the old.

So too we cannot reach forward when we cling to our past wounds, past failings, past sin. In Christ, we are completely new. Our hearts wiped clean. But we cannot live out our new identity if we live in the past.

That does not mean our pain has ceased or we do not feel remorse. It’s a matter of focus. Do we dwell on the past? Or, do we allow God to mend our broken hearts, learn from our mistakes, repent of previous sin?

Daily, we have a choice about where we let our hearts dwell. Our future hope and present activities are closely connected. The promise of Christ’s second coming gives us the courage to live with faith, hope, and love today. And how we live today determines who we are tomorrow. So then, learning from the past, living in today, and looking towards Christ’s return helps us live out our divine call as imagers of God.

As we cease from the despair which results from looking at our past, and turn to hope through Christ’s return, we will live more fully, with joy and with peace. Focusing on that day helps us move forward in life, trusting and resting in His grace. Let us then let go of the past and join Paul in reaching forward to the hand of Christ.


Thought(s) of the day:
What of the past do you cling to? What keeps your grip from letting go? What would it look like if you dropped the past and took hold of your future with Christ?

One of Those Days

You know those days when everything seems to go wrong? Today was one such day for me. I had problems at work, issues with peers, frustrations over broken appliances. Even the sprinkler system soaked me as it watered the autumn ground. Nothing went right; everything went wrong.

In my angst, I turned to God, “God, how can I deal with this?” In that moment I realized I spoke to One who knew my struggle. Not much has gone right for God either, so to speak.* He made us to image Him, to enjoy Him, to know and share His love. But ever since the bite of the forbidden fruit, this divine call and gift shattered. God’s world broke, His creation started decaying, death took over. He subjected His creation to futility. Ever since then He pursues us, broken and rebellious image-bearers, many of whom refuse to acknowledge His presence.

How did He respond when things didn’t go His way? One word: redemptively. Even though He subjected His creation to futility, He did so in hope. Starting in Eden, He began fixing what went awry, what we broke. He initiated. He pursued. He engaged. He forgave. He loved. He went so far as to send His one and only Son, Jesus Christ, to die for our sins, to restore His image in us.

God didn’t and doesn’t give up. What He started, He will finish. When people failed to respond correctly to Him, He refused to abandon us. Instead He engaged with the broken pieces, seeking out restoration, and will one day finalize His glorious redemptive masterpiece. That’s what God does; He restores. In a broken world full of broken people, God brings hope through His creative redemptive work in Christ.

A recipient of this restorative love, I want to respond as my Maker. Today that means forgiving and loving those who hurt me. It means I interact with friends and family in view of God’s grace imparted to me. It means when the heater fails to usher out heat, I look to heaven where moth, rust, time cannot destroy.

When things go wrong, we can find hope through knowing we have Savior who empathizes with our groanings. Through His Spirit, we learn to respond as He does—in engaged love in view of the hope of restoration.

*It should be noted that from the beginning, God determined to carry out His plan of salvation. Humanity’s rebellion did not catch God off guard and cause Him to rethink His plans. His plan has always been a plan of redemption culminating in Christ’s return and entrance into the eschaton. Eden is not perfection; heaven is perfection. It is a great mystery that God should plan to create the human race with the ability to rebel, only to have a salvific plan installed from the beginning. Surely His wisdom, His grace, His love none can fathom.

God's Liberator

Luke 4:16-21

Picture this scene. The Jews have gathered in the temple on the Sabbath, just like many of us now gather at church on Sunday morning. Jesus, the One who everyone in town is talking about (v. 15), comes to the front stage to speak. All eyes focus on Him. Finally, they get to hear Him speak.

He takes the scroll of Isaiah and reads Isaiah 61:1, “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the afflicted; He has sent me to bind up the broken hearted, to proclaim liberty to captives and freedom to prisoners.” As He speaks, the people's hearts excite over what Jesus will teach them. How does this verse apply to us? Who will God send? Will Jesus explain these matters?

But Jesus doesn’t start teaching when He finishes reading. He steps back from the podium and sits down. No wonder "the eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on Him."

Perhaps picking up on the cue that He should say something else, Jesus adds, "Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing." Attendees exchange glances. What does He mean the verse has been fulfilled? By whom? Where is the liberator?

Slowly, they begin to understand. It's Him. Jesus is the One God has sent to help, to heal, to liberate. He is the One they have been waiting for. Finally, help has come.

Could you imagine sitting in the room that day, listening, thinking about what holds you captive, the issues that plague your mind, the darkness you live in. And, as if to only you, He says, "I’m here to rescue you. I’ve heard your pleas, felt your tears, known your fears. And I’ve come to break you out of the prison that's keeping you from Me. I have come to liberate you, to love you, to show you the light of day. I am He.”

And He is still here. His mission has not changed. He has come to set us, the captives, free. Jesus came to deliver us from the bondage of sin, the very thing that causes our pains, our fears, our addictions. The cross that brought freedom then provides freedom today.

The grace of Christ in His death and resurrection is the very hope and good news for us in our daily struggles. Let us allow Him entrance into our places of weakness, temptation, sorrow. He can deliver us from any prison, no matter the length of confinement or the strength of the prison bars. Nothing is too difficult for Jesus, God’s liberator.

God in Our Grief

God cares about our pain. I often forget this truth when I suffer. My earthly tears tend to hide His heavenly face. But the truth is, as the fierce winds of grief swirl about us, God stands to offer us support, comfort, and understanding. He is “the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (1 Cor 1:3, 4).

We live in a fallen world where, throughout our lives, we experience pain, struggles, and loss. We cannot escape these effects of sin. Hope, however, comes from trusting the God who redeems even painful events, bringing about our transformation. God miraculously causes all things in believers’ lives to work for good (Rom 8:28). This includes grief.

Furthermore, we have a Savior who walked on this earth and encountered the sorrows of life as a human. Recall the story of Jesus mourning the loss of His friend Lazarus (John 11:1–44). He hurt. He wept. He grieved. He experienced the overwhelming sense of loss that we often encounter in this broken world.

So when the winds of loss come against us, let our relationship with God help support us through the emotional whirlwind. Let us learn to receive understanding, compassion, and hope from the God of all comfort. He supports us through His love, His compassion, and His experience. And in knowing God more deeply, we will come to look more like Jesus (Rom 5:3-5).

Far From Home

“For our citizenship is in heaven from which we eagerly await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.” - Phil 3:20 NASB


I remember the first time I visited a foreign country. The landscape, people, and culture captured my attention. While I enjoyed my stay, however, I knew I did not belong. My skin color, language and food preferences differed from the natives. Clearly, I was a visitor.

So too I often feel out of place in this world. I want love, but often find indifference. I long for perfect relationships, but have constant conflicts. I yearn for life, but see death. While sorrows usually only bring me pain, I find they also give me hope. They serve as tour guides pointing out the broken landscape, the wounded people, and the distorted culture of earth, ever reminding me of my absence from home.

As various problems arise, from spilt milk to loss of a job to the death of a loved one, I’m learning to understand the language they speak. I hear the whisper of hope. We can use our trials to remind us to look toward Christ’s return, to living in harmony with each other, and to enjoying life forever in the presence of our heavenly Father.

Unfulfilled Promises

All these died in faith, without receiving the promises, but having seen them and having welcomed them from a distance, and having confessed that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For those who say such things make it clear that they are seeking a country of their own (Heb 11:13-14).

I love, hate and need this passage. It reminds me that we don’t necessarily see the results of God's promises this side of heaven. I find this truth annoying. I want the promises today. Not tomorrow, not in twenty years. Now. Typically, I have read this text as encouragement to look towards Christ’s return when He will make all things new. Today, my lens gets more focused. I see that my hope includes a freedom from this fleshly body; that is, Christ will free me of the sin that hurts, distracts, and kills. I tire of the Christian struggle between godliness and selfishness. I weary of the conflict between knowing how I ought to live and the way I live. Instead of having a heart that loves God, I have a heart bent on self that alienates and mars relationships.

The promise of restoration and redemption will remain unfulfilled on earth. There's hope in that for me, one who continues to give in to the flesh, but who longs for more, who longs to love as her Savior. And perhaps the longing transforms, for hope itself has a way of healing. So today, I press on towards His righteousness, knowing that my healing will fully take place in a much better world:

And indeed if they had been thinking of that country from which they went out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God; for He has prepared a city for them (Heb 11:15-16).