FAITH IN CRISIS: A Psalm of Lament for the Church
How long, O Lord? Must we cry out to your Name?
How long, O Lord? Will our pleas echo in the chamber of your throne-room?
How long, O Lord? Will you turn your face away from
We feel the social distance from you.
Every day the isolation suffers like a prison sentence.
How long will we be forced into solitude?
Every day the news is dar
As we seek to find the light.
The number sickened by COVID-19 climbs,
While the number of available PPE’s diminishes.
Unemployment rates are rising,
As businesses struggle to stay afloat.
With high school seniors, born about the time of 9-11,
Graduating in the midst of a Pandemic.
And churches no longer able to assemble;
The online experience only fills a temporary void,
Like empty calories inside empty church buildings.
How long, O Lord? Till the tide turns?
We look to you for an answer,
But what we hear is white noise.
They say, “God is punishing the Land for its sins:
By closing athletic venues for worshiping athletes;
By shutting down theaters for propping up entertainers;
By collapsing the stock market for embracing greed;
By locking down the parks for focusing on the creation instead of the Creator.”
And when they speak we fall into despair.
Hear our petitions and respond to our cries,
Like a parent who wakes in the night at their child’s cry;
Like a parent who wakes in the night at their child’s cry.
Send us your comfort for we are shaken and fearful,
For we feel abandoned;
For we feel forsaken.
We wait for you in the night,
Knowing the night is always darkest before the dawn.
What shall we do until you speak?
How shall we proceed until you act?
We shall remember your great deeds of the past,
We shall hope and live in your promises.
We shall pray diligently and passionately,
For our own confession and repentance,
And to intercede on behalf of the wounded and afflicted.
We shall sing your praises
And we shall sing them to the top of our lungs.
We shall be your Comfort to those needing comforting,
And bring the Light to those in the darkness.
For our hope and trust is rooted in you,
And in your salvation through your Son.
As we long for a day when your people will assemble again,
We long for that Day when we assemble in your very presence.
For it is your love that sustains us,
And your grace which holds us together.
And your promise that give us hope.
Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified!)
Inspired by Psalm 13 ● Lament is a passionate expression of grief or sorrow
Immanuel: God with Us
There Is Still Good Left in the World
The Faith Continuum: Striking the Balance Between Fear & Arrogance
“I do believe, help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24)
Not long ago I watched a video of someone trying to speak into the anxiety we’re experiencing as a society. He discussed the tension between fear and faith. The perspective he offered provided a single choice between two clearly defined actions: fear or faith. With lines drawn we’re given a specific choice, and the biblical narrative accentuates the two decisions: we can either act in faith or fear.
When the disciples are crossing the Sea of Galilee in the storm and, whether Jesus is sleeping in the boat (Mk. 4:35-41) or walking on the water (Mk. 6:47-52), their reaction is the same, fear instead of faith. When Jesus is arrested, the twelve scattered into the night, choosing fear instead of faith (Mk. 14:40). The fear of the young man present was so strong he’d rather be caught naked than with Jesus (Mk. 14:51). Following the resurrection, and right before Jesus appeared to them, ten of the disciples were hiding behind locked doors in fear of the Jews (Jn. 20:19). If they came after Jesus, they’re coming after the twelve.
We know fear. It paralyzes our faith and keeps us from stepping out of the boat and onto the water. Once walking in faith, it draws our eyes off of Jesus and onto the waves so that we sink. Fear keeps us from making decisions. Doubt and guilt jump on board for fear tells us, “what if the alternative we make is the wrong choice?” So we resort to a “no-decision” believing it’s the safest decision. And in the process, faith is pushed to the corner of our lives where it simply collects dust.
For the longest time I saw fear and faith as the only options. I now feel it’s more complicated. First, while fear stands on one side of faith, arrogance stands on the other. Arrogant pride is often harder to dissect for it comes off as confidence. And the assurance is not in God, but self. It does not point to God but to self. Samson thumbing his nose at God and his parents by violating his Nazarite vow (see Judges 14:3 which should be translated, “she’s the right one in my eyes”). Jesus told the parable of the two men going to the temple to pray, and the prideful one bragged about his piety and measured his spirituality against the guy next to him (Lk. 18:9-14). When the devil tempted Jesus, he quoted from Psalm 91 (ironically, a Psalm that many have posted on FaceBook), tempting Jesus to jump to his “death.” Jesus refused the bait and warned the devil of putting God to the test (Lk. 4:9-11). Jesus’ challenges us to seek humility, for if not on your own, God will ensure humility (Lk. 18:14).
But the second realization is that faith is all about a continuum, as degrees are present on either side of faith. The father in Mark 9 had a level of faith, but his faith was somewhere between faith and fear. Peter had faith, but when he promised to die with Jesus (Mk. 14:29), his faith was somewhere between faith and arrogance. While we aim for faith, we generally find ourselves fluctuating between fear and faith or faith and arrogance.
So here we stand in faith, which is now feeling like a moving target. And it is. And it’s always felt like a moving target, not because God moves it but we move it. Faith’s “move” occurs because we fluctuate between fear and arrogance. Faith “moves” because of our sinful nature will not allow us to remain steady. So in truth, faith is constant, we are not.
So how do you know where you stand? If you’re even asking this question, you’re probably closer to acting in faith than you think. If you’re pointing the spotlight on others and off of yourself, you’re probably standing closer to faith than you think. If your biblical assurance is mixed with the humble reality of “I could be wrong,” then you’re probably drawn to faith more than you think. If you have a heart to serve your neighbor, then you’re inching your way to faith more than you think. If you speak in confessional tones, then you’re probably nearer to faith than you think. If you make decisions based on the good of others more than what’s good for you, then your edging closer to faith more than you think.
“I do believe,” was the cry of the father. It’s our cry too as we continue to walk in faith without fear or arrogance.
Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified!)
Comfort
God’s Reassurance
Ray of Hope – Relaunch
“Let’s Be Careful Out There!” Faith in the Face of Fear
Sergeant Phil Esterhaus, played by Michael Conrad, gave roll call and the morning report to the men and women comprised of the precinct on Hill Street. He was the father figure to the police officers and the voice of reason. After summarizing the local crime activities, he dismissed the officers but not before warning them, “Let’s be careful out there!”
Police work is hard and dangerous work. Police work in the urban cities carries its own unique difficulties with so many people living in such tight quarters. A daily reminder to keep vigilant is not only needed but wise in its own right.
We live in a time of heightened anxiety. Fear feels like it’s lurching behind every corner and dark alleyway. With the opioid crises still hovering, crime rates higher than what is comfortable, amount of (sex) trafficking keeps growing and with the high level of domestic violence, we need reminded to be careful out there.
Being careful out there does not mean we embrace fear, for we are a people of faith. But being people of faith also does not mean we ignore our surroundings, in fact we should be mindful of what is happening around us. Even Jesus exhorted the Twelve to mindful of current events unfolding around them, either in regard to the temple’s destruction and/or to his return (three times he says “watch” in Mark 13:32-35). But he doesn’t tell us to be afraid, worried or filled with anxiety.
I believe what drives the fear today comes from two sources. First is the twenty-four hour news cycle. Not only do these news media outlet use fear to drive their coverage/agendas, but the fear keeps us from turning it off. Like a cliffhanger, we’re driven to see what happens next. Ultimately, we have no time to process and reflect on the information feeding us (Ps. 1:2; 46:10). So we’re overwhelmed by information and exasperated at the same time.
Secondly, social media exasperates our fear. By leveling the playing field, a person’s voice is heard and engaged when normally they are discarded or ignored. Even more so, he who has an opinion caries the same weight as a specialist in that same field (and memes are viewed, not as satire, but as solid truth). Everyone, then, is an expert accountant, historian, theologian, doctor, etc. Feeding that mindset is the amount of disingenuous websites available to the public, wherein we know nothing of their origin or agenda. Even then, conspiracy theorists throw shade on the fact-checkers. We’re overwhelmed with information and have (or should have) trust issues with sources of information. No wonder we live in a time of heightened fears.
As people of faith we neither panic when facing uncertain times nor be dismissive without cause or evidence. True faith is the non-anxious presence, like Jesus sleeping on the boat in the midst of the storm (Mk. 4:35-38). The wind and the waves were real and the disciples were afraid. Fear, not just of the deep, but the actual danger drove the disciples into panic. But Jesus is not simply sleeping on the job or sticking his head in the sand to hoping the storm goes away. He’s resting in the One who holds the world in his hands. He lives in faith.
Faith might mean we use the news media to get the information we need, and then turn it off so that it does not consume us. Faith might mean we put social media aside so that we stay in our moment, not someone else’s moment. Faith might mean we’re staying prepared for an emergency without being consumed by something that may or may not happen. Faith might mean not crossing the emotional/imagined bridge before actually arriving at the bridge. Faith might mean inviting someone to your table, even if the oil runs dry. Faith might mean washing your hands for twenty seconds, then going on with life as normal. Faith might mean creating some physical distance without creating emotional distance.
So Sergeant Esterhaus was right, “Let’s be careful out there!” And while we’re being careful, let’s avoid checking our faith at the door on the way out.
Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified!)
“Where Are You, God?” Faith in the Midst of Suffering
Questioning God’s presence or his sovereign rule during the midst of tragic suffering is common among believers. One might say it’s the norm. For if everything is under God’s reign, then what happens under his watch is on him. The buck has to stop somewhere. “Where are you, God?” ends up being a good question.
While Jesus was hanging on the cross, he cried out in a loud voice, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mt. 27:46; Mk. 34). Most people believe Jesus was facing a form of “separation anxiety.” At the very moment God turned his back on his Son, Jesus felt alone, vulnerable and abandoned. Like a child who cannot find his parents in the store, Jesus appears to be unable to find God.
When Job was enduring his assault from Satan he questioned God’s ability to rule. With a belief rooted in retribution, he announced his innocence having done nothing to deserve such punishment (Job 6:24-30). Job’s friends believed otherwise (Job 5:17) and assumed their friend was holding out on them. So disturbed, Job was willing to take God to court, even though he was convinced justice was beyond his reach (Job 9:3, 17-18).
How do we step into the vacuum of the unanswerable question, “Where are you, God?”
Deadly tornados swept through Middle Tennessee leaving in its wake about a 200 (?) mile mass of destruction and death. At this time 24 people have died, most of whom are children and in Putnam County. While all have been accounted for, some 150 were hospitalized. One site claimed that 75 buildings were destroyed in Nashville alone. The number that hurts the most is the 18 children who died, particularly the four year-old girl of the Collegeside Church of Christ youth minister.
So in the midst of our pain as we endure the suffering around us, we ask, “Where are you, God?”
Job was granted his wish. He was offered the chance to present his case before God, but the Almighty asked the first series of questions. He grilled Job on the details of the universe and complications and difficulties of comprehending how the world even works. Job never received an answer for his suffering, even though we were told from the opening lines of the drama what was unfolding behind the scenes. Job realized that his finite mind cannot comprehend the infinite (Job 42:1-6). Sometimes that’s where we sit. We stop reading into the cause or looking for an explanation. Certainly, we refrain from indicting God. We simply trust that God is bigger than our biggest moment of tragic suffering.
Astute readers of Scripture will note that Jesus quoted Psalm 22:1 while on the cross. Some assume he was framing his suffering in the faith of the Psalmist because it reads like a prophecy to the cross. It also ends with hope, and the very next Psalm proclaim the faith of following the Good Shepherd (Ps. 23). But something else is at work too. As Jesus utters these words from the cross, it’s the only time in the New Testament where he refers to his Father as God. Even more so, Jesus personalizes his relationship with God by crying out, “My God, My God” (emphasis mine). The closeness and intimacy Jesus had with his Father is evident even in the most difficult, tragic and unjust moment in humanity’s history. Instead of focusing on “forsaken,” we should focus on his intimate relationship with God. He’s not just anybody’s God, he’s “my God.”
So we ask the question, “Where are you, God?” and in his silence we beg for an answer.
But God is far from silent. In the midst of a tornado, sickness, fear, forsakenness and death, God speaks. He provides an answer. He offers the answer. As we gaze upon the Golgotha hill, we watch Jesus suffering from the cross. For in the midst of his faithful suffering we find our answer. The God of the universe, who reigns above all, is suffering with us.
Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified!)