If You Are, Then Say So!

Psalm 107:1-2 (NLT) says this,

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good!
His faithful love endures forever.

Has the LORD redeemed you? Then speak out!
Tell others he has saved you.

In this psalm, the goodness and faithfulness of the Lord are demonstrated in two acts - redeeming and gathering, setting free and bringing back.

The earliest frame of reference for my understanding of redemption comes from grocery shopping with my Mom. Redeem was what my Mom did at the grocery store with coupons she clipped from the paper. Redemption usually wasn't worth more than twenty or thirty cents.

Redeem is a critical theological word with powerful meaning in our spiritual lives. To redeem means to pay something off or to buy something back, to restore reputation or to make something acceptable.

Another translation puts verse 2 this way, "Let the redeemed of the LORD say so." It's a call to stand up and be heard. If you're redeemed, then say so!

Am I redeemed? Geez, probably so. At least I'm supposed to be. Probably not more than twenty or thirty cents worth, though.

Who are the redeemed? Let's take a look.

"Some of them wandered in deserts" (Psalm 107:4). They couldn't find their way to a place to settle down. Sounds like restlessness, to me. Hungry and thirsty. The unsatisfied pursuit of something more, just out of reach. Feeling like their lives are slipping away.

"Others lived in the deepest darkness" (Psalm 107:10). Not just darkness - deepest darkness. People suffering as prisoners because they refused to follow God's advice. Prisoners doing hard time, at that. No one to help when they trip and fall.

"Others were foolish" (Psalm 107:17). Folks who endure the self-inflicted suffering of their own sin. Make their bed, then sleep in it. Don't eat anything, and wonder why they're hungry.

"Others sailed out on the ocean in ships" (Psalm 107:23). Folks who get a rush from the adventure of working and playing on the surface of deep water, living on the edge. The water gets a little choppy. No problem. That just feeds the rush. But when the storms come and the winds blow and the going really gets rough, courage melts away.

Do any of these describe you? They do me. Wandered in the desert. Lived in pretty deep darkness. Been foolish. Been over my head in the deep end.

God puts me on a straight path. I wander off, and God leads me back. God breaks the chains of things that hold me captive. God saves me from trouble and heals me. God brings me out of trouble, calms the storms and guides me to a safe harbor.

Are you redeemed? I am!

Are you redeemed? Then say so! Speak out! Tell others how God has restored you, bought you back, made you acceptable. It ain't about you - it's an act of praise, a testimony to God's faithful love.

My redemption cost Jesus his life. He sets me free and brings me back, so that I don't have to live alone in deserts, darkness, deep water or my own darn foolishness. That's worth more than twenty or thirty cents, isn't it?

The Peril of Do-It-Yourself Pslogging

I'm a do-it-yourself kind of guy. Don't knock it - I was raised that way. You know, you and I come by these annoying idiosyncracies honestly.

If you want something done right, do it yourself. Self-sufficiency is a virtue. Keep your head down, and persevere through the bumps in road. Don't draw attention to yourself, just do your thing - others will notice the things you do and pay respect to your achievements.

The psalmist describes me with remarkable accuracy in Psalm 10:5-6:

Everything always goes well for him.
So he is proud.

He says to himself, "I will always be secure.
I will always be happy. I'll never have any trouble."

Yep. That's me. I bought into the security of self-constructed success. For the better part of forty years, I lived in the facade of this happy place. And it was a really nice place to live. Had everything I needed, so I thought. Wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world.

In Psalm 10:2, the psalmist describes this attitude as "arrogance." What does he know?

Needless to say, the facade crumbled. The security failed. The do-it-yourself mentality ended up being woefully inadequate. The arrogance jumped up and bit me in the ass.

Self-sufficiency is unnecessary. It's not faithful, and it's bad theology.

The psalmist writes in Psalm 38:3-5,

Because of my sin, I'm not healthy.
My guilt has become too much for me.
It is a load too heavy to carry.
My wounds are ugly. They stink.
I've been foolish. I have sinned.

When the self-sufficiency began to crumble, I really resonated with what the psalmist writes in Psalm 38:8. "I am weak. I feel as if I've been broken in pieces."

The burdens of life are more than any one of us can carry on his or her own. God doesn't expect us to carry life's loads alone, and God doesn't really want us to try. To try is ultimately foolish.

Not to mention the guilt and illness that inevitably attaches itself along the way. To try bearing this alone is to try something I'm not created to do or capable of doing.

God is not far away, and God is waiting to help. I'm learning to give up the need to do it all by myself. It's a process, and I'm not all the way there yet. But early experiences tell me that it's going to be a happier place than anything I can create on my own.

Pslogging Feet

Psalm 119:105 says,

Your word is a lamp to my feet
and a light for my path.

Shine your light, O Lord, on these pslogging feet.

How Long?

How long?

Ride any distance in the car with a group of kids, and you're certain to hear this question.

How long?

It's an impatient question. Not happy where we are. Stuck. Tired of being on the journey. Wish we could be somewhere else.

How long?

It's not a question satisfied with one answer. It's a question asked over and over again.

How long?

"'Bout an hour." That's become my standard answer to the question. The same question over and over deserves the same answer, doesn't it?

How long?

The more I read the Psalms, the more I feel like the psalmist is a long lost friend, one with whom I share many common life experiences.

How long?

That's the question the psalmist asks in Psalm 13:2.

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and every day have sorrow in my heart?

The psalmist is persistent. He asks the question four times in just two verses. A few verses later, he expresses trust in God's love and goes on to affirm "You have been good to me, Lord."

In spite of his trust and affirmation, though, the psalmist asks, "How long, Lord?"

I can relate to that. I trust God (at least I say I do), and I know God's goodness. But I also wrestle with my thoughts, and I frequently experience sorrow for no apparent reason.

Terrence Real introduced me to the name covert depression. Winston Churchill called it "the black dog." Maybe they didn't call it "depression" back in the day of the psalmist, but from my reading, the name applies.

It's not a happy thing, depression. I feel stuck. It's only been two years since I accepted this name for my experience, but truth is it's been a lifelong journey. I'm tired of this ride, and I want to get off.

How long?

Damn right. That question's loaded with impatience!

How long?

It's not just impatience. It's a question of expectancy, too. Sure we're weary from the journey, but hope keeps us moving toward the destination. We trust the One who's driving. Surely we must be close.

First Things First

Ever get so preoccupied with things that need to be done that you miss something important? I do.

I typically get up in the morning with several things in mind that need to be accomplished during the day. Part of the morning routine is refining the mental list of things to do. Frequently, I carry over things that didn't get done the day before - errands to run, bills to pay, calls to return.

Now that it's summer, my kids are being pretty persistent about getting their requests registered first thing in the morning. "Daddy, will you take us swimming today?" "Daddy, can I play a game with you?" "Daddy, will you make me some jelly toast?" Nothing insurmountable. Nothing I don't want to do. Nothing I won't happily make room for in the already forming list of things to get done. Just rapid fire requests, one after another, from three kids to their Daddy.

In moments of arrogance, I think to myself that the things I need to get done are of greater importance than swimming, games and jelly toast. But to my three kids, they are putting into words their simplest needs, their desire to be in relationship, their hope for something that brings them moments of joy and laughter.

Psalm 5:3 says this,

In the morning, O LORD, you hear my voice;
in the morning I lay my requests before you
and wait in expectation.

My kids start the day by laying their requests before me. And they wait in expectation. Sometimes not very patiently, but they wait in expectation nonetheless. If they don't get what they ask for, they'll ask again. I do my best to make sure the jelly toast gets made and the games get played. More days than not, lately, we make the late afternoon walk to the neighborhood pool after I get home from work and before we sit down for dinner.

My kids are teaching me something pretty important. I have a heavenly Father who loves me - who satisfies my simplest needs, who desires to be in relationship with me, who relishes opportunities to lead me on paths of joy and laughter.

Most days, I get up and jump right in to the routine of things that need to be done. I neglect the time to lay my requests before the Lord. Lord knows how impatient I get when things don't go the way I want.

Maybe I should try something new in the morning. Maybe I should take time to lay my requests before the Lord before I get sucked into the competing demands of my time and energy.

God hears my voice when I express to Him the things I need and give voice to my hopes and dreams. Surely it pleases God for His children to start the day this way, even more than it pleases me to hear the innocent, expectant voices of my children.

Listen While You Pslog

I went on a retreat last weekend, and I shared a cabin with three other men. Sharing a cabin with other guys doesn't have near the novelty that it did during adolescence.

Realizing this, the hosts for the retreat graciously placed ear plugs on each of our beds. I was glad to have the ear plugs because the guys in the beds on either side of me raised quite a ruccus. It was surround sound snoring.

About 4:00 a.m., I awoke with a gentle nudge from Mother Nature. Wait a minute! I must be getting old. In the last two paragraphs, I've admitted using ear plugs and not being able to sleep through the night without having to...you know.

Anyway, the surroundings of the cabin were unfamiliar. My internal sleep navigation system wasn't calibrated to the location of the furniture, the direction of the bathroom and the location of the light switch.

And it was dark. I tried to move carefully so as not to awaken any of the nocturnal snoring trio. As I moved slowly toward the restroom, I realized that my balance was shakier than usual. Then it hit me. I still had the ear plugs in. Once I pulled out the ear plugs, I was able to navigate the darkness with greater balance and agility.

This was a spiritual revelation. When I try to navigate through dark and unfamiliar settings, it's hard to maintain my balance when my ears are plugged. The corollary is this. Open ears help me maintain my balance as I move through dark and unfamiliar surroundings.

Sometimes we go through stuff we've never been through before. A personal problem. A phyiscal illness. A moral dilemma. A professional challenge. More often than not, there's an element of darkness and uncertainty to these times.

In Psalm 81:5-6, the psalmist recalls a message from God for the Israelites as they made their way out of Egypt into the unfamiliar frontier of the wilderness.

I will relieve your shoulder of its burden;
I will free your hands from their heavy tasks.
You cried to me in trouble, and I saved you.

This message continues in Psalm 81:8, "Listen to me, people...if you would only listen." How many of us who are parents have ever spoken these words? That will be another entry in The Pslog.

Then, in what must have been a moment of justified cynicism, God says in Psalm 81:11-13,

But no, my people wouldn't listen.
Israel did not want me around.
So I let them follow their blind and stubborn way,
living according to their own desires.
But oh, that my people would listen to me!

I can just hear the tone in God's voice - "But nooooooo..."

God gives me the freedom to feel my way blindly through dark and unfamiliar terrains, but it's a lot easier to maintain my balance, and I move with much more agility, if I listen to God.

Decisive Pslogging

Sometimes it really drives me nuts when people keep changing their minds.

There was another driver on the expressway today during my morning commute. (Actually, there were lots of other drivers on the expressway this morning!) One in particular, though, merged across two lanes as he came to the end of the entrance ramp. I quit counting after he made his sixth lane change in about a mile and a half.

My wife gets ready to go to church on Sunday morning. She steps into the bedroom and asks what I think. After twelve years of marriage, I know what comes next. I look down at her feet and see that she's wearing two different shoes. I offer my opinion as to which pair of shoes is the best match for the beautiful outfit she's chosen. She puts on the shoes I choose. Then she asks if I'm sure. She goes back into the closet and puts on the other pair - the one I didn't choose. Then she picks a third pair to parade into the bedroom. Finally, she changes her outfit to match a fourth pair all together.

My kids call my cell phone. The want to know if I'll pick up McDonald's on my way home from work. I carefully go through the order to make sure I have the right number of chicken nuggets, the right number of cheeseburgers, the right ingredients on the cheeseburgers, the right drinks...you get the picture. By the time I get home, my youngest (who's 5) decides that she wants a burger instead of chicken nuggets. Drama ensues.

Indecisiveness really frustrates me. Most of the time. I think. Well, sort of. Okay, even my own indecisivness is frequently a source of frustration. I can't just blame it on everyone else.
Decisiveness projects confidence. Indecisiveness reveals insecurity. Confidence is better than insecurity, isn't it?

Psalm 110:4 says this,

The LORD has sworn
and will not change his mind:
"You are a priest forever,
in the order of Melchizedek."

The Lord will not change his mind. Thank God! Frankly, sometimes I'm all over the map. Don't tell anyone, though. Not disciplined about reading the Bible. Neglect to spend time praying. Occasionally would rather sleep in than go to church. Give to God from the leftovers instead of giving to God first. Don't do things I know I should, and do things I know I shouldn't. Waiver in my confidence in God to follow through on God's promises.

I'd be in deep trouble if God decided to reconsider his love for me, my salvation, his claim at my baptism, the calling to ministry he gave to me. I'm a priest forever.

In the order of whom? Mel-kiz-uh-what? Not one I remember from my early days of Sunday school.

Read Genesis 14:17-19. Melchizedek is the priest who blessed Abram. Abram becomes Abraham. God enters a covenant with Abraham. Over the next several chapters, God repeats over and over that Abraham will become a blessing for all nations on earth.

Melchizedek blessed the one who goes on to be a blessing for all nations. Being a priest in this order means that I get to bless those will become blessings for others. The blessing of my ministry can have that impact.

God wants me to be more decisive in blessing others. I'm sure God isn't going to change his mind on that, either.

Pslogging Companions

Several months ago, I had a counselor tell me that I didn't do relationships very well. My first reaction - he had a lot of nerve to say that to me!

I know a lot of people. Work in a visible vocation. Can't go many places without seeing someone I know. Long line of recognized accomplishments. And I'm a likeable guy. But being likeable, successful and knowing lots of people don't mean I do relationships well.

When you find yourself in trouble, you can tell a lot about the fabric of your friends, can't you? Fortunately, I haven't been in too much trouble along the way. A while back, though, I found myself in some trouble, and my relationship deficiency finally got exposed.

I got stuck in the mud. Admittedly it was a mess. All of a sudden, most of the people I considered my friends were no where to be found. Well, they weren't really no where. They just didn't want anything to do with me. Didn't even tell me to go to hell. Just turned off our 'friendship' like a light switch.

One thing I love about the Psalms is that they seem to cover the full range of emotions and experiences of my life. There aren't many things that I go through that God hasn't already seen someone else through along the way.

Check out what the psalmists have to say their experience with some of their friends:

• Psalm 31:11 - "I am a dread to my friends - those who see me on the street flee from me."
• Psalm 35:15 - "But when I stumbled, they (friends) gathered in glee."
• Psalm 38:11 - "My friends and companions avoid me because of my wounds."
• Psalm 41:9 - "Even my close friend, whom I trusted, he who shared my bread, has lifted up his heel against me."
• Psalm 55:12-14 - "If an enemy were insulting me, I could endure it; if a foe were raising himself against me, I could hide from him. But it is you, a man like myself, my companion, my close friend, with whom I once enjoyed sweet fellowship as we walked with the throng at the house of God."

If you've experienced pain at the hands of your friends, take heart - you're not alone. Loneliness is everything it's cracked up to be. It sucks. That's all there is to it. But in spite of all the crap the psalmists endured at the hands of their friends, they kept crying out to God.

The psalmists' experiences sound frighteningly similar to mine. So-called friends who flee when they see me, gather in glee when I stumble, avoid me because of my wounds and lift their heels against me.

Through it all, though, God's right there. Psalm 55:22 says, "Cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you."

Even when you don't know which of your friends you can really count on, give it to God. God won't let you down.

Asking for Help

Okay, I'll admit it. I frequently exhibit the stereotypical male trait reluctari requaesta - the unwillingness, if not sheer inability, to ask for help.

To do so is to admit weakness, to show vulnerability. It compromises the competitive edge. It requires you to demonstrate that someone else can do something you can't. How demoralizing is that? Self-sufficiency is a premium asset.

In most instances, the context is innocuous. Asking for directions. Moving furniture. Loading the car. Carrying the groceries or the dry cleaning. Pulling wire for surround-sound speakers. Getting the family's luggage from baggage claim to the car in the airport parking lot.

Looking at its etymology, "reluctant" is not a passive adjective. Its Latin origin means literally "to struggle against." It's not just that men choose not to ask for directions, for example. We struggle against asking for directions.

There comes a point, however, when this asset becomes a liability. After a while, we become desensitized to the warning signs that we're in over our head, and we find ourselves in deep stuff, beyond our ability to manage on our own.

Psalm 18:4-6 describes it like this:

The cords of death entangled me;
the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.

The cords of the grave
coiled around me;
the snares of death confronted me.

In my distress I called to the LORD;
I cried to my God for help.
From his temple he heard my voice;
my cry came before him, into his ears.

We don't know the specifics of the situation surrounding the psalmist, but it sounds pretty dire. The psalmist is in distress, tangled in the cords and snares of a big mess. It's so bad that the psalmist can do nothing but cry to God for help. Ever been in a predicament like that? I have.

The next verses in this psalm demonstrate the extent to which God will go when you cry to God for help. The earth trembles and quakes. Mountain foundations shake. Heavens part. Dark rain clouds and wind. Hailstorms and lightning bolts. Thunder. Shooting arrows. Sea valleys exposed.

Cry to God for help, and God hears my voice. God reaches down and draws me out of the deep stuff.

You know why God goes through all this when I cry to God for help?

Psalm 18:19 says this, "He rescued me because he delighted in me."

Wow! God goes through all this, just because he delights in me. Imagine this - over all the noise, all the distress calls, all the cries for help, God hears my voice.

That's pretty remarkable. There's no one else who will go to this extent when I ask for help. Dark clouds, wind, hailstorms, lightning and thunder - all of these demonstrate God's delight in me.

Maybe I'll stop and ask for help more often.