Where Do You Put What You Don't Have?

I wish I lived in a smaller house. I'd have a lower mortgage. The utility bill wouldn't cause near as much pain. I'd have less house to clean. And I'd have less stuff. Don't get me wrong, I love my house. Just as important, my wife and kids love our house.

Nonetheless, there are days I long for a simpler life. And I believe that could be achieved with less house.

The primary reason is what I call the theory of expansion. The theory goes like this - you accumulate as much stuff as you have space to accumulate it. In other words, more space, more stuff. The amount of stuff expands to the amount of space. You can't move to bigger space to get more space because you'll inveriably get more stuff to fill the space.

It's a daily battle around our house to keep all our stuff put in its proper place. I constantly have to remind my kids that the entry way is not the place to accumulate the shoes that they kick off as soon as they walk through the front door. And don't leave your dirty close laying on the floor in your room. I never heard that one growing up. Ha!

Psalm 130:5-7 says this,

With all my heart I wait for the Lord to help me.
I put my hope in his word.

I wait for the Lord to help me.
I wait with more longing
than those on guard duty wait for the morning.
I'll say it again.
I wait with more longing
than those on guard duty wait for the morning.

Israel, put your hope in the Lord,
because the Lord's love never fails.
He sets his people completely free.

The psalmist begins by crying out to the Lord. The psalmist is suffering deeply. It seems as if the psalmist has exhausted all that the psalmist knows to do. The only thing that's left is to wait for the Lord's help.

Waiting for the Lord to help - that's called hope. You gotta put it somewhere. The psalmist puts it in the Lord.

Where do you put your hope? Truth be told, more often than I care to admit, I put it first in my own abilities, in what's familiar, in what I know. It's safer that way.

Paul says in Romans 8:24, "Hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has?"

Okay, I have a hard time putting all my stuff where it belongs. I've had this problem since childhood. But I have an even harder time putting what I don't have where it belongs, too. It's just plain hard to put your hope - your future, your dreams, your stuff - in something you can't see.

"Put your hope in the Lord," the psalmist says, "because the Lord's love never fails." Good counsel, isn't it. It's true. If you have any doubts, just read through a few pages of the Bible. The Lord's love hasn't failed me yet. Give it a try.

Being Thirsty in the Middle of the Night

Okay, I'm back. So it's been almost three weeks since I last posted. The pslog goes on, just haven't take time to reflect and record.

It's an ungodly hour of the morning. Well, it's not ungodly. It's actually quite peaceful. I just wish I was asleep like the rest of my family. God knows I'm tired and need the rest. It's just not happening right now. After lying awake, tossing around for the better part of an hour, I decided to get up and do something constructive. So here I am.

There's been plenty to pslog about lately - family vacation, back-to-school preparations, friends visiting from a long ways away. Sure, things have seemed busy. Not exceedingly more so than usual, though. I just haven't taken time to post anything.

And for that, I've felt guilty. Now why in the hell should I feel guilty for not posting? That's plain silliness. No one is expecting me to do this. I started "The Pslog" freely and without coersion. No one's losing money because I haven't posted. No one's health is being adversly affected. Doubt that anyone besides me is even losing sleep over it.

The bar of expectation is completely self-defined. But I still feel guilty. I go through the mental exercise of beating myself up for not being as disciplined as I want to be...or as I was taught that I should be. Then I question whether I have anything worth saying. Does it really matter if I post or not? I've read enough blogs to know that the standard for having something meaningful to say isn't very high at all. The sea of insignificance just sucks me right in.

Okay, I'll admit it. My self-confidence is fragile. Maintaining a healthy self-confidence is where I spend most of my time slogging. Have for years. Haven't admitted it to many folks along the way. That would make me vulnerable and expose my insecurities. Heaven forbid that anyone else knows about my frailty. That might only validate my questions of significance.

It's depressing. No, it's depression. Keeps me awake at night. Makes it hard to do simple, ordinary things. Lose my temper, but only with the people I love the most. Oh, I can put on the happy facade with the best of 'em. But it only masks the sadness that simmers inside.

I can really resonate with Psalm 42.

A deer longs for streams of water.
God, I long for you in the same way.
I am thirsty for God. I am thirsty for the living God.

My spirit is very sad deep down inside me.
You have sent wave upon wave of trouble over me.
It roars down on me like a waterfall.
All of your waves and breakers have rolled over me.

I say to God my Rock,
"Why must I go around in sorrow?
Why am I beaten down?"

My spirit, why are you so sad?
Why are you so upset deep down inside me?

Why I am so damn sad all the time? It doesn't make sense. I have a beautiful wife and three terrific kids. I live in a nice house in a great neighborhood. I come from a loving family, and I have good friends. I really lack for nothing. But the sorrow doesn't cease. It takes all the effort I can muster sometimes to navigate the forest of shame and grandiosity. Yet it seems like I don't make any progress at all. It gets old fast. It pisses me off, and it makes me tired.

I'm thirsty. I need something to quench my parched spirit. I've been so thirsty that I took a drop of the first that seemed to relieve my thirst, but it only left me thirsting for more.

God, I'm thirsty for you, for living water. I don't want to drink something only to be thirsty again. I want you to quench my thirst so that I don't have to keep going back to the well. That's what Jesus did for the Samaritan woman. I'm tired, and I need a drink so that I can rest in you.

Forgetfulness

Forgetfulness is something that really drives me nuts sometimes.

I have a hard time understanding why the people around me can't remember to do the simplest of things. Lately, my son keeps forgetting to turn off the lights in his room and closet before he comes downstairs. Sometimes my youngest daughter forgets to flush when she goes potty (don't be grossed out...it only happens when she goes tinkle...all of you parents can stand in solidarity with this experience...there's no need to question my parenting on this!). Don't tell anyone, but my wife frequently forgets to put the lid on the toothpaste, too.

It's not like I'm asking these dear ones of mine to go out of their way or something. They know how much their forgetfulness irritates me. Heaven knows how many times I've told them.

Truth is, the frailty of their memory is simply a reminder of my own forgetfulness. That's what is so darned irritating. Every day having to face the reality that I have my own shortcomings and idiosyncracies to bear. Ssshhh...don't tell anyone...I think this is still a pretty well-kept secret. NOT!

Forgetting in its simplest form is failing to act. It's not like I consciously think about all of the little things I do every day - turning out the light, flushing the toilet, putting the lid on the toothpaste. Certain actions simply become habit. I do them without thinking.

Psalm 103:1-5 says this,

Praise the LORD, O my soul;
all my inmost being, praise his holy name.

Praise the LORD, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits -

who forgives all your sins
and heals all your diseases,

who redeems your life from the pit
and crowns you with love and compassion,

who satisfies your desires with good things
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.

Praising God is a lifestyle. Sometimes praise is a conscious act, but most of the times praise is simply evident in one's habits, the things one does when one isn't necessarily thinking.

Problem is, sometime I forget. I yell. I gesture. I hang my head. I mope. I push away. I blame.

The psalmist says to praise the Lord and forget not all of God's benefits. Not some of God's benefits. All of them. Don't just hold on to one or two of your favorite. Remember all of God's benefits.

God forgives. God heals. God redeems. God crowns. God satisfies with good things. All this so that we can be renewed and soar.

Now that I think about it, maybe everyone else's forgetfulness - as annoying as it is - reminds me not to forget. Not to forget all of the benefits that God has granted and vested in my life.

Lord, let your benefits be evident in the things I do and say. Let praise become a habit.

Space Pslog

I've always been awed by space travel. I remember as a child watching with wonder the images of Apollo missions on TV. The voice of Walter Cronkite only added to the wonder.

This week, I've once again been glued to the progress of the latest mission of the Space Shuttle Discovery. I think I've actually spent more time watching the NASA channel than I've spent watching ESPN. Frightening.

My three kids and I sat - eating sandwiches - on the floor of my bedroom and watched Discovery launch on Tuesday afternoon. Not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but it was a fun Dad moment. There's just something cool to see your kids captured in a moment of awe and wonder.

I'm captured right there with them. Probably have a little longer attention span, though.

Lift off. A "rendevous pitch maneuver" (technical name for a 360-backflip in outer space). Docking with the International Space Station. Transferring several tons of supplies from the shuttle to the space station with a robotic arm. Preparing for three space walks.

Psalm 19:1-3 says this,

The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they display knowledge.

There is no speech or language
where their voice is not heard.

I can't watch space exploration without recognizing and declaring God's glory. The skies really do declare the work of God's hands.

Nine people - Americans, English, German and Russian - working together with the help of hundreds of others in at least two continents to experience God's glory and pursue knowledge of the outer edges of God's creation. All of this with live audio and video transmission.

Watching all of the maneuvers on TV and listening to the audio transmissions brings outer space right into my home. The vast out there seems like it's right here. Kind of like being in relationship with an omnipresent God who perceives even my thoughts from far away (Psalm 139:2).

No one can deny the risk of space exploration. Those of us who are old enough remeber vivid images of Columbia, Challenger, Apollo 1 and Apollo 13 (even if its Tom Hanks, Kevin Bacon & Ed Harris). In spite of this, space seems so peaceful, doesn't it?

In spite of being hundreds of miles in space, the ISS and Discovery crews in many respects may be the safest nine human beings alive tonight. They'll probably sleep as peacefully as any of us.

It's disheartening to realize that - to a large degree - I've become numb to many of the daily news headlines. In spite of this, today's headlines are enough to cause just a touch of unease - reports that the FBI twarted a terrorist plot agains New York City; moments of silence in London to mark the one year anniversary of terrorist bombings that killed 52 and wounded hundreds; missile testing in North Korea; violence between Israelis and Palestinians in Gaza; oh, and were there any bombings in Iraq today?

I need to get out of the way and realize that the same glory and wonder out there longs to find a home right here. And over there. And there, too.

Let my words pour forth speech and display knowledge of the wonder of God's creation. May all of us discover peace which may seem far away but is really within our reach.

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.