“Happy, Happy Trees”

Psalm 1

“Happy is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, nor stand in the way of sinners, nor sit in the seat of scoffers; but he delight in the instruction of the Lord, and on that instruction he meditates day and night.” He shall be like a tree… (Psalm 1:1).

Alexander Pope had another take: 

Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, 

As to be hated needs but to be seen; 

Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, 

We first endure, then pity, then embrace.

Whatever—villainy and vice come easily. All we have to do is follow the crowd. First we take delight in its counsel, then we embrace its behavior, and adopt its cynicism. Inured to goodness we become distracted and heedless, blown about and borne along by every whim and vagary that comes our way.

Or, we can withdraw our roots from world of group-think and travel to the river of God. We can delight in and listen to God’s counsel, think about it and pray it into our souls. 

We can be a “happy, happy trees,” as John Keats would say, full of life and energy, towering over our former selves, verdant, multi–hued, and majestic. “The north cannot undo them, With a sleety whistle through them, Nor frozen thawings glue them, From budding at the prime” (“Happy Insensibility”).

The process begins with “meditation.”

To “meditate” is to “mutter” or speak softly,” with the implication of speaking quietly to one’s soul. It’s what an earlier generation of Christians called “spiritual reading.” 

Spiritual reading involves reading the scriptures slowly, thoughtfully, prayerfully until we’re arrested by a thought. Then “God’s word has come,” the old folks say, “God is speaking his word to me.” 

We can then think about that “word”, what it is, what it means and how we are to be changed by it.

Finally, we can turn our thoughts into prayer and ask God by his spirit to transform our attitudes and actions, for we are helpless to change ourselves. "Only God can make a tree.”

This “snippet” from psalm 1 and others that follow are the products of that practice. They’re not expositions of the psalms, per se, but those times when God spoke his word to me. I offer them to you with the prayer that he will speak to you as well. 

David Roper

9.27.19

The Good Life

There are many who say, “Who will show us some good? Lift up the light of your face upon us, O Lord!” You put more joy in my heart than they have when their grain and wine abound (Psalms 4:6,7).

I watched the Democratic Debate a couple of nights ago—it could just as well been a Republican Debate—and thought of this psalm and the question, "Who will give us the good life?" 

David answers: "Lift up the light of your face upon us, Lord! You put more joy in my heart than they have when their grain and wine abound.” 

Many seek the "good life,” hoping to find joy in prosperity and pleasant circumstances. David's happiness welled up from within and was not dependent on happenstance. He was content with God alone and the love he saw in God's eyes, a “good” far better than wine!

Emily Dickinson wrote:

Ours be the tossing - wild though the sea 
Rather than a Mooring - unshared by Thee. 
Ours be the Cargo - unladen - here 
Rather than the “spicy isles-” 
And Thou - not there.

David Roper
9.15.19

The Cause of Conflict

“The sole cause of wars and revolutions and battles is nothing other than desire.” —Plato

James asks, as we do, why there is so much violence in the world. “Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? You want something but don't get it. You kill and covet, but you cannot have what you want. You quarrel and fight. You do not have, because you do not ask God. When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures. You adulterous people, don't you know that friendship with the world is hatred towards God? Anyone who chooses to be a friend of the world becomes an enemy of God. Or do you think Scripture says without reason that the spirit he caused to live in us envies intensely? But he gives us more grace. That is why Scripture says: "God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble." Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up  (James 4:1-10).

What causes fights and quarrels—border disputes, racial tensions, family squabbles, marital spats, sibling rivalry? Why is there so much discord and dissonance in the world? Why can’t we just get along? James answers his own question: violence occurs  because, “You want something and don’t get it.” 

James swings his axe at the root of the problem—a smothering absorption with ourselves—getting what we want when we want it. Frustrated in the pursuit of our own good we resort to rage and cruel force.

All the conflict in the world stems from “desire,” says James, a Greek word from which we get our word “hedonism.” Hedonism is the notion that only what is pleasant, or has pleasant consequences, is intrinsically good. Taken to its extreme it’s the relentless and ruthless pursuit of personal pleasure without regard for others. 

There are no bad or unlawful pleasures. “Everything God created is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving, because it is consecrated (put to it’s intended use) by the word of God and prayer” (1 Timothy 4: 4, 5). “Pleasures are shafts of glory,” C. S. Lewis states, intimations of God’s goodness and love, serendipitous occasions of his grace. 

Nor is there anything wrong with desiring pleasure or seeking it. Pleasures only become unlawful when they are snatched in the wrong way, or at the wrong time. It is the stealing of a watermelon that is wrong, not the melon.

The trouble comes when the pursuit of pleasure puts us in conflict with another human being similarly inclined. Two people desire a pleasurable thing, but both cannot have it at once. (Two drivers converging on the last parking space at a crowded mall comes to mind.) One or the other is thwarted in his desire, a frustration that can soon escalate into anger, blows and lethal rage. “You want something, but don’t get it, (so) you kill.” (It is a fact that most homicides are not premeditated acts, but “crimes of passion,” as we say, prompted by frustration and deeply regretted after the fact.) The unguarded pursuit of pleasure can lead to terrifying violence. James does well to warn us.

Every evil in the world springs from unrestrained desire. “It is insatiable desires which overturn not only individual men, but whole families, and which even bring down the state. From desires there spring hatred, schisms, discords, seditions and wars,” wrote Cicero, the Roman statesman. 

Philo, Cicero’s Jewish near–contemporary, said much the same: “Is it not because of desire that relations are broken, and natural goodwill changed into desperate enmity, that great and populous countries are desolated by domestic dissensions, and land and sea filled with ever new disasters by naval battles and land campaigns? For wars famous in tragedy…have all flowed from one source—desire for money, or glory or pleasure. Over these things the human race goes mad.” Undisciplined, unrestrained desire is at the root of all that is wrong with our world.

James’ solution is profoundly simple: when you want something and can’t get it—ask God for it. When your need for human love and approval is frustrated—ask God. When your hunger for appreciation and respect is ungratified—ask God. When your desire for peace and quiet is hindered—ask God. When in the pursuit of any pleasure you collide with someone pursuing his or her pleasure, rather than insist that your needs be met—ask God. He is the giver of every good and perfect gift and it delights his heart to give. If our needs are not met, James says, it is simply because we have not asked.

But there is one proviso: we must ask with a submissive will. We cannot dictate the time or terms of our satisfaction. It may be that God will give us what we want, but give it to us later than we would like to have it. It may be that he will not give us what we want at all. He may ask us to forgo the thing we want, but he will give us the satisfaction we are seeking. It’s not the thing we seek that matters anyway—it fades and is forgotten. It’s the joy that accompanies it. Authentic joy is an effect quite apart from any natural cause. 

What this means is that we must give our deepest desires to God and let him satisfy us his way. The alternative—taking matters into our own hands—James calls adultery. It’s an apt metaphor. When we seek satisfaction on our own and apart from God’s love, we are unfaithful to the lover of our souls who longs to satisfy each desire of our heart. 

Furthermore, James continues, such unfaithfulness is “friendship with the world.” It aligns us with the world’s way of doing things—its motivations, methods and moods. Here again is worldliness: the uncompromising pursuit of pleasure, making our good the highest good. It’s nothing more than self–centeredness and pride. Of all interfering things pride is the worst for it keeps us from God and all that he has in mind for us. That’s why he must oppose it and, if necessary, bring us to our knees. Only then can he do good things for us. 

There is, however, an alternative to God’s humbling: we can “humble ourselves.” We can submit to his will—acknowledge his right to give us what we want his way. By so doing we “resist the devil,” who is behind our restless, loveless self–seeking. “And with that  (by drawing near) Apollyon spread forth his dragon wings, and sped him away, that Christian saw him no more” (John Bunyan, The Pilgrim’s Progress). 

We can “draw near to God” in prayer. When we do so he will draw near to us. In his presence we find the satisfaction we crave. 

We must “wash our hands and purify our hearts”—cleanse ourselves from selfish actions and attitudes that defile us and demean others. Self–derived, self–centered pleasure is not a small indiscretion, or a slight impoliteness, but a deadly perversion. We ought to “grieve, mourn and wail” over it. Selfishness is serious sin indeed. 

Then, having humbled ourselves, God will exalt us, lift us higher than we were before. The thing we sought—the thing we thought we must have—is lost in the pure pleasure of God–given delight.

Bernard of Clairvaux wrote long ago, “What will you do if your needs are not met? Will you look to God to meet your needs? God promises that those who seek first the kingdom and his righteousness will have all things added to them. God promises that to those who restrict themselves and give to their neighbor he will give whatever is necessary. Seeking first the kingdom means to prefer to bear the yoke of modesty and restraint rather than allow sin to reign in your mortal body” (from On the Love of God).

Asking God to meet our needs is much better than getting what we want our way, for, as James puts it, God gives a “greater grace” (4:6)—a grace greater than anything we could ever get on our own.

David Roper

9.12.19

Excerpted from my Growing Slowly Wise, Discovery House Publishers

Welcome: Who’s Calling?

Years ago David and I were at a conference where one of the speakers was addressing the misconceptions people hold of God. I still remember the speaker saying that for some the thought is, “If I come to God and follow Him, He’ll say ‘Ah ha! Gotcha! Now spinach three times a day for the rest of your life.’” (Kale was not a biggie back then.)

None of us have a complete picture of the God who calls and welcomes us, for we only see “the edges of His ways.” We may hear and even embrace the fact that God calls us Beloved. But then things happen. 

“There were many years I thought Jesus was the mean coach who told me I had to sit on the bench....and like it!”

Our friend Kathy recently sent a note including the words above. I don’t know what “things” happened, but to me her image was powerful. I get it. 

I think we can feel benched when we lose something precious to us: health—that we or a loved one once relied on, or when we lose a family we had so desired. We might lose the dream we had for a child. This could come if that child dies, or has constant struggles or is walking in a far country. Maybe we lose a ministry opportunity or the results we wanted in a ministry. Perhaps we have a failure of faith or are betrayed, excluded or forgotten. Perhaps we feel stuck in a place we would rather not be. The thing that can cause us to feel “benched” can be anything we have but don’t want, or anything we want but don’t have. Fill in the blank in your life.

But then, on top of the sadness to think that God says “sit….and like it!” Ooooh. That thought can take the heart out of me. Not only am I a loser (because of my losses) but a failure because I don’t “like it.” And worse than that, I become suspicious of this God who calls me to come close when I think He has taken me out of the game I love because I’m not good enough.

I have a dear friend whose school-aged child died. A well-meaning person who was a Bible teacher came to be with my friend. Patting her on the shoulder, the visitor said to the weeping mother, “Don’t cry!” Agony upon agony. More hurt. “Like it!”

The good news from the note we received is that there was more. 

 “There were many years I thought Jesus was the mean coach who told me I had to sit on the bench....and like it! When I learned He was crying with me it changed everything.”

Jesus told us in this world we will have tribulation. It’s a world of great grief, as Aslan said to Digory in The Magician’s Nephew. Digory was feeling very sad because his dear mother was very ill. He asked Aslan to heal her. When he looked into Aslan’s eyes they were bright with tears.*

Jesus weeps with us when we weep. He does as He tells us to do to one another (Romans 12:15). He is not put off by our sorrow. Rather He is touched by the feelings of what hurts us (Hebrews 4). He’s been there too. He wept over the death of his friend Lazarus. He wept over those who would not come to Him and be sheltered and comforted “under His wings.” Jesus wept (John 11:35). And He weeps with us when we weep.

Knowing the tender heart of God towards us in our sufferings can change everything, as it did for our friend Kathy Woodhall.

When Moses asked God to show him His glory (Exodus 33) God said, “I will show you my goodness.” Part of that goodness is that He weeps with us as we walk the road before us. He knows that grief is great in our land. He sees. He cares. He stays with us. Jesus Himself groaned in Gethsemane and walked on to Calvary so that we, too, could share in “the joy set before Him.” This anticipated joy enabled Him to endure the pain of this life, including the final pain of the Cross so that He could bring us Home at last.

Since the welcome of Jesus includes His weeping with us, I want to take Him up on His offer and draw near, even when I am weeping. Especially when I am weeping. As I understand His tender heart I am strengthened as well as comforted on my journey. As I remember His goodness, His tenderness, His weeping with me, I am motivated to trust Him with my losses, with my life, and with my loved one. And to do the next thing He asks me to do.  

“There were many years I thought Jesus was the mean coach who told me I had to sit on the bench....and like it! When I learned He was crying with me it changed everything.”

Lord Jesus, we celebrate and rejoice in Your everlasting love for each of us. We know that our “mourning will be turned to dancing”— either here or certainly There. We count on the joy set before us and we count on Your weeping with us in our losses here and now. Thank You, for Your welcoming heart where we don’t have to pretend a loss doesn’t hurt. Thank You, for the Hope that only You can bring. Thank You for the cost You paid to love us well. Help us to love you back and to show our love for You by loving Your other children the way You love us. Amen

Carolyn Roper

7.22.19

*In The Magician’s Nephew, later in the story, Digory was tempted to not complete the task Aslan had given him. His temptation was to find his own way to heal his mother at the cost of not following Aslan’s instructions. But when Digory remembered Aslan’s tears, he trusted Aslan and did as He had asked. Of course, the outcome was much better than Digory could have expected. The book is a good read…again.

"Through Death and Beyond"

(Tell the next generation) that this is God,

our God forever and ever.

He will guide us forever. —Psalm 48:14

I caught a sequence on Sports Center the other day in which the sportscaster noted that an aging, ailing former-NFL player was "listed as day to day." But then he added an unexpectedly profound philosophical one-liner, "But then again, aren’t we all?"

Indeed. "Out, out, brief candle!”

But here, in this old poem there is a happy surprise: Literally, the text reads "This is God, our God forever and ever. He will lead us beyond dying," i.e., "through death and beyond.” [The Hebrew verb translated “lead” refers to a shepherd’s work. Indeed the Septuagint, the Greek version of the Old Testament, uses poimainei, “he will shepherd us" through the dying process.] 

The love, the joy, the warmth of fellowship that we enjoy each day with our Lord cannot be brought to an end by death. Once we've been joined to the eternal God—our God through Jesus Christ—how can we not be with him and he with us forever? Indeed, when our time comes, he will walk with us through the Valley of the Shadow of Death and beyond—into life everlasting. He will be “our God forever and ever.”

David Roper

7.23.19

A Sabbath Mood

Whatever is foreseen in joy 

Must be lived out from day to day, 

Vision held open in the dark 

By our ten thousand days of work. 

Harvest will fill the barn; for that 

The hand must ache, the face must sweat. 

And yet no leaf or grain is filled 

By work of ours; the field is tilled 

And left to grace. 

That we may reap, 

Great work is done while we’re asleep. 

When we work well, a Sabbath mood 

Rests on our day, and finds it good.

—Wendell Berry

Some years ago I took a liking to Wendell Berry, the old farmer-philosopher whose poetry I find both simple and profound. He often "speaks my mind," as Quakers say. I read his poem "This Day" today and it helped me climb out of a hole. 

To be old and crippled up is a pain—literally—and mornings are the hardest part of the day. Few things work and those that do work hurt and the day beyond looks impossibly hard. The ground is cursed; "The hand must ache, the face must sweat."

But Berry notes a oft-forgotten factor: the joy "foreseen" beyond each day's labor—the joy that comes from knowing that it's not by our efforts that leaf or grain come to fruition, but solely through God's grace. When "the field has been tilled and left to grace," we  will, in due time, reap the harvest of God's labor. "Great work is done while we’re asleep" ("He gives to those he loves while they sleep" 

—Psalm 127:2).

Thus when we "work well" (resting fully on God's grace), there is a "Sabbath mood that rests on our day, and finds it good." And so "though "hand must ache, the face must sweat," this day is a good day after all. 

David Roper

7.17.19

The Liar's Paradox

"One of the Cretans, a prophet of their own, said, 'Cretans are always liars...' This statement is true" (Titus 1:12). 

If you've ever taken a course in logic you've encountered The Liar's Paradox. It appears in many forms, but the simplest way to frame it is to imagine a 3x5 card with a single sentence on each side. On one side you read, "The statement on the other side of this card is true." You flip the card over and read, "The statement on the other side of this card is false." You turn the card over and over until your brain shorts out. 

Paul could have had this paradox in mind (it was known in Aristotle’s time) when he quoted Epimenides, a 6^th or 7^th century B.C.  philosopher who wrote, in a work entitled Cretica that "Cretans always lie..." Since Epimenides was a Cretan and Cretans always lie can we believe Epimenides? Paul resolves the puzzle on this occasion with his terse assessment: "This statement is true." 

There’s a parallel truth found elsewhere in this letter. In the introduction Paul writes of the "hope of eternal life, which God, who never lies (lit: “the un-lying God”) promised before the ages began and at the proper time manifested in his word through the preaching with which I have been entrusted by the command of God our Savior" (Titus 1:2,3). 

Here we have a rock-ribbed, iron-clad, unqualified, unmitigated, unrestricted, unequivocal, no ifs, ands, or buts promise of eternal life to those who have put their trust in Jesus (whom Paul preached). In the crucified, risen, glorified Christ we see the end for which we were made and the certainty that we shall attain it, based on the word of One who cannot lie. 

Jesus made the same assertion, using the strongest negation that the Greek language can supply: “Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never, ever, under any set of circumstances whatever die" (John 11:26). 

So, though we, like Titus, live in a culture of lies we have a promise from One who cannot lie: In Christ we will never die, a calming conviction as we pile up the years. There is a hymn which says, “For he to die is ready / Who living, clings to Thee.” 

And so I write tonight as I "lay me down to sleep.”

If I should die before I wake,

I know the Lord my soul will take.

David Roper

7.11.19