Afterward!

Nevertheless I am continually with You;

You hold me by my right hand.

You will guide me with Your counsel,

And afterward you will receive me into glory. —Psalm 73:23,24

This poem is concerned with the old question: Why do good things happen to bad people? And conversely,why do bad things happen to those that are good? (73:13,14).

Asaph, Israel's poet, was troubled by these questions until he "went into the sanctuary of God." There, in God's presence, he came upon the answer: There's an "end" for every human being—literally an "afterward." The so-called "good life" ends in the grave (73:17-20).  

Asaph continues: "My flesh and my heart will fail" (I too will die), but God is the strength of my life and my portion forever. He is "continually" with me, holding my right hand, guiding me with his counsel, and "afterward" (same word as vs. 17) He will "receive me into glory.” Unlike those who prospered in this life, Asaph had God and he had him now and forever (73:23-26). "Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow!" Who could ask for anything more?

Years ago I heard J.I. Packer telling a story about a don at Oxford University whose colleagues discriminated against him because of his Christian faith. Packer was trying to console him when the man interrupted him: "It's fine," he replied with a twinkle in his eye, "for I have God and they do not." 

Asaph winds his poem down to the same conclusion: 

Whom have I in heaven but you 

and there is nothing on earth that I desire besides You.

My flesh and my heart may fail,

but God is the strength of my heart

and my portion forever...

Thus the nearness of God is my good (73:25-28).

That's only good life worthy of the name .

David Roper

Unnecessary Things

“Satan has the intention of detaining us with unnecessary things and thus keeping us from those that are necessary. Once he has gained an opening in you of a handbreadth, he will force in his whole body together with sacks full of useless questions.” 

—Luther, Instruction from the Saints to the Church in Erfurt (1522)

I’m trying to simplify my life these days, to be more comfortable with things I don’t know and will never know until I get to heaven. 

I find myself more open to mystery and uncertainty; I’m able to embrace more ambiguity. My questions are rarely true or false, but multiple–choice. I believe more ardently now than ever before, but in fewer and fewer things.

There are things I believe with all my heart—the Apostle’s Creed wraps up most of them, I think—but other, more remote aspects of theology that once dominated my thoughts don’t weigh on my mind anymore. Chesterton said that angels fly because they take themselves lightly. I’m trying to learn how to fly. 

The main thing for me now is not to know all the answers, but to know God, made real and personal in Jesus. I find that few things are necessary now, "really only one" (Luke 10:42). 

One of the by–products of this shift is that I no longer have the urge to mold people to my theological presuppositions. I can be more tolerant of those that disagree with me; I can let them be. Just because they don’t agree with me doesn’t mean they’re wrong. 

Another result is that I find myself more open to Christians that are not exactly my kind. It’s with “all the saints” that we know all the dimensions of God’s love, Paul reminds us (Ephesians 3:18). I can learn from all of them. 

Something happened to me some years ago that reinforced my thinking along these lines. I was a student then at the Graduate Theological Union, a consortium of seminaries in Berkeley, California. One of the schools was a seminary in which Jesuit priests are prepared. I took most of my classes there. 

One winter I enrolled in a tutorial with Dr. John Huesman, a Jesuit priest and ranking Hebrew scholar. I expected to learn from Fr. Huesman, but I learned a good deal more than I expected. 

One cold, windy afternoon, we were sitting at the kitchen table in his tiny apartment reading Isaiah 53. As I began to read the text, I looked up into the good doctor’s eyes, saw them glisten and the tears began to flow. He was weeping, not over my translation (which doubtlessly grieved him), but over the truth. 

“David,” I thought to myself, “You’ve read this passage many times, but not once have you wept over the Suffering Servant. You have much to learn from this man.” 

Emerson’s words come to mind: “Every man is in some way my superior.” In that I can learn from him. This is especially true of those whom God considers his intimate friends. I can learn devotion and holiness from them, even if they’re not exactly my kind.

David Roper

Open wide

Psalm 81

I am the LORD your God,

who brought you up out of the land of Egypt.

Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it. —Psalm 81:10

This verse is a direct quote from the preamble to the Ten Commandments: “I am the LORD your God, who brought you up out of Egypt. Thou shalt not; thou shalt not; thou shalt..." (Exodus 20:2).

Here in this psalm, however, where you might expect to find another list of rules, God offers a grace-note: “Open your mouth wide and I will fill it."

Israel's history, like mine, is a tale of underachievement, yet God does not call for greater effort. He rather asks us to lay our "doing" down and receive what He has to offer.

Trying to keep a bunch of rules and make ourselves better is a losing cause. I know because I tried it for years. God alone is the source of goodness for He alone is good.  If we open our mouths wide He will, in his time, fill us with love, joy, peace, patience, and all the other goodness we admire in Him and seek for ourselves. He will feed us with the "finest of the wheat," and satisfy us with "honey from the rock" —sweetness flowing from an unexpected source.(Psalm 81:16).

Weary, working, burdened one,

Wherefore toil you so?

Cease your doing; all was done

Long, long ago. —James Proctor

David Roper
1.26.20

Fortitude

"With God we shall do valiantly; for He it is who will tread down our foes."—Psalm 108:13

As a child I loved The Wizard of Oz and being a timid child was drawn to The Cowardly Lion. In the end, as you know, the lion was given a medal for valor. “Look what it says," he exclaimed, "'COURAGE’. Ain’t it the truth, ain’t it the truth!”

Physical courage is one thing; moral courage is another. Sometimes the hardest battles are fought within. Emily Dickinson wrote, "To fight aloud is very brave, but gallanter, I know, who charge within the bosom, the cavalry of woe..." Fortitude is the name we give to this virtue. 

Fortitude is not simply one of the virtues, it's the virtue that gives strength to all the other virtues. Chastity, honesty, patience, mercy are hard-earned virtues in a world like ours. It's fortitude that enables us to endure. 

Aquinas wrote, ”The principal act of fortitude is endurance, that is, to stand immovable in the midst of dangers.” Fortitude is "a long obedience in the right direction"; it is doing the right thing over the long haul despite the consequences. Fortitude is sticking with a hard marriage; staying in a small place when prominence beckons; refusing to betray a moral principle to get along or to get ahead. We can do these things because God is with us, treading down our foes. 

I think of a scene in C.S. Lewis' The Last Battle: Jill Pole asks, “What do you think is inside the stable?” “Who knows?” Tirian replied.  “Two Calormenes with drawn swords, as likely as not, one on each side of the door... There’s no knowing. But courage, child. We are all between the paws of the true Aslan."

Ain't it the truth! Ain’t it the truth!

David Roper

1.27.20

"But God”

Recently my friend let me know that she and her husband had a great shock. His serious medical condition had a solution— but that solution was not available to them. In her email she said that while fully looking at their situation, their stance now was to live in the truth of “...but God!”
My morning reading in Edges of His Ways, was written by Amy Carmichael a missionary to India, a woman who knew a lot about suffering, uncertainty and impossibilities. She too referred to the phrase “...but God.”  Carmichael mentioned Psalm 73:26. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
I hurried to Psalm 73 and considered the psalmist’s crisis and the process which led to his confident outlook.

When Asaph wrote Psalm 73 there was much going against him and the situation seemed overwhelming. He mused and muttered and then at one point turned to God for understanding. He even brought his “embittered heart” with him as he went to God. 

Folks just weren’t doing what was right and they were on his case. God showed Asaph the end of the matter and what was coming.  God would deal with Asaph’s detractors. God also clarified something else for the psalmist, something that put strength in his soul. Something Asaph must have forgotten until he turned to God.  This “something else” ultimately lead to Asaph’s “...but God” resolve in verse 26. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
After all his musing and muttering the psalmist goes on to say, even with an embitter heart, “Nevertheless I am continually with You” (verse 23).

I had to stop and ask myself where this assurance came from. The writer acknowledges an embittered heart and later a heart that may fail (verse 26). How can an individual with a heart so flawed and failing be assured of God’s help? My question was answered in the next phrase; “Nevertheless I am continually with You. You, God, have taken hold of my right hand. With Your counsel You will guide me, and afterwards receive me with glory.” This truth about God was the “something else” Asaph needed in his crisis.

You have taken hold of my right hand! 

You will guide me and 

afterwards receive me with glory.

What strength in that knowledge, that remembering. As the psalmist turns to Him, God gives reassurance of His part in the predicament which is draining Asaph. It is God who “grasps, guides, glorifies.”  

So often we hear, “Just hold on to God.” Still we know our strength is small and we are losing our grip. Is all lost then? No, no, a thousand times no! God is holding on to the hand of His child. Holding on to my hand and your hand. Such stability is beyond me at times. Such steadiness comes from Another. Hehas (past tense) taken hold of my hand. A hand that is now nail-pierced for my sake, a hand that guides and glorifies.

When I acknowledge and embrace the fact that God is holding me, I can say with the psalmist, “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

Our remembering “...but God...” can lead us to say “But as for me...!”

Psalm 73:28:
“But as for me, the nearness of God (He is holding my hand) is my good; I have made the Lord God my refuge (by turning to Him)
that I may tell of all [His] works.”

Thank You, Lord God, that You are holding on to each of Your children, including us. With anticipation we look to You for our help, as did Asaph, as did Amy Carmichael and as are my friends mentioned above. We come in Jesus’ name. Amen

Carolyn Roper
Each morning I have been listening to a beautiful rendition of a song which encourages me: He Will Hold Me Fast  by Keith and Kristin Getty. May it encourage you also.

https://www.bing.com/search?q=he+will+hold+me+fast+youtube&qs=HS&pq=he+will+hold+me+fast&sc=8-20&cvid=1AF19B86D4C4408897ED0BD48A344944&FORM=QBLH&sp=1

He Will Hold Me Fast

(Lyrics)

When I fear my faith will fail, Christ will hold me fast;
When the tempter would prevail, He will hold me fast.
I could never keep my hold through life's fearful path;
For my love is often cold; He must hold me fast.

He will hold me fast, He will hold me fast;
For my Saviour loves me so, He will hold me fast.

Those He saves are His delight, Christ will hold me fast;
Precious in his holy sight, He will hold me fast.
He'll not let my soul be lost; His promises shall last;
Bought by Him at such a cost, He will hold me fast.

For my life He bled and died, Christ will hold me fast;
Justice has been satisfied; He will hold me fast.
Raised with Him to endless life, He will hold me fast
‘Till our faith is turned to sight, When He comes at last!

The Last Enemy

Psalm 48

 

“Surely, this God is our God forever and ever. He will guide us through death” (Psalm 48:14).

 

Psalm 48 is a national anthem praising Jerusalem, the capitol city. It represent the congregation of God’s people wherever they may be. 

Jerusalem was a safe place, isolated on a mountain plateau, protected on three sides by steep ravines, enclosed and guarded by massive towers and ramparts.

 

But the strength of the city and it's surest defense was God. He was was “in the city” (48:1). 

 

San Francisco is known for her Bay and bridges; Seattle for her Sound. Jerusalem was known for the fact that God was there. When Israel’s enemies saw him in residence they were shattered! (Psalm 48:4-7).

 

But the psalm ends on an unexpected note. The poet invites us to tour the city and take note of her strength and to “tell the next generation the story of God” (48:12,13).

 

And what is "the story of God"? "Surely, this God is our God forever and ever. He will lead us through death and beyond” (48:14).

 

What a strange conclusion to an otherwise straightforward poem about Jerusalem. But not when we understand the poet's train of thought: God dwells within the city to destroy all her enemies: “The  last enemy to be destroyed is death” (1Corinthians 15:26). When death comes for us God himself will be at our side to meet it, crush it and bring us safely through.  

 

“Poor death,” John Donne mused. “Thou shalt die!”

 

The Business of Love

“You yourselves know how I was with you the whole time from the first day that I set foot in Asia" (Acts 20:18),

Off and on through the years I've dipped into George Herbert’s book on ministry, The Country Parson. It’s a wonderful work, full of practical wisdom, part of the Classics of Western Spirituality Library by Paulist Press.

I read this morning, “The Country Parson is a lover of old customs, if they be good, and harmless; and the rather, because Country people are much addicted to them, so that to favor them therein is to win their hearts, and to oppose them therein is to deject them. If there be any ill in the custom, that may be severed from the good, he pares the apple, and gives them the clean to feed on."

Then Herbert comments, by way of example, on an old custom among country people, namely walking in procession around their fields invoking God’s blessing on their crops. (Apparently some parish priests were disdainful of the practice.) Herbert cites four ”manifest advantages,“ to going along with the custom, chief among them is the love shown in ”walking and accompanying one another.“ 

Herbert continues: ”The country parson, far from condemning such assemblies procures (brings about or effects) them often, knowing that absence breeds strangeness, but presence love. Now Love is his business and aim.”

I think of Dick Langford—the Young Life leader that won my heart when I was in high school—showing up day after day on the school grounds and practice fields, attending our games, present in places we gathered. I marveled that Dick would hang with a bunch of high school kids. 

Now I know that his business and aim was love. 

David Roper