Self-Control

During this Lenten season, I did some fasting. (I realize that by sharing this I may be violating the spirit of Matthew 6:16-18, but I think this is important to share.)

Why did I fast?
Fasting is...
* a way to show God that I love Him more than _________.
* a reminder that "Man does not live on bread alone..."
* a way of identifying with the sufferings of Jesus.
* a chance to say "no" to bodily desires and thus build my Titus 2:11-14 muscles. (If I can learn to say "no" to food when I'm hungry, I can say no to sinful temptations as well. It's a way of practicing self-denial.)
* a reminder that our business here on earth is not just to "eat, drink, and be merry." We, too, have food to eat that too many men know nothing about--to do the will of God (John 4:31-34)
* a reminder to pray (often with a certain focus).
* a means of humbling oneself and relying on God.

I'm sure there are many other reasons to fast, but these come to mind now.

I've fasted before and have been blessed by it. This time, however, it was harder than normal. By the evening of a fast day, I sometimes felt weak or cold.
I was very irritable, overly sensitive, short-tempered, and, at times, downright mean.
Darina's comments about how my fast was adversely affecting the family and about how unspiritual this seemed were right on target. And they stung. This was not the kind of fast the Father desired.

I began to be aware of how physical discomforts affected my moods. Fasting then became an opportunity to work on exhibiting the fruit of the Spirit, even as my body didn't feel like it. While I am sure that my moods affect the way I act all of the time, fasting made me realize this acutely. Praise God that as I prayed for a gentler, more loving, and more self-controlled spirit, I believe He answered me. It seemed (to me at least--I hope my family would agree) that I was nicer on fast days toward the end of Lent.

Today is Good Friday.
And because of fasting, I am now aware of another aspect of the crucifixion that I had never before considered.
Think of how physically taxed Jesus must have been during his last hours. He did not sleep. He did not eat or drink. He was interrogated and falsely accused. He was abandoned. He was mocked and beaten. He bled. He was forced to do physical labor. He was crucified.
Now if I'm irritable and short-tempered after a day without food, imagine how Jesus' mood must have been affected by all of these trials.
I am amazed that he did not sin during this time!

I have always taken the passages concerning Jesus' silence as if He simply had nothing that needed to be said. Today, however, it strikes me that Jesus' silence may well have been His self-control on display. If the tongue is a fire, how easy it would have been to strike that match during the extreme and unjust trials He was undergoing.

But He kept silent. He did not lash out. He did not defend Himself. He did the will of the One who sent Him. He finished His work...without sinning.

This makes me love Jesus even more. This act of faithful, self-controlled silence. In His anger (if indeed He was angry--I think He may have been more sad than angry) He did not sin. What a Savior.

Thank You, Lord, for Your obedience unto death. Thank You for Your love, for Your sacrifice, for Your self-control. May I learn from You. May Your Spirit lead us into Your fulness.
Amen.

Psalm 123

Despite the sequential number of this psalm, this is no "Sesame Street" experience. This is a heavy psalm, full of anguish and honesty. Eugene Peterson's book A Long Obedience in the Same Direction has been very helpful with the other Songs of Ascents, but not this time. Peterson calls this an "instance of service." In my view this is a psalm of desperation.

Here's my translation:

A song of the festival caravans.
To You I lift my eyes--
the One dwelling in the heavens.
Now, just as the eyes of servants on the hand of their masters,
just as the eyes of a maidservant on the hand of her mistress,
in that exact same way are our eyes on the LORD our God
until He is gracious to us.
Be gracious to us, O LORD, be gracious to us,
for we have had more contempt than we can handle.
The derision of those who are at ease and the contempt of the proud
are too much for our soul.

To me this is a desperate cry. Those speaking have been bent to the point of breaking, and they cannot take any more. I really appreciate the honesty of this psalm. Robert Alter translates: 'Grant us grace, LORD, grant us grace, for we are sorely sated with scorn.' It is good to know that other faithful members of God's family have been pushed to the very edge, too. And yet, despite their dire situation, they respond by turning to the LORD. The psalmist lifts His eyes to God. And He who dwells in the heavens is there...as always. He sees all. He knows all.
And so the child of God turns to Him.

In a way, this psalm is an appeal to the character of God. You see the trouble we are in, Lord. You are good. You are able. You love us. Help us! We will not turn away until you do.

Two well known teachers, John Calvin and Charles Spurgeon, comment on this Godward look. Calvin sees this as a look of emancipation. To me, Spurgeon's description is more exact. He sees the psalmist as one who is looking reverently, obediently, attentively, continually, expectantly, singly, submissively, and imploringly.

How many times have you been desperate? Have you responded with such faithfulness? Spurgeon continues:

Blessed are those servants whom their Master shall find so doing. Waiting upon the Lord is a posture suitable for both earth and heaven: it is, indeed, in every place the right and fitting condition for a servant of the Lord. Nor may we leave the posture so long as we are by grace dwellers in the realm of mercy. It is a great mercy to be enabled to wait for mercy.

Nobody wants such mercy. Waiting in desperation is a miserable place to be, but it's somewhere that most of us will probably spend some hard time. The good news is that Jesus has been there...and abides there with us even now. I close with a quote from Amy Carmichael's book His Thoughts Said...His Father Said:

But still the son felt like a long shore on which all the waves of pain of all the world were beating. His Father drew near to him and said, 'There is only one shore long enough for that. Upon My love, that long, long shore, those waves are beating now; but you can be one with Me. And I promise you that there shall be an end, and all tears shall be wiped from off all faces.'

God is faithful. He lives to "grant us grace."

Look to Him.

All Saints' (17) Blaise Pascal

"Knowing God without knowing our own wretchedness makes for pride. Knowing our own wretchedness without knowing God makes for despair.
Knowing Jesus Christ strikes the balance because He shows us both God and our own wretchedness. Jesus is a God whom we can approach without pride and before whom we can humble ourselves without despair."

--Blaise Pascal

The Profundity of Zechariah 12:10

Zechariah 12:10 (NIV) "And I will pour out on the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem a spirit of grace and supplication. They will look on me, the one they have pierced, and they will mourn for him as one mourns for an only child, and grieve bitterly for him as one grieves for a firstborn son."

Maybe this verse has caught your eye. Maybe it hasn’t. I heard someone talk about this verse years ago at a conference in England (Roger Forster is his name—brilliant teacher). He referred to the Hebrew in explaining the verse, and now that I’ve had a bit of training I am finally able to see if what he said checks out.

The startling turn in this verse is the abrupt change from the 1st person (me) to the 3rd person (him) in the middle of the verse. Obviously this is God talking here, but how can we explain:

• How God can be pierced?
• Why would they mourn for “him” if they pierced “me”?
• What’s this business about an “only child” and a “firstborn son”?

I checked out the Hebrew, and though not all translators have rendered it this way (NRSV?), sure enough the change is there. (Here's my translation.)

“They will gaze toward ME, upon the one WHOM they pierced, and they will sound a lament for HIM.”

The cool thing that the teacher pointed out in his lecture that day was that there is a clue as to how the change from ME to HIM occurs. (This is not a grammatical point—only a neat observation.) Between the word that means “towards ME” and the word that means “WHOM” (or “the one WHOM”) stands one little word. It is not translatable. Its function is only to signify that what follows is the direct object.

It is only two letters...but not just any two letters. They are the letters Aleph and Taw, the Hebrew equivalent of Alpha and Omega! The First and the Last!

Could it be that God placed this little, untranslatable word here just for us, so that we could make sense of the verse as we meditated on it? The link between “ME” and “HIM” is God! The Alpha and Omega are present in both.

This insight provides an answer for all the questions above. I’m not claiming this as some scholarly exegetical point, but it sure does light my fire.

Between God and the One Whom they pierced, the Alpha and Omega is found.