They had a nickname for the place; they called it Massah-Meribah, the place of strife and testing. It was the place where the people of God decided they had been betrayed by God and His spokesman, Moses. It was the place where the people decided they knew more than God. It was the place where God said, “Enough.”

It would take a while for the “enough” to run it’s course, but a seed of rebellion was revealed at Massah-Meribah that would haunt the people until they had all died (except for Joshua and Caleb, but that’s a story for another time). This rebelling generation didn’t make it to the promise land, but died in the desert where they told God over and over that He wasn’t very good at His job, and that they could do it much better (See Exodus 17:1-7 for the riveting details).

In Psalm 95 a passionate appeal is made that people of God not be like those folks of Massah-Meribah but that they be a people who bow down in worship before the Lord their Maker (6). In worship the people proclaimed, “Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation” (2). In worship they said, “Let us come before him with thanksgiving and extol him with music and song” (3).

No rebellion here; no fussing at God because He’s not Johnny-on-the-spot. Rather a proclamation that “The Lord is the great God, the great King above all gods” (3). In the ebb and flow of life the people knew and confessed, “He is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock under his care” (7).

God provided water at Massah-Meribah because that is the kind of God He is. Today He is with us. “Come, let us bow down in worship; let us kneel before the Lord our Maker” (6).

Wondering if anyone might respond to the following statement:

"A social justice that does not call forth repentance in persons is not the social justice revealed in the life and teachings of Jesus Christ."

Any feedback (pro or con) will be appreciated, as I am in an ongoing discussion with several people who wonder about the way the church is choosing to address issues that come under the umbrella of Social Justice. This quote came up the other day, and I really would like some feedback.

Thanks,
Rick

What is hope? How would you define hope? Is it a sense that some how, some way, things will work out for the better? Is it a feeling that no matter how bad things get there will still be a future? Is hope an intellectual activity by which we assess a given situation and conclude, "It's not as bad as it could be"?

An ancient psalm defines hope as a relationship a people has with God. Hope, it seems, is bound to the significant connection people have with the one who is God. It's not about strength or wishing or even dreaming about how things might be better.

Hope is about the integrity of God never to be less that He promised He would be. Hope is about settling down in God's "unfailing love" (Psalm 33:18), with a sure and certain conviction that come what may, God "is our help and our shield" (Ps. 33:20). Hope is coming within the embrace of God, whose arms are open wide, and relaxing our lives in His life, knowing "we can trust in his holy name" (Ps. 33:21).

So, maybe the question is not, "What is hope." Maybe the question is, "In whom do you trust." From the psalmist's perspective the one in whom we trust is no one less than Sovereign God. From His sovereign perspective God looks into the human situation and sees the ways and means of mankind. He is not unaware. In fact, He is sovereignly aware and compassionately present to draw near to all who fear him and who recognize that He is, in fact, at work in the world.

Hope comes from trust, and trust comes from integrity. We do not hope in those we cannot trust. God's name can be trusted, however, and whatever lies ahead we know that we come to it within the embrace of the One whose sovereign love is unfailing. That is hope.

February 10, 2008

Honest introspection and truthful self-awareness I fear, are far from the thinking of many people. These instruments of insight are far too painful and require far too much discipline for the unserious. Ours is a day of self-exaltation, not self-inspection. We want what we want when we want it and the thought of possibly laying aside the dreams we have dreamed for ourselves is simply unthinkable. We have money to make and homes to build and boats to buy, not to mention credit cards to maintain and sights to see.

All this being said we come to king David of ancient Israel. He had it made. He had wealth and a temple and servants. You name it and David had it. He also had lust in his heart, a lust that caught him totally off guard one day. The next thing you know this man who had it all found himself in bed with another man's wife, got her pregnant, and arranged for her husband to come back from war in hopes he would sleep with his wife and that everyone would then conclude the husband was the father. Then everything would be hunky-dory. The plan didn't work so David sent the husband to the front lines in hopes that he would die in battle. This would free the wife to remarry. Then everything would be hunky-dory. This plan worked and the deceit was underway, with everyone but God.

Sometimes God can be so inconvenient, always calling for truthfulness the way He does. This time God sends a prophet into the David's presence and the prophet reveals the sin in David's heart, daring to speak the truth to him.

Here a remarkable thing happens. David receives the truth, chooses not to run from it, and enters into a time of honest and truthful self-inspection. He pleads for forgiveness and even asks that God would cleanse his life.

Suddenly we see a different David. The truth has found him out, and he owns it, prayerfully asking God, "Create in me a pure heart… Restore to me the joy of your salvation" (Ps. 51:10, 12).

May God help us not to run away from truth but to run to it. We, too, are broken and flawed but, like David, we can choose for God. By His grace, we can choose for God. We are under no obligation to choose against God. Let us hear the truth, and be what truth enables us to be.

Sometimes I feel like I’m in over my head in this thing called, following Jesus. I can’t tell you the number of times I think I’ve finally got some things figured out when life throws a mind-blowing curve at me, and I find myself realizing that I’m just a kindergartener finger painting his way through grad school. It’s not a pretty sight.

These feelings come rushing in on me when I see two longings on the part of the apostle Paul that are in such stark contrast to each other that I am left thinking surely he didn’t mean what it looks like he meant. One of them I get because I’m an American. The other one I don’t get because I’m an American.

The one I get is the one where Paul says he longs to know Christ and to share in the power of his resurrection. I get that. Who wouldn’t? To share in the power that is nothing short of resurrection, that’s huge. That puts one on the winning team. That puts one ahead of the pack, dancing in the end zone having made the defense look silly. I get that.

The one I don’t get is the one where Paul says he longs to know “the fellowship of sharing in the sufferings of Christ, becoming like him in his death” (Phil. 3:10). Now wait a minute. Dancing in the end zone because you just blew the defense away is one thing; longing to be creamed by the defense on your way to the end zone, that’s something else. (Please forgive my football fascination but the Super Bowl is coming up).

Resurrection is about power. Suffering is about weakness. And, most of us don’t want much to do with weakness. We’re Americans, my goodness.” We ain’t taken nothing from nobody (pardon my English). Yet Paul says he longs to participate in a fellowship of sharing the sufferings and death of Jesus.

Is it not refreshing to discover a life that is not rooted in self-help and in the need to always win but is rooted in the life of the One who comes into our very real human lives and works the works of God there? Could it be that in the midst of a relationship born of a suffering and a death that we are enabled to face our demons and find the life for which we so desperately seek?

Could it be that our suffering alongside Jesus enables us to better hear the cries of those around us, and causes us to break free from the heresy of always having to win and, instead, find it is grace we need and not just power.