Just you wait

In reading Psalm 58 this morning I was reminded of My Fair Lady. Now don’t rush off and read the psalm expecting to be similarly reminded. The connection is not obvious and will need some dot-connecting. The specific memory was of Eliza Doolittle’s both melodic and vitriolic diatribe, “Just you wait.” If you read the psalm now, the connection should be clearer.

Eliza in her anger and frustration at ‘enry ‘iggins, brilliantly and infuriatingly played by Rex Harrison, sings the song:

Just you wait, 'enry 'iggins, just you wait!
You'll be sorry, but your tears'll be to late!
You'll be broke, and I'll have money;
Will I help you? Don't be funny!
Just you wait, 'enry 'iggins, just you wait!

And it continues on. I am particularly fond of this number because it gives voice to my longing to hit Henry Higgins with a big stick.

The psalmist, like Eliza, wishes calamity on the wicked, indeed even more graphically so:

O God, break their teeth in their mouths;
pull the fangs of the young lions, O Lord.
Let them vanish like water that runs off;
let them wither like the trodden grass.

Psalm 58 is imprecatory (from the Latin to pray towards). The prayer here is a negative one and might be better described as a curse. While I might empathize or even sympathize with the sentiments and want to join Eliza in chorus, I remain a little uncomfortable. Jesus did tell us to love our enemies and to do good to those who hate us. It is hard to reconcile this to the imprecations of the 58^th psalm.

There is some value, however, in the words of the psalmist. First they remind us that he is not a pious fraud. Many believers spend a lot of energy lying to themselves and to others with phrases like “I don’t get angry, I just leave it with the Lord.” Or who refuse to even use words like angry and prefer the safer, more acceptable words like “frustrated.” Lying about how we really feel is not helpful. The scriptures do not say “do not be angry”, but rather, “in your anger, do not sin.” (Ephesians 4:26) The psalmist is angry and despises the wicked. That is very clear and it is clearly articulated before God. The problem with the pious fraud is that the anger comes out somewhere. Better it come out in prayer before God than in harsh words or behaviours towards others (including our enemies).

There is also a difference the psalmist’s cry and Eliza’s. Unlike the flower girl of Covent Garden, the psalmist is not making a plan, but rather a prayer. He is praying to God, who is the source of all justice. The psalmist is not planning to DO anything, but is pouring out his desire for justice before God. And we all long for justice. Where we see things amiss. Where there is unfairness or injustice we, quite rightly, long to see it changed. Jesus said, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.”

The imprecatory psalms are gritty, frank prayers to God ultimately for his justice and order in the world. The psalm concludes:

They (the righteous) will say,
Surely there is a reward for the righteous;
surely there is a God who rules the world.

How much farther?

I am a compulsive measurer. This came home to me on a recent bike trip from my home in Vermont to Acadia National Park in Maine. My road bike has a cycle computer which calculates distance, speed and records maximum speed. Knowing the distance we needed to travel each day and the approximate distance to the state park which was our nightly goal. Looking at the small screen I would be noting to myself or to the friend who was cycling with me, "One third of the way!"

Measuring has its benefits and its pitfalls. Besides being careful to measure everything, I am also rather goal-oriented. Here's the benefit to these two things together. At the end of each day when we were within 15 miles of our goal (and fortifying meal) I would get a second wind. Knowing both how far was remaining and that the goal was close gave me a boost. Without having something that measured our progress, I wouldn't really know how close we were and, therefore, no goal-fixated boost.

But trying to measure everything has its dangers. Some things cannot be measured, at least not easily. The Kingdom of God and its grow is notable among these. There are easy things we might measure and indicators: church attendance, turnout to certain events. But how does one measure growth in character, in obedience, in love? These might be observed but cannot be measured. Indeed measuring the growth of the Kingdom in numbers alone can be deceiving - a mile wide and an inch deep. Jesus said the Kingdom is like a mustard seed - tiny, but when it does grow, it becomes a haven for the bird of the air.

The other warning against compulsive measuring is that it tends to fix our attention on what we can do and what we can accomplish. My cycle computer tells me how fast I can go, what I can do. David fell to this temptation in taking a census (2 Samuel 24). At first glance, what is the big deal about measuring the people? Why not try to find out how many there are? But David's census was really to determine what his military might was. He was measuring to see what he could accomplish from a military perspective. David sin here was his trust in his own power and resources rather than God's.

It is a good and helpful thing to know the progress you are making. But neither progress nor our own capacities are gods. "Put not your trust in princes, nor in any son of man" (Psalm 146:3)

Get your own tools

David fastened on his sword over the tunic and tried walking around, because he was not used to them.“I cannot go in these, ” he said to Saul, “because I am not used to them.” So he took them off. -1 Samuel 17:39 (NIV)

I have the privilege of working with a group of lay preachers who share the preaching ministry in our church with me. One or two of them have had teaching and preaching experience before but to most of them (there are six), this has been a new enterprise. The privileges are many, but chiefly the Joy of working with people who want to learn and grow both in the craft of proclamation and in their own lives before God.

When I was still in seminary training, to be a good preacher was a great desire of mine (it still is) and to that end, I was trying hard to imitate the content and style of hood preachers I had heard. I followed, to little success, the advice of my homiletics professor and created a card index of sermon illustrations. It was all very disciplined and orderly and the right things to do - imitate those you wish to emulate and follow the best practices of those who know what they are doing. And it drove me mad.

Enter a pastoral supervisor I had in my last year of seminary. Merv understood that the proclamation of the word is not the following of a formula or set of practices. While talking about sermon preparation, he one day asked me, "How do you usually communicate in conversation?". "I like to tell stories and anecdotes." was my response. He then encouraged me to do just that in my preaching. What is at the heart of preaching is allowing the Word of God to be reflected through the prism of one's unique gifts and person. There is value in imitation and emulation, but I cannot be someone else in the pulpit.

David could not use Saul's armor and weapons. They were not his and he was not used to them. David was successful against Goliath because he had confidence in God (also central in preaching) and because he used the tools he was familiar with, a sling and some stones. Not the things recommended by the experts, but David's preferred and familiar weapons.

As I work with these lay preachers, my goal is not for them to use my tools as they preach the Gospel, but rather that they would discover the power and efficacy of their own.

The festal shout

My daughter got up at 4 am on Saturday to drive with her friend to Boston for the Stanley Cup parade. Arriving early on the parade route, they were in prime position (front row) for observing the celebration. From the pictures and her report it seems to have been a joyful and happy event, notwithstanding police prepared for riots.

While I was not there, I think that I can safely assume that it was noisy. People don’t celebrate publicly in large numbers silently. Add to this fact of human nature the realization that it has been 39 years since the Bruins won the cup and one can imagine that it was very noisy, with much cheering and shouting of happy people. People shout when celebrating big things.

And not just sports championships. In Psalm 89 we read:

Happy (or blessed) are the people who know the festal shout!
they walk, O Lord, in the light of your presence.
They rejoice daily in your Name;
they are jubilant in your righteousness.

Well clearly they are happy, because they are shouting. Either that or the psalmist needs help discerning joy from anger. And festal perhaps deserves some definition. It is the shout associated with a feast, a celebration. The psalmist knows that when we celebrate, we make noise.

What is interesting, however, is the subject of the celebration. The shout is because these people walk in the light of God’s presence. The bruins and their fans were shouting because they possessed a large and heavy trophy, a symbol of their hard work and victory. Those who know THE festal shout yell it out because God himself is their possession. They rejoice daily in his name.

This text, like many others in the bible, makes me ask the question; “Do I really get it yet?” God has given himself as our possession. That’s big and my response is so small.

I’d like to know the festal shout. And the song of the Lamb. That my life may be a feast of thankfulness to the God who is with us.

What have you done for me lately?

A sometime actor and politician from Nova Scotia once wrote a book called, What have you done for me lately?: A politician explains. (out of print, alas) The book is, in essence, a politician’s lament about a fickle public with short memory. This may be a paradigm shift for some, a politician’s lament rather than our lamentations about politicians. Politicians, usually, are not people who garner our sympathy. But having grown up in a political household, I have some appreciation for the shortness of human memory. Indeed, having grown up in my own body, I have the same appreciation.

We are forgetters. Or expressed another way, we are existentialists, all about the present moment and its existence, not historicists, remembering what has been. In the midst of today’s distress, we will have forgotten last week’s joy. Some of us are more inclined to this than others.

The author of psalm 77 perhaps understands this. He is experiencing some distress. “In the day of my trouble, I seek the Lord.” (v.2) And part of his experience is the felt absence of God:

“Will the Lord spurn forever,

and never again be favorable?

Has his steadfast love forever ceased?

Are his promises at an end for all time?

Has God forgotten to be gracious?

Has he in anger shut up his compassion? (vv. 1-9)

In the middle of the existential angst, there is the question, “Where is God?” The psalmist knows how to deal with this, though. He IS an historicist. The second half of the Psalm is the cure for the doubt of the moment. Verse 11 and 12 read like this, “I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes I will remember your wonders of old. I will ponder all your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds.” God’s past action is the best predictor of his future faithfulness.

I am fickle and have a short memory. I am always looking at what is currently problematic and am not naturally inclined to look back at progress or the past faithfulness of God. It took a manager at work to start to teach me on at least an annual basis, to look back and ask, “Where were we a year ago? What progress have we made?”

This can be applied to our professional lives but also our spiritual lives. In my distress, I can choose to recall the past faithfulness of God with thankfulness, instead of lamenting, “What have you done for me lately?”

Feeding and being fed

It is so comforting to read the Bible. Except when it isn’t. There is so much that we read about the love of God, his action for us and his saving power. That’s the comforting part. And then there are the other parts - the ones that challenge us and give us a good dressing down. One of the values of following some systematic system of reading the Bible, such as a lectionary, is that it keeps us from just returning to the comfort and forces us to encounter the challenge. Both are necessary.

For example, I was reading in Hebrews today (from the BCP lectionary) and read this:

About this I have much to say, and it is hard to explain, since you have become dull of hearing. For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you again the basic principles of the oracles of God. You need milk, not solid food. (Hebrews 5:11-12)

Now wouldn’t that go over well coming from the pulpit on a Sunday morning? It is not the sort of thing we usually hear, although there must be circumstances in the 2000 years since the writing of this epistle that something very similar needed to be said.

The heart of the challenge is to grow up spiritually. The author had been writing about Jesus as high priest, offering himself in suffering, learning obedience through that suffering and being made perfect. That is indeed hard to explain to us who are comfort lovers.

Later in chapter 6 he has an image of what these milk-feeders are like:

For the land that has drunk the rain that often falls on it, and produces a crop useful for whose sake it is cultivated, receives a blessing from God. But if it bears thorns and thistles, it is worthless and near to being cursed, and its end is to be burned. (Hebrews 6:7-8)

Very pointed and not very comforting. I have heard the complaint from many a Christian that “I am not being fed.” I wonder what the writer to the Hebrews would have thought of that. Not much, is my guess. By now you should be feeding others, not being fed yourself. You are taking in the rain and producing weeds.

Once, at the end of a long day of Jesus’ teaching before thousands of people, the disciples, likely tired and hungry, suggest to Jesus that he send them away to buy food. And Jesus says, “you give them something to eat.” (Matthew 14:16) They have very little to offer, but Jesus takes it and makes it enough. What is interesting is that the people are filled and satisfied and so are the disciples.

Are you hungry? “By this time you ought to be teachers.” Try feeding others. You might find that you become filled yourself.

God both there and here

Robert Browning once comfortingly penned, “God’s in His heaven - All’s right with the world.” (from Pippa’s Song) It strikes me that he only deals with half of the story.

Today is the feast of the Ascension, forty days after Easter. Always a Thursday because Easter is always a Sunday. On this day we remember that Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, ascended to the Father in heaven. Many of the lectionary texts, especially the appointed Psalm focus on the authority, rule and reign of God –

"For the Lord Most High is to be feared;
he is the great King over all the earth.”" Psalm 47:2

"O Lord, our Lord, how exalted is your Name in all the earth." Psalm 8:1

In the Ascension of Jesus we see the Son returning to the Father to rule and reign with him. God’s in his heaven – All’s right with the world. And that is a comforting thought amid trial and temptation.

But it is only half the story. While he is in his heaven he is here among us. Jesus said to the disciples, “if I do not go away the Helper will not come to you. But if I go I will send him to you.” (John 16:7)

Jesus, just before his ascension promises that he will be with us always. He ascends to the Father and sends us the Holy Spirit so that God’s in His heaven and God’s on his earth. At the feast of the Ascension I am reminded of Jesus’ rule and authority with the Father, his transcendence. I am also reminded of his very real presence with us, his immanence. Both are profoundly comforting

Both of these realities are captured in the Collect for Ascension Day in the Book of Common Prayer:

Almighty God, whose blessed Son our Savior Jesus Christ ascended far above all heavens that he might fill all things: Mercifully give us faith to perceive that, according to his promise, he abides with his Church on earth, even to the end of the ages; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.