Krissi

This is a specific promise made to Joshua after the death of Moses. God encouraged Joshua by telling him that whatever He had done for Moses, He would do also for Joshua: “As I was with Moses, so I will be with thee.” Since Moses had been led by God, then so would Joshua be led. In an earlier passage, God had already reassured Joshua that He would be treating him as He had treated Moses: “… just as I spoke to Moses.” God is making it clear that Joshua is Moses’ successor. The question I have regarding this verse is this: Can I assume that a promise given to an Israelite military leader more than 3000-3500 years ago at a crucial juncture in Israel’s history applies to me today? Yes, I believe God is with me always. I believe this based on the witness of the entire Bible as well as “feel” it in my soul. But I don’t feel comfortable taking this verse as “proof”. I can learn about God from Joshua’s story, or at least how Joshua and God interacted, but will this be the same as how God interacts with me? Are there times when God withdraws? Yes. “They will go with their flocks and herds to seek the Lord but will not find Him; He has withdrawn from them.” Hosea 5.6 Many Christians have noticed that in their darkest of hours, when things seem desperate and bleak, God often feels far away. Only in retrospect do they see He was there. God pulls away from our hearts -- in my experience -- when He wants a Christian to grow spiritually in preparation for the next assignment. The times when God seems distant elicit from us a tough and stubborn assertion that God really is around, though there is no evidence of this in one's heart or circumstances. Faith persists when there is no reason/explanation for such sureness. It's not about my feelings or experience. It's about Him and what I rationally and coldly think of Him when my heart isn't following along. Thus, I believe God is with me even when my life is crumbling and He does not make Himself present to my consciousness. -- Exodus 17 has a story of Moses striking a rock with a stick which caused water to flow out of it. Israelites had tested the Lord by asking Him, “Is the Lord with us or not?” They asked because they weren’t sure. They weren’t sure God was with them. They needed the miracle of water to be reassured. We have the Spirit within us and even when gagged and silent, that Spirit is there ... God is with us. We don't need or shouldn't require miracles as "proof." This is an inadequate answer to Pastor Ralph's questions.

I'm not sure I can explain this, but it seems as if there are promises or goals in the bible that 1) must be earned, 2) passively waited for, and 3) can't be earned so are bestowed gratis by God Himself. In Joshua's case, he had to "put his foot" on the blessing he wanted. He had to earn it. Suffer for it. Fight. A conditional promise -- "If you ____, then I (God) will _____" -- is one that has to be earned. You have to do your part before God rewards you. The difficult aspect of these three sorts of blessings -- earned, waited for, bestowed -- is knowing which sort of blessing God is offering you. If you try to earn a blessing that God wants to give you freely, you'll be spinning your wheels endlessly, getting nowhere and becoming frustrated. It can be difficult to know when to fight and when God is showing you to wait. If you refuse to work for a blessing that God has for you to earn, then you nullify that blessing because of your own inaction. Haven not pursued something God wanted you to have, because you didn't understand what He was asking of you or just refused to do it, is a very sad position to be in once realized. The real problem, then, is knowing what sort of promise God is giving -- earned, waited for or bestowed. Note this verse: Ask and it will be given to you Seek and you will find. Those are the options. You passively ask and perhaps wait or you seek. The blessing is either given or found/earned. One of my long-desired prayers seems to have stages, some of which involve a lot of labour and sweat (not physical) on my part. I'm sorta earning my right to stand on the platform where the duties and responsibilities of blessing are told to me ... long before the blessing is given. Honestly, it's difficult to wait and wait as well as work and work without seeing fruit, but I know I'm in the right spot so am carrying on.

Yes, I bless and praise God during my morning devotions and throughout the day. I find that my thoughts have become prayers ... it's difficult to discern where prayer leaves off and thought begins. So, to praise God is to think in a way in which God is an assumption ... a given, unnoticed, perhaps, but foundational, like breathing air. Eventually, He may even dominate my thoughts as happened in the mind of medieval mystics and monks. They believed worship could be constant. To bless or praise God in thought, then, is to have an attitude of optimism and thankfulness. It could be a consequence of recalling things He has done. But, often, this attitude is deeply buried in my mind so that praise erupts unexpectedly during my mundane days or right or soon after hearing of an event or happening. I need to praise God more. For many years, my prayers were mostly begging because needs were so overwhelming. As my life is now settling down into a more normal pattern, praise and thankfulness are sincere and spontaneous. I just need more! This is something I pray about, not set my mind to do. The Spirit initiates praise, the sort of praise that percolates upward from within. It is possible, and perhaps usual, to have praise be a box on the list to be checked off, self-motivated praise, that is, but I don't think that level of sincerity is as great as when it percolates up and outward from an uncontrived and free source. Related is my need to regard mundane events as blessings. As I wait for "big" answers to prayer, I tend to disregard the daily sustenance and wee answers He gives. This is ungratefulness. -- I wanted to touch on the idea of kinetic worship, that is worshipping with one's body. Raising hands in prayer seems natural, but I don't know why. God feels up so I reach upward toward Him, but obviously He is omnipresent so such reaching is rather nonsensical. But often, too, I hang my head and look downward, if my eyes are open. I want to focus on Him when among others and visually blocking them out is the only way I can do it. Corporate praise is just not something I can do. In some charismatic churches, worshippers "spiritually dance" during times of worship. I find it distracting and shut my eyes. If one is able to dance (or yell or clap or pass out or laugh or whatever) without self-consciousness, without feeling coerced, without sideways glances to make certain that others approve ... then, it's probably a true(r) form of worship. -- Thank you, dear Pastor Ralph, for another great series of lessons. Please make more!

I like the image of oil being poured over Aaron's head -- why Aaron? -- flowing into his beard, dripping off each hair, covering his shirt. Some misses his beard and fills his hair and soaks into his collar. That must have felt strange. As Pastor Ralph wrote, the image is that of excess or extravagance. Too, perhaps, it is an image of safety, of being enveloped by an oil ... swimming in it, so to speak. Unity should not be a goal for Christians. Instead, we should pursue our vertical relationship with Him and allow horizontal relationships to take whatever form He permits. In the world (and church) unity devolves into uniformity. It's coerced and oppressive. In the spiritual world, or the ideal one, unity creates differentiation. It's freeing. One strength of Protestant denominations and churches is the tendency to split when differences become untenable. This is a sign of spiritual maturity, not weakness or immaturity. Churches or denominations that coerce uniformity tend to wither and die. For example, in the West, oldline denominations are dying as the Protestant fringe, the charismatic and apostolic/prophetic churches, are thriving. I write this as an Anglican, a state-supported denomination that has almost died out in England but is growing in places where, long ago, still faith-filled Anglicans ministered and witnessed. I love the order and liturgy of the Anglican church but recognize that spiritually, it's running on fumes. The chief obstacle to love in my life? Probably the most obvious obstacle is my intense shyness/introversion and a tendency to observe rather than participate. Secondarily, I think differently than most people so have developed an elaborate ruse of hiding what I'm really thinking. My shell is thick. People think I'm more sophisticated than I am and tend to back away. Writing anonymously on this forum has been one of the most revelatory acts of my life. Sad, huh?

David covenant: God will never let David’s genetic line disappear. Though his sons, grandsons and all the “grands” afterward will stray and be beaten, in this, God’s love is shown. The “throne” will never go to other families but stay within the Davidic line. Solomon was David’s son, so this prophecy/promise was fulfilled in that generation. After Solomon, the promise is conditional: IF your sons keep my covenant and my testimonies I teach them, THEN their sons will also sit forever on the throne. The “horn” is almost always interpreted as referring prophetically to Jesus, but in this context, it appears to refer to Solomon, not Jesus. Pastor Ralph writes that the core of the psalm is a prayer for the one currently reigning on David’s throne – Solomon. Perhaps the reason why we think it refers to Jesus (as well as Solomon) is the “forever” word in v12? If the Davidic line rules forever, this promise must be a metaphoric because there were hundreds/thousands of years without a temple or throne on which to rule. Jesus’ coming “reign” was spiritual. Today, He reigns in our hearts. One interpretation of the second coming is that Jesus’ reign, now spiritual, will morph into a political rule, that in the end, He will rule all the earth as a perfect and holy dictator. Since David is a distant relative of David, Jesus’ future earthly reign may be seen as fulfilling the “forever” part of the promise given to Solomon.

This is the age of Wikipedia. When I want to know something, I find my cellphone or sit before my desktop and look it up – instant information! But in the Christian life, this rarely works. Though I turn to God for answers, seeking diligently, He generally responds with silence. I call it “His divine pause.” That interminable pause. As the years have passed without answers or guidance, that pause has become the “new normal.” I have adjusted to His silence rather than expect answers. This is not humility – it’s failure. It’s a failure to pray correctly, or to get rid of the sins/encumbrances that prevent me from reaching Him. It is a failure to connect with God, to be the daughter He wants to talk to. My prayers are like arrows shot into the sky that neither fall back to earth nor reach their target. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. When the psalmist says he doesn’t occupy himself with thoughts that are too great or marvelous, he may be admitting that though he had tried to find answers he had failed, so stopped asking. When he doesn’t ask, he can he be calm and quiet in his soul. This is resignation more than calmness. Perhaps submission. It’s a quiet wrestling in prayer so it is not hopelessness. When a person is hopeless, he or she no longer wrestles. I don’t expect Him to reach down to me, as in the iconic fresco by Michelangelo on the ceiling of the Sistine chapel in which God’s finger touches Adam’s. That painting is called “Creation” not “Communication.” God’s touch creates. But creation is also a “speech act.” It’s God speaking out – His words, His logos. God spoke the universe into existence. He did it with words. Words = touch. Amazingly, Adam had a part in that scene, when he reached toward God … he stretched out his arm as if to touch God so ever lightly, like the bleeding woman who crawled to Jesus to touch his cloak. His touch included her answer. God’s silence has been the biggest challenge in my Christian life. It has forced me to think more deeply and read more widely, to look at circumstances for answers, to be observant and … very, very quiet. I wonder, now, if He has answered my prayers in touch, in the circumstances that crowd my life and force it down a certain path. If so, maybe touch is His answer.

One of many problems I have – can’t figure it out – is determining when the Bible is talking to/about/for 1) an individual of any era – to me!, 2) a specific person who had lived long ago, 3) a group that lived long ago – Israel, for example, 4) a group/nation that exists now or in the future, 5) all humanity at all times. Many biblical verses which are specific to a person, event or era are interpreted as if written for ourselves, today. This psalm is an example of this. Who is it directed to? It was obviously written a long time ago in a particular circumstance, yet so many Christians, myself included, read it as if we can legitimately “claim” those words for ourselves, as if God speaking in history is the same as speaking right how, and what He says to a particular group can be thought of as speaking to me. I don’t know how to handle the switch from the first-person to Israel; do I read the latter part of this psalm as if it were a continuation of the first part? Why did the writer of this psalm switch from “I” to “Israel?” I know this is really basic stuff … sorry. If I were the psalmist, I’d write the last stanza like this: I hope in the Lord. For with the Lord there is steadfast love, And with Him is plentiful redemption He will redeem me from all my sins. This is how I interpret it, after all. I read it as if it were written to me. Note that Pastor Ralph, in both his description and questions, flipped back and forth between the first-plural and second-person. This reflects his pastoral way of looking at things, thinking in terms of church or flock as well as the individuals within, or, better put, trying to foster a sense of community and oneness in the church via first-plural speech. In my little mind, there is no group salvation or forgiveness. Yes, I know it’s in the bible, particularly in the OT, and there’s always a tension between the individual and the collective. I know that entire families came to the Lord at once in the NT, but that seems the exception, not the rule, though I’m not sure about this. Culturally conditioned? So, to answer your questions, knowing God forgives changes how I look at MY life, but not “our” lives. It impacts my faith, not a collective faith. It does move me to be more tolerant of others because I see/feel the depths of sin in myself --it’s hard to condemn others when sinful, too. Expectancy level/hope/faith … these are personalized in the questions. Yes, forgiveness creates in me a hope that God will be merciful and take pity on me. Forgiveness seems like an expression of His love and hope is always future-looking, in this case, the psalmist hopes that God will continue to forgive … grace upon grace.

Yes, God has delivered me from affliction as well as the cords of the wicked. Many times, in fact. I am dealing with bitterness now because my “afflictions” and “cords” are quite recent. When I recall certain individuals and events, I immediately give these memories/thoughts to God. I do so by reminding God, in prayer, that I don’t want to recall, remember or think of this again, and then ask Him – beg Him, actually – to please, please remove these memories from my mind. To set me free. Slowly, this bitterness is dissipating by His grace. But it takes time. It is a form of deliverance. I’m praying that He restore the years the “locusts have eaten.” God can restore time lost, if He so chooses. He can make the rest of life full and joyful, if He so chooses. He can cram a lot of living into the years left to make up for the years that have been taken … if He so chooses. I don’t know the mind of God. I don’t know what He may choose. He may take me to heaven tomorrow. That could be His choice. He may make the rest of my life small and miserable as a character-building exercise. That, too, could be His choice. Or, he could be merciful and deliver me, answer my heart-felt prayers and let me experience joy, again. I don’t get to tell God how to answer my prayers. I just pray. I pray for His mercy, that He takes pity on me … even though, in the past, He let me be harmed. An all-powerful God is responsible for what happens. He is responsible for what could have been prevented and what He allowed to slip through. He is stronger than evil, than Satan. With an odd twist, I hear these lyrics in my mind, “He is worthy.” I struggle to forgive -- events are quite recent. Quite honestly, I’ve prayed also a lot of imprecatory prayers. I feel no shame – before Him – in doing so, though I know you, fellow poster, may feel differently. So be it. God has heard my cries for justice and will avenge me in His way. The hard part is believing (against the evidence) that God really will exact justice and “right wrongs.” Frankly, I want to see justice before I die, not in the next life. This is a far cry from “blessing” my enemies, as Jesus demands. Both sorts of prayers are in the bible. They’re held in tension and may be situationally appropriate. I really don't know. I feel, though, that I can rightfully cry for justice … and I can humbly ask for our enemies to be blessed. Both. -- The idea of progressive revelation, mentioned by Pastor Ralph, stresses the more recent parts of the Bible over it's more ancient texts: the gospel story of Jesus is more important than the stories of Moses or Joshua. But God’s character did not change from the beginning to the end of the Bible. He revealed Himself then as He does now. Thus, I don't believe the NT overwrites the OT. If revelation is ongoing, we can’t arbitrarily stop it where we’d like it to end, at the writing of the NT. Still, it is true, the canon has closed. Honestly, I have no idea how the testaments relate and what to do with the obvious flow of history/time in the bible. How do we handle personal revelation. God has not stopped revealing Himself. This doesn't make His revelation progressive for “rhema” is not “logos”– there are degrees of sure-footedness in His revelation which is why it may not be right to think of it as progressive, but rather as incomplete or poorly understood. Every Christian’s life should be spent knowing God better (getting more revelation or understanding). What we know of Him progresses only in the sense that it expands or deepens during our lifetime. At death, our relational-knowledge of Him dies with us. Thus, every Christian starts anew. We don’t stand on each other’s shoulders in some sort of additive, social sense, but stand alone, as individuals, before Him. There's less progress, that is, than continual fresh starts. Lately, I’ve been reading about Russian history and the Orthodox branch of Christianity. Marx (and Hegel before him) was a huge proponent of progressive revelation in history, as well as a proponent of the idea that a synthesis of forces and events propel individuals/society toward some sort of telos (which Marx never well explains). This is the secular version of progressive revelation to which most leftists, today, subscribe. The idea of progress is very Western and European. It's quite localized in space and time. Note that the Eastern branch of Christianity has almost no concept of progress.

Perhaps "fear" means fear -- we are to be afraid of God as we would be afraid of a powerful or incomprehensible ruler. I can't read Hebrew, but in Greek, is σεβασμός the same as φόβος? I understand the desire to soften God's transcendence-justice-judgment as well as the desire to limit God to being a loving father. Yet, I fear God, not just respect Him. I fear what He could do to this world and though He promised there would never be another flood to kill every living thing on earth, I can't help thinking that at one point in human history, He wiped us all out. Except Noah and family. The Jews were taken into captivity when their sins rose to the level of angering God. The thousands of martyrs ... the brutal death of the apostles ... unanswered prayers for healing and the cessation of pain. Etc. So, God is both loving and angry. He both judges and forgives. Yes, Jesus' death wipes away sins but then we sin again and these present sins anger God. Thus, I fear Him. There seems to be a two strain of thought that explain our purpose on earth. First, some believe Christians are created to be perfected or become more like Him. Secondly, there is another strain of thought that suggests we are here for a specific purpose, that our calling/deeds/actions explain our existence. Either way, struggles and evil surround and invade every Christian. Rubbing up against evil/sin -- both within and without -- develop our character as well as create obstacles to meeting the action-goal or calling He has for us. -- I wish I was able to say that the blessings of life are punctuated by short periods of suffering ... and not the other way around. Maybe I'm in the thick of it now and can't see the good around the corner? Don't know. It's been too long to believe this. For some Christians, life IS suffering, with occasional and rare breakthroughs of joy. And, this seems to be God's will. -- Prosperity, for me, has very little to do with money or stuff, though the Bible clearly rewards some people in this way. I have had three prayers, long standing; only one of them has some sort of price tag attached to it. To these I've added related prayers. Sadly, the fact is that these three main prayers (which could be defined as prosperity), have not been answered. I grieve that God does not bless me, or does not bless me in ways that "feel" like a blessing. Prosperity is living a big, full and meaningful life. It's challenge, love, and a distinct and known calling. An isolated stone cottage full of art and ten thousand books, built by a gurgling, lovely stream would be nice, though ...

Another set of thought-making questions! Most of us know how to work hard, to set goals and subgoals and then achieve them. What we don’t know, or at least don’t balance well, is the trust v. work ratio. Thank you for helping me think of work as balanced by trust. I wish I had known this years ago. Human effort is NOT vanity, however, because, on average, work reaps reward. When secular people work hard it shows – there’s a direct correlation between smart laboring and achievement. This applies to Christians as well. Yes, it is true that not all effort has the desired outcome but, still, most of the time effort “pays off.” Thus, the consequences of labor are not illusory – they are real. Our work actually creates stuff … ideas, houses, children, books, art, diagrams … whatever. These things don’t magically appear. We make them. We labor for them. Our work also creates the dull, unnoticed background that the more interesting stuff needs to stand out. Work seems to be divided into that which is drudgery and that which gives satisfaction. Perhaps the first take-away from this psalm is that the sorts of achievement that comes from endless grinding – in the end – are not ultimately satisfying. To be satisfying, the work in itself has to be satisfying. Perhaps this explains why there’s can be an emptiness to achievements that are “earned’ without submitting to God. It’s not working hard that’s at issue here, but the potential meaningfulness and pointedness of that work dedicated to God. A second take-away from this psalm is related to the first, that meaningful work is done in alignment with His will. All work becomes drudgery unless directed by God, according to His will. His specific will. He will direct our labor which means we have to submit to what He tells us to do. Most of the time, at least in my life, He dictates His will through circumstances. This is a wordy way of saying that God calls us to do both specific and mundane. We must strive for our specific calling, both to know and do it. A third take-away is that most work really is mundane and meaningless and there’s no reason to pretend it’s something it’s not, or to dignify it as part of His calling. Moments of meaningfulness puncture through years of mundane work. I think of all the dishes I’ve washed over the years, the wasted time that did nothing to further His kingdom. Clean dishes have nothing to do with my calling (I hope). But they still must be done. That’s the rub, isn’t it? Most of our work isn’t directed by God … it doesn’t further the kingdom … no one is brought to know Christ through it … and it’s not enjoyable or meaningful. It’s pure drudgery. It’s a burden. Our attitude toward it may make the hours go faster, but there’s nothing about monotonous, dull work that does anything but create a background on which the rare moments of His calling can be painted. Drudgery is like gessoing a canvas – making a strong, white barrier on which the artist paints. The worthy part of the painting isn’t the gesso but the art itself – the artist gives art meaning, color, design, finesse and skill. But before he or she can paint, the canvas must be “sized” with gesso. In life-speak this means that preparatory work must be done. Only after years of preparation, In His slow time, will the artistic impulse on top of the gesso be known. I’m almost childlike in my belief/trust that I’ll have enough which may come from having my needs always met. When I became a Christian, that trust in provision seamlessly transferred to God. But that was not all that transferred. I also handed to God my angst over living a meaningless, empty life. Even today, I desperately want to know His will … not just His “little wills” for the day, but the large and overarching calling that eludes me. I need more trust that He will make my labor and life “big”/meaningful … not mundane/meaningless.

These are good questions to which I cannot give good answers. I don’t know why God doesn’t do miracles when we need them, or want them, but lets us suffer as we wonder if He’s going to help us … or not. Three generations were enslaved in Babylon, not just those of the first generation who were deeply sinful. Innocent children were born in Babylon … some died never knowing any other life. Why did God wait for so long? Why did He permit some people to suffer and die, and others to experience the joy of release if God was capable of doing such a miracle a few decades earlier? The standard answer is that He had to wait until all those who had known their prior life Israel had died. But why? Wasn’t sincere repentance possible? An answer inserted in the questions Pastor Ralph asks is this: “patient obedience (was necessary) for “the success of our labors and our own spiritual maturity.” Okay, I can see this but couldn’t God speed up maturity so all could experience the joy of release? Some Christians do mature quickly, after all; others seem born saintly. Perhaps some would never mature and had to be eliminated? We cannot shout for joy because we don’t know if we’re the ones who are born and die in captivity, or if we’re the ones who get to experience the joy of release … the restoration of fortunes. We simply don’t know. If we shout for joy, we’re shouting in hope and anticipation, not sure-footed faith. We’re hoping that the odds are in our favor, that we “win” the divine lottery of restoration. From my wee perspective, we reach a point at which we succumb to the pain and evil of life, giving in because we have this gut-level sense that somehow this is part of His divine puzzle/plan; we assert that God is good in the spite of evidence to the contrary as we struggle to really mean it, to be sincere and truthful. I think that’s the crux of faith. Faith is believing in spite of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. God is not rational. He does not fit into our categories of “good” and “powerful.” And yet, we have these categories. So we must sense, perhaps by the agency of the Holy Spirit, what goodness really means and how He is good, though He makes us suffer so much. Here’s an anecdote. “That day, I cried like never before,” says Pastor Zachariah, a Christian in Nigeria whose wife and children were killed in an attack from Fulani militants. “It was on that day I knew that death was truly painful. … When I saw her [my wife’s] body, I remembered the life I lived with her,” Pastor Zachariah says. “We went out preaching together in the northeastern region, we opened churches together. We did everything together; we walked hand in hand with each other, we did not have any problems. Honestly when this attack took place I felt as if God had forsaken me, because I said, ‘If God is in control, why would He allow these people to cause this kind of attack on us? Where is He that He will not take charge of the situation? He has the power to kill them but decides not to.’ … The reason I give thanks is because God knows everything, He allowed them [my family] to go because it was their time, God decided to call them home,” Pastor Zachariah says. “For those who have found themselves in similar situations with that which we have experienced, my prayer is that we should rely on God because He is everything we live for. If we turn our attention away from God, we will see Him as someone who cannot help us, but if we believe He can do all things, then we will not be broken.” To sum, I, personally, cannot shout for joy, but I am able, on occasion, to succumb to the mystery of suffering as His will. I can submit to violence/death not because I understand God or His character, but precisely because I don’t understand Him but still make space to hope; I hope that in spite of the evidence, in spite of what I see and feel, He is sovereign and loving. Both.

This psalm teaches us that if our trust in Him is strong (enough?) we cannot be moved (lose our faith?) but will abide forever in His steadfast love. When I read psalms like this I wonder if I’ve done enough or am good enough to claim these promises. Only those who are “good” and “upright” does God do good to – I worry that am I good enough. Upright enough. My sins, though rather small these days, are not insignificant to God. Yes, the blood of Christ covers sin and makes me as white as snow, but God still looks down on me and sees me as I am. The idea that Christ’s blood somehow blinds God to the truth or reality doesn’t make sense. This week I’m reading on Russia in its imperial days (1800s to 1917) and have been struck not so much by their unrighteous rulers but by the sheer number of weak-minded and morally “challenged” ones. The fall of Russia to communism in 1917 seems to be a likely consequence of weak-minded and weak-“moralled” rulers. In our contemporary era, rulers of Western countries are mostly unrighteous though there are a few honorable ones left – Victor Orban of Hungary comes to mind. If we held these Western rulers to the Biblical standard of righteousness, they wouldn’t have an clue as to what we were talking about. The Christian ethic and mentality has been so erased from their consciousness that they no longer understand it. It is simply that case that American/European rulers, today, are decidedly secular. So, can a secular ruler be honorable? It’s rare, but “yes.” When a person gives up faith, often a residual ethic remains, one based on the faith of dead fathers/forebears that the secular ruler has subconsciously adopted. Thus, those who are fewer than one or two generation removed from faith can still have the remnants of honorable behavior. Not only is government taken in it’s typical collective meaning, but Pastor Ralph also personalizes righteousness and unrighteousness – we are governed within. But, is this right? Doesn't the Holy Spirit governs us? Perhaps we don’t govern ourselves, as Christians, for our goal is to submit to His governance. It’s a lifelong struggle which is why I worry about being far enough along the path of sanctification to "merit" His blessing.

All of us, even the most secular and godless, have had close calls. Most secular people attribute their “salvation” to luck – most Christian people attribute their deliverance to God. So, does God protect unbelievers too? I wonder. And, I wonder if some of our experiences were luck not God. I can’t explain His undeserved love because I’m not sure when He is loving me and when I just beat the odds. I have not had any giant angel unloose the shackles in prison, for example, which obviously would be from God. Everything that’s happened to me can be seen though either a secular or Christian lens. It’s provenance is ambiguous, that is. When I hear people say they’ve seen angels or great miracles, I marvel and wonder why God hasn’t permitted me to see such things. You’ll say that the angels and miracles are all around me, occurring every day, and you may be right, but I am not privy to them. I see nothing. Thus, it seems intellectually convenient for a Chrsitian to attribute all good things/rescues/deliverances to God and all evil happenings to Satan. Not that God does evil, but does he PERMIT it, as so many say? And if not, how can we explain evil circumstances from which we narrowly escaped? I think one of the reasons why it’s so difficult to attribute love, protection and mercy to God is that these wonderful attributes are happenstance. Some receive His mercy – others die. Why does God let James be beheaded and, soon after, rescue Peter? Why is one delivered and the second given a brutal, painful death? Why are some Christian women abused and not rescued while others have gentle and kind marriages? I want to believe, to truly believe – no lip service – that God is sovereign over all as well as loving therefore anything that happens is His will. The idea that He looks away or merely “permits” some evil thing to occur seems ridiculous … to me. If He permits, He wills, which brings up the question of why we all have had these close calls from which we were delivered. What is God teaching or doing with us in these events? Anything? -- The world is full of undeserving people who shouldn't be given mercy ... but we're still commanded to be merciful toward them. We also stumble upon, on occasion, a very deserving person who merits admiration. Lets look for that person too.

In the West, the tables have been turned. It's the citizens that are being treated with contempt as aliens are given free housing in tony hotels. As the Message version puts it, "We've been kicked around long enough, kicked in the teeth by complacent rich men, kicked when we're down by arrogant brutes." I do think God is slowly righting this wrong. It has become so extreme and obvious that the pendulum has begun to swing the other way. This psalm teaches nothing about our contempt for others, though it speaks loudly to those who have had to endure injustice. The people who bear the brunt in my state are poor and lower middle class citizens, the old "blue collar" workers, those whose livelihoods have been snatched from them so callously. I see the hopelessness in their faces. Many of today's homeless were formerly tradesmen and blue collar workers who have been "kicked around" and gave up -- fighting the government seems like such a hopeless endeavor to them. Many turned to drugs. Although they are not from my social background, God has given me a deep and abiding love for these people ... and disdain for the government who has hurt them so much. I pray that government bureaucrats and elected officials are treated equally to how they treat their own citizens ... "kicked when they're down." I pray for a total social upheaval that rights these wrongs and restores heritage Americans to their rightful place in society. ANd, amazingly, this is happening. My prayers are being answered. Farmers who have been put out of business because of extremist green policies are fighting back and winning. Industrial workers are reclaiming -- too slowly -- their status and importance in the economy. Some of the homeless are kicking the drug habit, not enough ... but some. As incomes rise, some women are able to choose to stay home to raise their children and not park them in nanny-government schools. The arrogant bureaucrats who offshored jobs, God willing, will be fired in the upcoming administration. Even if only a tenth of them are fired, it's a good start. I show love by identifying with their anger and dispossession in the land of their forebears. I show love by loving people I normally wouldn't notice, to be honest. I show love by giving all I have to help them survive. I show love by tutoring them. I show love by fomenting political change. I show love by opposing war in which these men would be forced to fight and die, as the children of the evil bureaucrats enjoy their unearned and unmerited perqs.

The first question assumes that you had been “in the house” before deserting it, that there was something for you to desert. Most Westerners do not have church as a part of their lives therefore feel nothing missing when they don’t attend. To understand the depths of the secular mindset is difficult for those who grow up in Christian families and the church. Most Americans/Westerners are thoroughly secular. Some have remnants of their grandparent’s faith in the form of an unquestioned moral behavior, but for the most part, they take their moral cues from peers, and those peers are not churched. Ultimately, you set priorities. If church is a high enough priority, you’ll attend. If not, you’ll come up with excuses or rationally avoid it. Attending church and getting to know other Christians is costly – it costs you personally. Involvement in church is a sacrifice, therefore. I find it interesting that Pastor Ralph’s family tried to instill in him the idea that going to church is a good time and something to which he should look forward – for most of us, it may be best to think of church attendance and activity as an outgrowth of self-discipline and a command from God. The cost of attending/obedience may well exceed the benefits/blessing. Frankly, it is more than possible to mature without other Christians. The indwelling Holy Spirit causes your heart to incline toward Christ, not other people. If anything, other people confuse the growing Christian and may even hold him or her back. When you want to really know Him and His will, you get alone in prayer. Solitude has a much bigger role in the life of a sanctifying Christian than fellowship! Praying for peace within the church (and in all Christian relationships) and seeking the good of others is something that comes naturally to a thriving Christian whose eyes are oriented vertically, not horizontally. Ironically, a church of believers whose primary focus is on Him will not have bickering and nasty relationships with other Christians. Focusing not on others but on Him creates peace.