Krissi

These are wise words. Words I needed to read. Thank you, Lottie. God will neither leave us nor forsake us. I will never be alone. In horrible times and circumstances, He remains inside of me. No matter what happens, He will never leave me. I keep telling myself this ... reminding myself that I am not alone. These, too, are wise words. Thank you Rosesam for writing this! Yes, God is sovereign. He will be a very present help in time of trouble, a refuge, THEREFORE I WILL NOT FEAR. God doesn't say He'll make me into a superwoman, but will be very present inside of me, where the Spirit lives, as I go through this trial. I find it both amazing and comforting to know the Spirit is inside of me. He is present. And he promises me His strength, not to increase mine, but to give me His -- God is my refuge AND strength... Thank you both.

Paul says the fruits of the Spirit are far more valuable than spiritual gifts, particularly the fruit of love. Fruits of the Spirit grow us spiritually. Apparently gifts of the Spirit do not grow us spiritually. Why would God give spiritual gifts to individuals whose character has not yet matured to the point of love? True gifts are wholly of the Spirit, after all. But most of the posters here as well as Pastor Ralph have seen or experienced true gifts incorrectly used, that is, from "a selfish or wrong motivation." Perhaps this is why Christians who have the gift of healing don't always heal. They must have the gift of healing but not the maturity to exercise that gift correctly. They don't have love ... or enough love. Until now, I had thought that gifts that failed to reach their purpose were within people who didn't exercise enough faith. But in this passage Jesus says even a loveless faith can move mountains. Faith alone has a certain power. Faith + love has rewards. I'm confused. Sorry.

I've lived near oceans, rivers and streams and have found streams to be most peaceful and comforting. The constant, gentle babble of water over rocks ... quite lovely, really. I think of Elijah sitting by Cherith, a small brook that sustained him for years as he waited for God's next directive. He listened to that babbling brook night and day. That must have been a comfort. Peace isn't easy in times of great suffering, pain and mental turbulence. When life is horrible, being still is 'nigh impossible. Yet God commands the impossible. He demands inner peace. There is a point, however, where God Himself has to intervene. He has to bring the peace that the sufferer cannot grasp. He has to supernaturally intervene. Though there are rough times of life when circumstances are painful and disappointing, there are also crisis times when everything collapses within and peace is illusory, when one's stomach tightens into a knot and jaw clenches with fear. And yet, God commands us to be still at just these times because we should be seeing Him as the little gurgling stream, not the devastating earthquake near the sea. The self is bifurcated. Within oneself there should be peace while outside the self is turmoil and danger. This is because the Spirit is within us. He resides in us. The problem is this: in times of great suffering and fear, it's almost impossible to locate that peace inside of us. It feels as if God is commanding us to do the impossible, to make ourselves peaceful and faith-filled in a crisis. When we're beyond the point where we can rest in Him and find peace, God must take the initiative. He as to bring us to a point where He can give us peace. This isn't a mind-game in which we control our thoughts, but His supernatural gifting of peace. Peace could come no other way. After commanding us to be peaceful, God then commands us to know Him as God. This is the problem and crux of the matter. As we get to know Him, our trials increase. His way of sanctification and knowledge is suffering in trials. Our suffering intensifies as we age in Him. Yet His Peace often comes after the suffering, less during it. When we survive another bout of the crucible, we learn peace in retrospect. We learn to claim peace in the earlier, less intense stages but in the stage of suffering we're currently in, peace is caught up in the painful struggle to believe in His character and purposes, to know Him still deeper. Thus peace is always just out of our grasp. Unless He intervenes directly, peace is impossible. I pray for such comfort now, for His direct intervention, for peace.

Right now, I am sitting in a small home with my elderly father, an atheist. He knows his end will come and that he has lived more years than expected. He looks not forward to heaven and is angered when I talk about Jesus, so I am mostly silent. I have this sense, however, that he will accept the Lord before he dies. Little things he does and says confirm this. The statement, "Into your hands I commit my Spirit," is a statement of submission. It's what one says when the end is near, when death seems closer and very real. I cannot commit my father's spirit to God -- he has to commit himself to God. Yet, I can pray for his salvation ... I can beg God to add my father to the list of those who slip into heaven at the last moment. This experience has made me think of mortality far more than I would have in more normal circumstances. I am not afraid of dying, now, because my spirit is committed to Jesus. I look forward to death. Anticipate it eagerly. This has been one of the most difficult times of my life -- total solitude and isolation with a man I didn't know as a child, but have come to know and love -- and, frankly, I'm ready to go home. That is acquiescence ... submission ... giving up yet wanting more ... silent and unnoticed service, even servitude -- this is committing my spirit to the Lord. It's an emptied form of peace. -- Yes, my times are in His hands. My life ... the days of my life, are my times. But read on. David wants to be delivered from his enemies. Unfortunately, I need to be delivered, too. He needs to be protected from those who pursue him -- so do I. So as I read this, I see that God's unfailing love protected David from the evil men who were pursuing him, and I pray that I, too, will be protected from the evil people pursuing me. Deliver me, Lord. Protect me. Get me through this. Shine your face on me as I am innocent and am your servant. I await your peace, Lord. Your supernatural, inexplicable peace. Amen.

How would I know if/how other people aren't using their spiritual gifts? I can assume this because we're all on the road to sanctification -- none of us are fully using our gifts. I know my own spiritual gifts aren't fully and constantly "maximalized." So if I have been hurt by other people, I didn't know they hurt me. A congregation of individuals who are fully utilizing their gifts would be amazing. I can't imagine it. The Holy Spirit has no limitation on what He can do within us if we let Him work through us which is what a gift does.

The Lord quiets me (his sheep) by making me relax by laying down in a beautiful place with still waters and green grass. Then, he leads me to choose moral behavior and hems in this choice with his rod (punishment) and staff (protection). -- I particularly appreciate the part of the psalm where David speaks of God's table at which he is both seated and anointed in the presence of his enemies. God, thus, vindicates his children. Publicly. Openly. Goodness and mercy follow David, not his rapacious enemies. He dwells in the house of the Lord now and in the future. -- I pray this psalm over my life, right now.

Here, Paul clearly denies that our natural gifts and abilities are connected to divine or spiritual gifts. Gifts are clearly given by God. They exist parallel to, but are not in conjunction with, our natural gifts. Again, gifts are given. We don't earn them. We aren't born with them. They're simply given. There's a little cottage industry of Christian counselors who have devised tests to determine spiritual gifts as if we can figure out God's gifts on the basis of our natural giftedness. But we're not supposed to look at ourselves and say, "Hey ... this is easy for me, comes naturally and enjoyable so it must be my spiritual gift...." When gifts come, they come. We don't have to figure them out. When we need to exercise a particular gift, it will be there. We don't have to sleuth out our gifts as if God sneakily hid them from us -- nor are gifts latent in us waiting to be "discovered." The same God that gives gifts will make it clear how to use them and when. Our role is negligible. The Spirit does everything in His time and way.

I read this psalm a bit differently than Pastor Ralph and most posters here. Yes, the first stanza has to do with humility but it's a strong humility, an ability to NOT think about certain things. Here, David decides NOT concern himself with big ideas or things that are wonderful but beyond his comprehension. The second stanza starts with "but ..." not "because." He's saying that he has chosen to still and quiet his own mind by not thinking about things he cannot comprehend. Note that David quieted his own soul: God didn't quiet his soul for him. The third stanza analogizes David's self-quieting as the behavior of a weaned baby. A weaned baby has dealt with his mother pushing him aside (his mother, perhaps, is analogized as all the things David could not understand or deal with). What is David weaned from? Trying to figure things out that cannot be understood and considering ideas that are wonderful though incomprehensible. The fourth and final stanza is prescriptive -- "putting your hope in the Lord." Note, again, that this is a determination David has made. He has decided or willed to hope in God. He's not asking God to do anything, but rather realized that at this time in his life he must willfully reject ideas and behaviours that upset him, to quiet his own mind to the extent he is like a weaned child, weaned from demanding explanations from God. ____ Four days later ... God led me back to this lesson so I could learn from Him again. This has never happened before. I believe God is reaching toward me through Pastor Ralph's teachings. Right now, my stomach is knotted like a rock and I'm vomiting. I've slept very little this week and am exhausted. Tears are welling up as my shaky hands type : Lord, my Lord Jesus, I need your peace during this literal trial! I need to be able to quiet my inner person. Help me, Jesus. HELP! Actually getting His peace ... claiming it, and having the evidence that His peace has calmed my physical body, is really difficult. Am I humble enough? I feel as if the pride I used to have has been crushed by this point, but perhaps not. I do desire strength and imagine myself vanquishing the enemy in court which is a form of pride: I confess this, here, in this public forum. Lord, forgive my desire for vindication, a form of pride. Trust. I boils down to trust. God is teaching me to trust Him. Letting God determine the outcome. Not trying to manipulate the situation, but putting it in His hands, telling the total truth, and letting God work in this situation. This is a huge test for me. Can I trust God no matter what the outcome to be loving and good to me, to work things out for my best? Can I trust him to vindicate me? Lord, with the faith and trust of a mustard seed, I cede the consequences of obedience. Please help me conquer my debilitating fear which is, at bottom, a lack of trust in You. I will obey You and leave the consequences to You, Lord. I know you'll never leave or forsake me. I know you are a God who controls all circumstances. I struggle with the idea that you' care for me, but with the faith of a mustard seed, I believe you love me and are working all things for my benefit. Please comfort me. Amen.

God has not used me in one of these nine spiritual gifts. I pray to be used in such a way.

Meditated.

We are to be like Christ, to share in His sufferings.

From my earthly perspective, God's sovereignty and God's love are in tension. In this life, He chooses to put us in the crucible and chooses when to take us out, if at all. Thankfully, there's heaven. Eternal life. There, suffering will be no more. God is sovereign.

In this chapter, Paul states that the purpose of gifts is to encourage and strengthen the body of Christ. In a later chapter -- 14 -- however, Paul talks about tongues, in particular, as being a private gift that others do not understand. He even claims to speak in tongues more than anyone else. Perhaps some gifts help a Christian deepen his or her relationship with God as well as have a public manifestation? I'm not sure how to answer the last two, related questions: "What happens when ..." people either don't use their gifts, or conversely, use them appropriately. Since gifts are just that -- gifts -- it seems that God will direct their use as He is the giver. In other words, people who are spiritually gifted would sense His pressure or compulsion to use a gift at certain times and places. The same Spirit that has gifted them prompts them. Does a prophet think about what he is going to say in advance, or does God give him/her a vision and words to muse on in private, in prayer. Are the gifts always spontaneous? Is there a blurring of the line between the private use of a gift and it's public manifestation? Can gifts come and go, as needed? Many questions here ...

The promises in this psalm are for now. They do not refer to protection in the next life for we will not need to be watched, kept and preserved in heaven where there will be no danger or pain. We only need His help here. During our lives. Again, this psalm does not state that God will watch over us after we die, but says God is keeping and watching over us as we live on earth: "He will watch over your LIFE ... your coming and going, both NOW and forevermore." This psalm is practical. It doesn't state an abstraction such as promising to not let us be separated from the love of God, but promises practical, this-worldly protection from the sun harming us, things that threaten our lives, and people who harm us as we work, worship and travel. He promises to not let our feet slip, to shade us from the sun, to watch over us while we sleep ... to be our help.

Let me share the Anglican liturgy, what we pray before we take confession:Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone.We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ, have mercy on us and forgive us; that we may delight in your will, and walk in your ways, to the glory of your Name. Amen. This is beautiful as well as meaningful prose. One of the things that bothers me about the Anglican service is that there isn't enough time -- a lengthy pause -- to recall particular sins and repent of them. Liturgy becomes meaningless if it isn't taken to our hearts. It's impossible to self-examine honestly without seeing sin in ourselves which requires repentance, then confession. For a long time, I didn't take communion because I could think of sins I had committed and I didn't feel worthy ... I didn't trust Jesus' blood to cover these sins. Now, I approach the table as a sinner, but one forgiven. God forgives even our persistent sins (such as continued bitterness toward others who have wronged us in the past). I remember reading about Luther, who, before His "conversion" was obsessed with confessing every little sin that was brought to his mind. He spent hours confessing sins, trying not to leave one out. The doctrine of grace was the answer to his problem -- God's unmerited favour toward Luther included forgiving sins he could not recall! Grace covers sin like a blanket over a child.

Pastor Ralph summarizes the psalm by saying it gives us these "forthright promises:" to be rescued to be protected to have answers to our prayers to not be alone when we're suffering or in trouble to be delivered to have a long life to be saved These promises are to mitigate fear. We are to take these general truths or promises and make them our own, to include them in our own faith.

The eucharist is a private ceremony that binds me to God. So, does the word "proclamation" suggest that the ceremony may also have a public function, that the eucharist is a tool for evangelism? Do seculars hear the gospel in the eucharistic ceremony? I hope so -- the Spirit can quicken just about anything, after all. I can recall, however, in my pre-christian days, thinking that the eucharist was a spooky, ancient ritual that reminded me of Druids. I still believe the proclamation is from each Christian to God. I'm not even sure it has a binding function within the church body. Each Christian alone takes the eucharist, confesses sins and approaches God in this ceremony of forgiveness that reminds us that God forgives sins ... individual sins. Although there is corporate sin in the Old Testament, in the New Testament, believers stand before God alone; there are no "church" sins. A church cannot sin. People in a church sin. So the eucharist, as a ceremony of forgiveness, must be simultaneous and parallel proclamations by individuals within the body.

Images of protection include: Hidden in a rock in a very high place, probably a place where David can see his enemies coming before they can see him. The image I have is of boulders piled upon each other with David hidden between higher ones. Protected by a impregnable tower, like a medieval tower with huge doors that could shut out David's enemies. Tucked under the shelter of God's wings, like a baby bird under the wing of it's parents, warm and safe. The first four verses describe a man crushed by the constant barrage of his enemies. He has a persistent fear that never quite goes away. This is the cry of a man who is tired and ready to give up, yet still calling out to God for deliverance. It's the final cry, the cry that seems so far from God that it comes from "the ends of the earth." David's cry is sadly familiar. It's the cry of a man who has been pummelled too long, one who desperately needs God's strength and protection but isn't quite sure that God will pull through. "My heart grows faint ..." It makes me feel afraid for David, not protected by God. But the end of the psalm is hopeful. God heard David's cry! David expects God's presence to be with Him forever, his love and faithfulness to protect him. He says, that when God protects him, he will praise God endlessly, so grateful is he for being delivered from danger. "I sing in the shadow of your wings." Note that David still needs protection because he is still being harassed and hounded by Saul. God did not deliver David from Saul. Yet. He let Saul harm him for fourteen years. But though David was endangered, he sang because he knew God would protect him without delivering him.

The old covenant was made with Israel. God made covenantal promises to Abraham. “I will establish my covenant between me and you …” But a covenant obligates both parties – the Israelites and God – not just God. In the old covenant, Israel's obligation was to obey God’s voice in particular circumstances as well as keep the laws and statutes God had given them. Israel was not to worship other gods, but only Yahweh. Confession and sacrifice were part of keeping to what God had told Israel to do. In Exodus, the Moses and the leaders ate a covenantal meal before God. “They saw God and they ate and drank.” Only after this meal, Moses was given the Ten Commandments. Jeremiah predicted the New Covenant “Behold, the days are coming … when I will make a new covenant … not like the covenant that I made with their fathers … (the) covenant that they broke. … (In the New Covenant) I will put my law within them and I will write it on their hearts.” The essential difference, as I see it, between the old and new covenants is this: In the old, God is “out there;” in the new covenant, He is in our hearts. This fundamentally changes the way believers approach, relate, communicate and know God. In the new covenant, He is both without and within. The Lord’s supper is the recollection of the new covenant, a ritual during which we recall our sins, confess them and approach God as from without to restore His “withinness.”

I don't feel comfortable sharing what is going on in my life in a public forum, so suffice it to say that I am praying Psalm 69 back to God, asking God to hear David's words -- His word -- and to "come near and rescue me," "protect me," and let me "settle there and possess" the land. I pray that since I have been so focused on seeking God for many years, that He will graciously look down on me and make it so my "heart will live!"

Some churches rarely celebrate the eucharist and don't seem to be worse off for it -- my church, Anglican, celebrates weekly. Our entire service is centred on the eucharist, not the sermon. The liturgy moves us toward this pivotal weekly event. Having said this, I'm not sure how important is the frequency with which we celebrate. If we celebrated daily, hourly, weekly, monthly, annually ... would it impact our faith in Him? Yes, it's a commanded ritual, but its frequency isn't commanded. It's a ritual that to remind us -- drive into us -- the importance of Christ's sacrifice on the cross for our sins. In my denomination, the liturgy emphasizes the recollection and repentance for sin, both individual and corporate, but I dare say that as individual Christians we should be consciously aware of our need to repent all the time. After all, there are other ways of remembering His body and blood, and again, His atoning sacrifice should be at the centre of our thoughts all the time. For example, when I read Oswald Chambers, I sense his focus on the atonement through the cross. It can be done. Silently and secretly I disagree with my denomination's stance on the eucharist because I believe the body and blood are purely symbolic reminders of His death with no substantiated aspect of Christ's body present.

Charles Finney, in the waning years of the Second Great Awakening, wrote a book about revival which I have on my desktop. It begins with this quote: "O Lord, revive thy work in the midst of the years, in the midst of the years make known; in wrath remember mercy." Hab 3.2 When I went to look up this verse in more modern translation (NIV) it was quite different than the verse above: "Lord, I have heard of your fame; I stand in awe of your deeds, Lord.Repeat them in our day, in our time make them known; in wrath remember mercy. (Finney's book is a great read, by the way. I had downloaded it for free off the internet. Here's the URL: https://www.ccel.org/ccel/finney/revivals.html. Finnay claims that most pastors expect revivals to occur in churches every five to 15 years. I find this difficult to believe.) -- Anyway, a prayer for revival is a prayer for God to repeat what He had done before. Such a prayer assumes that revival and apostacy are cyclical and that an individual/church/nation is now approaching a period of revival. Revival, then, recovers something lost or dulled. -- Can we ask God for revival or is this something that mysteriously happens because it's in God's inscrutable plan? Perhaps revival may begin with the prayers and behavioural changes within Christians but end as God alone acts. Finney stresses human responsibility. As with the 2 Chronicles verse given by Pastor Ralph, praying for church and national revival begins by acknowledging how far we have slipped off our past scriptural and spiritual foundation. Then, once the past has been recalled and understood to be better than the present, Christians should desire to return to their former spiritual closeness to God, to be revived from their current listless state. If this desire is sincere and heart-felt, then Christians must search their own hearts to weed out any sins that may have prevented their individual closeness to God ... they must confess and repent. This is the human part of revival (recollection, desire to change, repentance and actually changing on an individual basis). It is individualized. God coordinates our individual "revivals" and extends them as He sees fit. We initiate, He responds.

Like so many truths in Christian life, it's difficult to focus all the different angles on one spot. Self-discipline v God's grace are two of those angles. On the one hand, I am to run with all my strength, to intentionally and deliberately choose to NOT think or do sinful things, to break patterns that are long-established and willingly whip myself into moral shape. On the other hand, I'm supposed do this through the power and initiation of the Spirit. Any victory I have over sin in my own life is His. I cannot obey on my own. Now, I've known many secularists who are "good people" and seem to have more self-discipline than I do. Other religions take self-abnegation and even self-harm to much greater extremes than Christianity. Frankly, I think Christians are pretty soft when it comes to self-discipline, but perhaps I'm just revealing my own inner battles. It's difficult to know when to rest in Christ to let Him do the work and when I'm to battle in a disciplined manner: When do I walk around Jericho tooting my horn and let God win the battle for me: When do I create checklists and other ways of forcing better thoughts and behaviour in myself? The uncomfortable answer, for me, is BOTH. Often I do all I can do and when I've reached the end of my tether, I beg God to clean up my mess and fix me. But, I've wondered if I should have asked God to fix me from the start. Perhaps all I need to do is passively focus on Him thus eschewing the disciplined athlete metaphor in Paul's passages. --- Pickled Lilly writes so wisely on this: "Self-discipline is very important in keeping us from falling into gross sin such as idolatry. Every sin we willingly enter has already been accepted in our minds, so we have to make tough choices in order to keep our thoughts from being led astray from a sincere and pure devotion to Christ (2Corinthians 11:3). Our minds are to be renewed by the Spirit and the Word at work in us – and that takes deliberate submission and investment of time (Titus 3:5; Romans 12:2; Ephesians 4:23). We have to make intentional decisions to destroy worldly arguments and lofty opinions, to take every thought captive in order to obey Christ, and to self-correct our own disobedience (2Cor. 10:5) – these actions guard and protect us from walking into the traps of sin. We have to discipline ourselves in being humble before God (James 4:10), sometimes setting aside personal rights/desires for a greater good (1Cor. 9:12b) and enduring the trials/persecutions that grow and mature us in our faith (James 1:2-4) ... "

Knowing my lowly station before God -- I sin constantly, sometimes without awareness – and that my best good deeds and thoughts fall far short of His perfection – makes me want to crawl to Him on my knees and humbly beg for His attention and compassion. On the other hand, I've been adopted into God’s family and am able to approach Him standing up! In spite of my dirtiness, I can expect Him to help me because of who He is. These two ways of seeing myself before God are within this psalm. Both are true and appropriate. At times, particularly after I become aware of sins I have committed, my tendency is to grovel before God, tearfully beg for forgiveness, and ask for His help going forward as well as another chance. But when I feel victimized or buffeted by forces out of my control which have nothing to do with my character, my approach to God is less humble and more faithful. I feel confident asking Him to take over these things in my life, to make good out of evil. I don't think either one of these things can go missing in a Christian's life.

A metaphor for personality I've used to clarify my own thinking is this: I am a paper target like the ones used for shooting practice, having a bullseye surrounded with decreasingly important concentric circles. The bullseye is faith. That's our core, the unchanging part of personality. The next concentric circle that abuts the bullseye could be class, cultural background or something deep and constitutive, like being creative or intellectual. Every concentric circle moving outward is less important than the ones interior to it. These circles of personality vary among us. Yours are not mine. Paul could be all things to all people because his bullseye was very secure -- his faith was large and clearly outlined. He wasn't worried about fudging the concentric circles. His authenticity was located in the core, the bullseye. The rest was periphery and thus expendable. We are allowed, in fact encouraged, to ditch the periphery and hone in on the core. When you do this, you remain authentic even when adjusting to the habits of others. Having said this, I do think that those of us who exist on the boundary between Christianity and other religions -- including secularism -- are always in danger of slipping over the edge and engaging in role playing, as Pastor Ralph put it. There's a way to be authentic among people who are different. This is hard to describe. It includes being true to who God created you as you are. As long as you avoid sycophantic behavior and are comfortable in your own skin, the particularities of who you are do not need to be displayed. "Lion of Grace," a poster upthread, mentioned Christian lingo as something she gave up to reach others. This didn't effect her faith but widened her outreach. That's a good example. -- In a way, it's very clarifying to be with people who are very different than you. It's easier, that is. When you associate with people who have similar peripheries, it's easy to lose focus on the core and get caught in the weeds of comfortable relationships ... of similarity. I have wondered if explains why God sends missionaries to foreign countries when there are so many people who do not know Him within feet of home -- perhaps it's to clarify what's important so that the outer circles are not distracting. It purifies the gospel message. It cuts a missionary away from what's not important. Frees him or her.