With the Covid and its many related problems, I find that it is easy to get depressed, dismayed, fearful and worried about my own situation. Too often, I disregard the priceless blessing of eternal salvation I have through Jesus that relegates my worldly problems to relative nothingness. I forget about how many people do not know Jesus and therefore confront the only problematic consequences that really matter. They too are eternal.
An all-important responsibility of being a Christian – that means us – is rescuing those who do not know or who have turned away from God. Jesus likened it to the task of seeking lost sheep. Then he extolled the joy of rescuing them. In Luke 15: 4-6 (NIV) he said, “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home.” Tending sheep in a wilderness setting in the times of Jesus and the Old Testament was not an easy job. A shepherd had to be strong and brave. David describes his experience as a shepherd in I Samuel 17:34-35, “When a lion or a bear came and carried off a sheep from the flock, I went after it, struck it and rescued the sheep from its mouth. When it turned on me, I seized it by its hair, struck it and killed it.” Rescuing a lost sheep was an especially arduous and dangerous task. Normally, sheep blindly followed their leader along the path. But when a predator came, they could panic, scatter and become lost. Once lost, they had no sense of direction and could helplessly wander deep into the wilderness. They could penetrate into the depths of dense thickets and briars. Their rescuer had to brave the wild beasts and go into the thorny thickets after them. After finally grabbing it, the rescuer had to hoist the struggling animal (weighing 100 pounds or even much more) on his shoulders and head homeward. In today’s spiritual world, the number and danger of predators are increasing rapidly as is the number of lost sheep. The thickets, thorns and spines of the natural wilderness have been replaced by the barbs, sharp insults, scorn and violent threats in the spiritual wilderness of urban slums, universities, entertainment centers, bars and even luxury resorts towards where the lost sheep now tend to flee. They are prevalent in the red zones not a dozen blocks from where we live, and the rescue can be very dangerous. The need to save lost sheep is greater than ever and the task of saving them is increasingly formidable. They cannot be rescued by remaining hidden in the sheep pen of church walls. We must have strong faith and know that the Lord is with us. We must be brave, determined, persistent and prepared like David to go out to the midst of the wilderness, fend off the predators and save the sheep before they are devoured. When we seek to serve and achieve our goal, our problems dissipate. We can follow Jesus’ words, call our friends and neighbors together and say, “Rejoice with me; I have found a lost sheep.”
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25 I know that my redeemer lives,
and that in the end he will stand on the earth. 26 And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; Job 19:25-26 NIV If anyone ever had a list of legitimate complaints, it is the venerable Job of the Old Testament. When we first meet him, he has lived a charmed life – nice home, great income, good health, healthy kids. His future was secure. But that all changed in the blink of an eye. He lost it all. It was agony. Reading through Job can be a chore at times, slogging through the conversations Job has with his “friends.” (“With friends like these, who needs enemies?” applies here.) But for those who persevere to the end of the book, we can gain insight about going through hard times. When Job finds himself at an all-time low, he doesn’t curse God and die – a suggestion from his wife. He decides to deal with life the way it is. In Job 1:21 he has already declared, “Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart. The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away; may the name of the LORD be praised." Then his physical pain and suffering increase. His sores are legendary. He complains that he wishes he’d never been born, and more words of distress were recorded than words of praise. Job clearly discerns the truth of his situation. He doesn’t deny that his life is beyond awful. A case of bad breath that makes his dear wife avoid him (19:17) is one of his many laments. Lamenting has its place in a balanced life. It gives us a chance to work through grief. It is not an indictment about our spirituality or lack thereof. To lament is to recognize what we have lost, and gives us a space for coming to grips with it. Job doesn’t cut short the grieving time by plastering on a fake smile and claiming victory over disaster. In addition to the physical distress, Job has the emotional stress (6:14-15,16:1-4) from his friends’ accusations. They are nice to Job at the outset, by not saying anything for a week. However, on day eight, the gloves come off, and the friends start verbally punching away. The attacks are often cruel. In Job’s case, people – even friends – could not be counted on to be his source of encouragement at a time when he desperately wanted some. Job lashes out in anger against God, but God doesn’t abandon Job to his boiling emotions. He assures Job that He is all-knowing and all-powerful (chapters 38–41). Job comes to realize that he was wrong to question God’s motives, that he should show humility, so he asks to take back all he said against God. Then the blessing comes. While the biblical text points out the physical and material blessings Job received at God’s hand, I have to wonder if peace with God was not the greater reward. I’m glad to know that my redeemer-vindicater lives, and doesn’t abandon me when I take issue with Him for what he allows in my life. Diane Cowie "TRUST GOD," THEY SAY
(A Missionary Wife Thinks It Over) By Ralph and Helen Porter Helen wrote this when we lived in Guatemala, in the heat of the guerrilla movement. We have recently updated it in the light of current conditions. "Trust God," they say. "I trust," I answer. For I am young and strong. I can go alone, far from friends and home, and eat the beans and rice and goat, and sleep on a narrow church bench. "I trust Him," I say. For I am young and strong. And if I get sick (or a stray bullet comes my way), it's only me. Yes, I trust Him. "Trust God," they say. "We trust," we answer. For two are one – and young and strong. Together we can go, and eat the beans and rice and goat, and sleep wherever. "We trust Him," we say. For we are young and strong. And if we get sick (or a stray bullet comes our way), we are together. Yes, we trust Him. "Trust God," they say. "We are learning," we answer. For now we are four and two are very young – and not so strong. And the beans and rice are tiresome and there isn't any goat, and the youngest cries out at night so no one sleeps. "We are learning to trust Him," we say. But we sometimes wonder! what if the younger ones get sick (or a stray bullet . . . .)? Yes, we are learning to trust Him. "Trust God," they say. "We are still learning," we answer. For now we are five! and two no longer feel so young nor strong. And the younger ones love rice and beans, and we wake at night, wondering about some not-so-distant sounds. "We are still learning," we say. But that fear returns when young ones run to play (and we think about stray bullets). Yes, we are still learning to trust Him. "Trust God," they say. "Are we still learning?" we wonder. For now our five are concerned about their own families! And two in their "third-third" are neither young nor strong. And the whole crew loves rice and beans, And we wonder about pandemics and what the future may bring. "We are still learning," we say. But that fear returns when we consider our grandchildren (and we think about the world they will face). Yes, we are still learning to trust Him. "Trust God," they say. Sometimes we wonder if they know what they are saying. And even more, we wonder if they know what we mean when we say "YES, LORD, WE TRUST YOU!" “Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take.” Prov. 3:5-6 (NLT) © 1983, 2020, Helen L. Porter. Used by permission. Psalm 137: 1-4
1By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept when we remembered Zion. 2There on the poplars we hung our harps, 3for there our captors asked us for songs, our tormentors demanded songs of joy; they said, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!” 4How can we sing the songs of the Lord while in a foreign land? Psalm 137 has always brought me a unique sense of comfort and hope. It is a captivity psalm, a psalm rooted in despair, in longing, and in unfulfilled desires. The Israelites find themselves in captivity, and their captors are requiring them to sing the songs of Zion. They can't. How could they sing the songs of Zion, the songs of home, while in a foreign land? Instead, they weep, they hang their harps, and later in the psalm, they even express desire for vengeance against their captors. The Israelites, the people who knew God and his promises, who knew they were his chosen people, who were led out of Egypt by Moses, found themselves sinking into despair while in captivity. I can identify with the feeling of captivity and with the despair that accompanies it. Five years ago in September, at the height of the rainy season, we lost a dear friend, Rudy. He was a guajero working in the city garbage dump when the rains provoked a trash slide. Rudy was buried in the trash, and we were left devastated. We were lost in captivity to grief, devastated both because of the loss of a friend, and because of the systems that allowed for that tragic loss. We found it difficult to sing songs of joy. For a while, we hung up our harps. I found myself turning to this psalm for comfort and hope. At times it’s hard for humans to be honest and raw with their emotions, especially Christians. There is an internalized fear that if we express this level of grief, then people will question our trust in the Lord. Yet this passage, along with passages like Ecclesiastes 3 (there is a time for everything), the Beatitudes of Matthew 5 (blessed are those who mourn), and John 11 (Jesus wept), affirms that there is a place for our complex range of emotions. In both the Old and New Testament, that place is at God’s feet. Psalm 55:22 “Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you.” 1 Peter 5:7 “Cast all your anxiety on the Lord for he cares for you.” I find it both comforting and hopeful that God welcomes my grief, despair, and tears and that he cares for me and sustains me in them. *All Biblical references are taken from the NIV. Annette Aguilar |
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