When God is Our Portion

I was in tenth grade when my grandmother had a heart attack. My grandparents lived far away from us and had just been in town for a visit when we received a call from my grandfather late one evening. I remember a flurry of decision making and tense voices, and then my mother came in my room to tell me she would leave in the morning to travel and visit my grandmother in the hospital.

I remember not quite knowing what to feel or think. I was a teenager and unfamiliar with all the medical jargon. But I loved my grandmother dearly and wanted to comfort her in some way. So I opened my Bible, culled through the Psalms, searching for words that might provide some solace. I scribbled a note to her for my mother to give her and added these words of Asaph:

“Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73:25-26).

A few days later, my grandmother passed away and every time I read Psalm 73, I think of her.

For years, whenever I reach Psalm 73 in my Bible reading plan, those two verses jump out at me and instantly I am transported back to my adolescence and to the grief and sorrow I felt at her loss. But recently, I re-read the Psalm and was struck by how those two verses stand in contrast to everything before it.

In Psalm 73, the psalmist comes to the throne of grace with a complaint. He pours out his disappointments, questions, and doubts before the Lord with great expectation. He assumes God hears him. He assumes God will respond. And what is his main complaint?

The prosperity of the wicked.

They seem to have no problems. They are rich and problem-free. They don’t experience the troubles and trials the rest of mankind contends with. They are prideful and thumb their nose at God. The psalmist describes it this way: “They set their mouths against the heavens, and their tongue struts throughout the earth.” They deny God. And all the while, they increase in wealth and prosperity.

Asaph brings these complaints before the Lord in the context of worship. And in doing so, he is convicted. He sees his heart. He sees how bitter he is as a result of comparing his life to that of the ungodly. “When my soul was embittered, when I was pricked in heart, I was brutish and ignorant; I was like a brute beast toward you.”

But God is gracious! The Psalm then transitions to the wonders of God’s grace. “Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will receive me to glory.” After Asaph confesses his sin, the fog dissipates and he sees the truth: God is everything. The ungodly might have every material possession their hearts desire, but the godly have something far better, God himself. Knowing God and being known by him is worth far more than anything this world has to offer. In fact, everything that the ungodly accumulate in life dissipates like a dream once they stand before the throne of judgement (v.20). Their prosperity is shown to be empty and useless. What a contrast to all that we have in God! That’s what those verses I sent to my grandmother mean. God is our portion. He is our inheritance. And through Jesus, we have full access.

I have my grandmother’s Bible, the one she took with her to church each Lord’s Day. It’s filled with her sermon notes and underlined passages. She knew the Lord was her portion. And I’m thankful for the years I had with her as a child, to learn from her testimony, to learn of her love for God. My grandmother’s example and the words of Asaph point me to the truth: “it is good to be near God.” In his presence, doubts are transformed. The weak are made strong. The lost and frightened find refuge.

When we seek the Lord, we find everything.

Photo by Werner Sevenster on Unsplash

On Lament, Psalm 142, and this Current Crisis

How are you feeling these days? This crisis is bringing up many difficult emotions for all of us. It certainly is for me. Throughout the day, I find myself hop-scotching from worry to loneliness to frustration to boredom to discontentment. Some days are better than others. Especially when I don’t allow myself to consider the unknown future.

I am sad for all that my children are missing. I am disappointed by cancelled plans. I am lonely and miss friends and family. I am worried about our health. I grieve the losses many have experienced and will experience in the weeks to come.

The question is: what do I do with all these difficult emotions?

All I know to do is to lament. To lament is to cry out to God, to bring our emotions before him and seek his help. It’s to be raw and honest with the Lord. It’s to verbalize our fears, sorrows, and cares in his presence. It’s to voice our longings, hopes, cares, and dreams. It is to seek his justice, salvation, and provision. It’s to dwell on who he is and what he has done. And it’s to trust and wait and hope for his deliverance.

Psalm 142 is a lament, one written by David while he was on the run from his enemies—likely King Saul. While hiding and fearful for his life, he cried out in prayer to the Lord. It is a prayer that was later turned into a psalm used in Israel’s worship, sung as we do our hymns and praise songs on Sunday morning. This lament is apropos for our time. You might say David was in quarantine, sheltered away not at home, but in a dark and desolate cave.

“With my voice I cry out to the LORD;
with my voice I plead for mercy to the LORD.
I pour out my complaint before him;
I tell my trouble before him”

David brought his emotions and cares to the LORD. He used God’s covenant name, Yahweh, the Great I AM. This is the name God gave Moses at the burning bush and refers to God’s aseity, his eternal self-existence, his sovereignty, and his covenant-keeping presence with his people. David cried out to the God who rules over all things.

“When my spirit faints within me,
you know my way!
In the path where I walk
they have hidden a trap for me.
Look to the right and see:
there is none who takes notice of me;
no refuge remains to me;
no one cares for my soul”

David was weary and worn. His enemies were relentless. It felt like no one could help him; there was no one who even cared. He was abandoned, alone, and afraid. He voiced these troubles in his prayer. He was honest with God. After all, God already knew how David felt and what thoughts were going through his mind. God knew he was stuck in the cave, far from home and from his loved ones. God knew everything that was happening in David’s life. As C.H. Spurgeon commented, “Observe his comfort: he looked away from his own condition to the ever observant, all knowing God: and solaced himself with the fact that all was known to his heavenly Friend. Truly it is well for us to know that God knows what we do not know. We lose our heads, but God never closes his eyes: our judgments lose their balance, but the eternal mind is always clear.”

“I cry to you, O LORD;
I say, “You are my refuge,
my portion in the land of the living.”
Attend to my cry,
for I am brought very low!
Deliver me from my persecutors,
for they are too strong for me!”

David sought God’s help. He asked God to hear his cry and respond. He asked for rescue and deliverance. He asked God to intervene in his life. As he did, David looked to who God is: his refuge and his portion. He humbled himself before the Almighty, the Great I AM, seeking his help and strength.

“Bring me out of prison,
that I may give thanks to your name!
The righteous will surround me,
for you will deal bountifully with me.”

David ended his lament with hope and trust. He hadn’t yet experienced God’s rescue, but he expected God to intervene and help him. He looked forward to rejoining God’s people. He anticipated giving thanks to God for his goodness to him. This is a response of faith. The process of lamenting, of crying out to God, reshaped David’s emotions. In the face of the Great I AM, his lesser fears weakened. He knew God was his refuge and trusted that he would deliver him.

I don’t know about you, but I can relate to David’s emotions. I too am weary and worn. I feel overwhelmed by our current circumstances. Like David, I don’t know how long I’ll be stuck in my home. Like David’s enemies, this illness is also strong and relentless. But as this psalm reminds me, God is greater. He is the Great I AM. Therefore, this crisis will not have the final say.

So, I will do as David did and what God’s people have done for centuries. I will cry out to God in lament. I will pour out my soul before him. I will ask for his help and rescue. And I will trust in who he is: my refuge in times of trouble. “The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold and my refuge, my savior; you save me from violence” (2 Samuel 22:2-3).

Hope for the Weary {and a giveaway}

People often ask me which of my books is my favorite. In many ways, my books are like my children—birthed through tears and pain. Yet, I do have a favorite and it’s A Heart Set Free, one I wrote about the Psalms of Lament. The process of writing the book gave me an even greater love and appreciation for the Psalms than I had before. I continue to read and study and learn from its prose.

The Psalms have always met me right where I am. They often hold up a mirror to show me what’s going on in my heart. Whether it was in the grief and depression of adolescence, the postpartum days of early motherhood, or just in the struggles that come with living in a fallen world, the Psalms have been and continue to be a balm to my weary soul.

Lately, I’ve struggled with a deep weariness. Such weariness is likely a combination of health issues, the stage of life I’m in, and the challenge of juggling too many plates. I’m weary of dealing with the thorns and thistles of life. I’m worn from ripping out weeds and pulling out the briars— only to find them reappear soon after. Life too often feels like a Monday, set on repeat.

And so I go to where I know I’ll find hope: the Psalms.

Psalm 71

I recently read Psalm 71. In one of my Bibles, the heading reads “Forsake me not when my strength is spent.” Yes! That’s a good description of where I’m at: spent strength. In another study Bible, the heading reads “God’s help in old age.” (I smiled when I read that title.)

The psalmist was likely advanced in years when he penned the psalm, for he wrote, “Do not cast me off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength is spent” (v.9) and “So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come but whether one is old or young, it points to our hope” (v.18). Whether we are young or old, or somewhere in between, Psalm 71 points us to our great hope in God.

As I read this psalm, it was like learning from a mentor who has walked with the Lord for many years. He models what it looks like to lament with hope. It is both a psalm of lament, where the psalmist cries out to God for help and rescue, but it is also a testimony of God’s faithfulness. “Upon you I have leaned from before my birth; you are he who took me from my mother’s womb” (v.6). The psalmist’s knowledge of God isn’t merely theological, it’s also experiential. He knows from past experience of God’s steadfast love and faithfulness. He’s seen God move in his life and rescue him time and time again. He’s learned where to turn when life is hard, when evil pushes in from every side, when he feels weak and unable to stand. “O God, from my youth you have taught me, and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds” (v.17).

In this psalm, the writer faces enemies who plot against him. He asks the Lord to rescue him: “In your righteousness deliver me and rescue me; incline your ear to me, and save me! Be to me a rock of refuge, to which I may continually come; you have given the command to save me, for you are my rock and my fortress” (vv.2-3). Like a wise mentor, the psalmist points the reader to who God is throughout the psalm. He describes God as a rock, refuge, fortress, hope, righteousness, salvation, strength, and faithful. He talks about God’s works and acts of righteousness. He looks to God as his salvation and hope in the midst of his fears. “Your righteousness, O God, reaches the high heavens. You who have done great things, O God, who is like you?” (v.19).

Though this psalm is a lament, though the psalmist is fearful of those who are against him and cries out to God for his help and deliverance, there is also praise and worship woven throughout. The psalmist interrupts his complaints to praise God for who he is “My mouth is filled with your praise, and with your glory all the day” (v.8) and “But I will hope continually and will praise you yet more and more” (v.14).

A Testimony for the Weak and Weary

I recently talked with a mentor/friend who lost a loved one. She testified to me of God’s great love for her during a hard and painful time. She spoke of God’s grace and faithfulness toward her in her grief. She did as the psalmist did in verse 18: “I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come.” My friend, like the psalmist, has known God’s love and faithfulness throughout her life. She knows that while sorrows and storms will roll over her, God is her refuge. She knows, like the the psalmist, that God is her comfort. “You who have made me see many troubles and calamities will revive me again; from the depths of the earth you will bring me up again. You will increase my greatness and comfort me again” (vv. 20-21).

What a testimony for the weak and weary! These truths are what my heart needs most as I face my own weariness. God is my refuge and strength. He will sustain me and carry me. He is my salvation. I want my own heart to respond as the psalmist in Psalm 71. I want to cry out to God for help in the face of life’s circumstances. I want to remember all he’s done for me in the past. I want to trust him to carry me in my weakness. And I want a heart that bursts out into praise and worship, even in the midst of fear, sorrow, and weariness, so that others might also know that God alone is the source of hope and help.

I’d love to share with you the joy of reading and studying the Psalms—of learning how to model your own prayers and heart cries after the Psalms of Lament. To that end, I am running a giveaway of A Heart Set Free. Enter below in the giveaway box, US residents only. Giveaway ends on March 15 at 12am EST. Update: this giveaway has ended and the winners have been contacted. Thank you for entering!

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Three Things to Remember When Life is Hard

Last year, during our trip to Israel, I had the opportunity to visit a site that held special significance for me. While every site we explored was important and meaningful, this particular site was one I had spent a year thinking about and studying when I wrote A Heart Set Free. To see it in person was surreal and I couldn’t help but respond with strong emotion. What site was it? En Gedi.

The word En Gedi means “spring of the wild goat.” En Gedi is an oasis in the middle of the Judean Wilderness. What makes it so remarkable is its close proximity to the Dead Sea; everything in the surrounding area is dead, lifeless. Yet, wild goats feed off the lush and vibrant plants that grow there. A stream of water rushes through the middle of the oasis. Surrounding this stream are rocky cliffs dotted with caves. It is in those caves where David hid while on the run from King Saul in the Old Testament.

1 Samuel 24:1-2 says, “When Saul returned from following the Philistines, he was told, “Behold, David is in the wilderness of Engedi.” Then Saul took three thousand chosen men out of all Israel and went to seek David and his men in front of the Wildgoats’ Rocks.” In those caves, frightened and alone, David penned at least two psalms, Psalm 57 and 142.

David’s Cry in Psalm 142

In Psalm 142, David cries out to the Lord for help and hope. “With my voice I cry out to the LORD; with my voice I plead for mercy to the LORD. I pour out my complaint before him; I tell my trouble before him” (Psalm 142:1-2). He tells the Lord exactly how he is feeling and what he is going through. He says “my spirit faints within me” (v.3). “I am brought very low” (v.6). And “Deliver me from my persecutors, for they are too strong for me!” (v. 6).

While few of us have been on the run from our enemies as David was, we do know what it’s like to be at then end of our rope, to feel stuck with nowhere to turn. We know what it feels like to be in despair or to feel lost and alone. We know what it’s like to be afraid. We know what it’s like to face something so frightening, we can’t imagine any way around it. We know what it’s like to look for help and find none (v.4).

In the midst of that terrifying circumstance, David turned to the LORD God. He turned to the great I Am for help and hope.

For those of us who find ourselves with similar emotions to what David writes about in Psalm 142, there are three things we can remember from this passage.

God’s Knows

In verse three, David wrote “When my spirit faints within me, you know my way!” Our God is an omniscient God. He knows all things. He knows the end from the beginning. He is never surprised or caught off guard by the circumstances of our lives. And he knows us intimately. As David wrote elsewhere, “O LORD, you have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O LORD, you know it altogether” (Psalm 139:1-4).

God knows just what to do in all circumstances. And he knows what is best for us. John Calvin encourages us to rest in the fact that God knows: “God knew the way to deliver him, while his own mind was distracted by a variety of thoughts, and yet could not conceive any mode of extrication. The words teach us, when we have tried every remedy and know not what to do, to rest satisfied with the conviction that God is acquainted with our afflictions, and condescends to care for us, as Abraham said --"The Lord will provide." (Genesis 22:8.)”

God is Our Refuge

David turned to God because he knew God was his refuge. “I cry to you, O LORD; I say, ‘You are my refuge,
my portion in the land of the living’” (v. 5). The Hebrew word for refuge is “machaseh” which means hope, place of refuge, shelter, or trust (Strongs 4268). David put his trust and hope in God.

In the midst of your current trial, wherein do you place your hope and trust? It’s easy to turn to false refuges, to run and hide in metaphorical caves, or to seek out hope in created things rather than in the Creator. But those false refuges will only let us down. God alone is our place of safety. And it’s only in God that we find all we need. Like the Levites who had no land of their own, God is our portion; he is our inheritance. He is our Father and we are his children. We can call on him anytime and anywhere and know that he hears us. We can trust him to be our refuge and hope in times of trouble.

God Will Deliver

David ends his psalm with confidence. “The righteous will surround me, for you will deal bountifully with me” (v. 7). The armies that surrounded David were stronger than he was, but he knew God was stronger still. He knew and expected that God would deliver him. He knew he would once again be surrounded by God’s people.

Though the effects of the fall ravage our lives, though sin seems to have a grip on us, though evil appears to be winning, God is our deliverer. We only have to look to Christ and what he has accomplished for us in his life, death, resurrection, and ascension. He brought us from death to life. He redeemed us from slavery to sin. He made peace for us with God. He gave us the gift of his Spirit to change and transform us. Because of Christ, we too can face the hard circumstances of life with confidence, not in ourselves, but in who Christ is for us.

Dear friend, when life is hard, cry out to God in lament. Tell him your sorrows and fears. Ask for his help and deliverance. Put your hope and trust in him, for he is your refuge and portion.

A Prayer While Waiting

I often find myself in a place of waiting. I wait for the Lord to answer prayers for which I’ve long prayed. I wait for him to move in my life and in the life of others. I wait for wisdom to know what to do in particular circumstances. I wait for fruit to grow in ministries and relationships. I wait for dreams and hopes to finally come to fruition.

It’s easy to grow weary in waiting. I am often impatient. Sometimes my heart fills with worry and doubt. I may even begin to wonder if God has forgotten about me. That’s why the Psalms are an important book for those of us who wait. It shows us how to wait well. It shows us to turn to the Lord with all that is on our heart and cry out to him. In Psalm 13:1, he wrote, "How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?”

For all of us who wait, let us turn to the Lord in prayer.

A Prayer While Waiting

Father in Heaven,

I come before you with my heart filled with so many different thoughts and feelings. I am tense and uncertain about what I should be doing and where I should go. I feel weak and helpless. Powerless. I am worried about what happens next and whether I have the strength to handle it. Deep down I wonder, how long will I be here? Will I be stuck in this place of waiting forever? And why am I here to begin with? What's happening, Lord? But most of all, I wonder, where are you? Why haven't you responded to my cries for help?

But even as I pray that, I know you are right where you've always said you would be. You've never left me and you will never forsake me. You hear all my cries. In fact as David wrote in Psalm 139, you know my thoughts before I even think them. You know exactly what is happening in my life and what will happen next. All things are in your control and nothing can happen apart from your will. Not a sparrow falls to earth without your willing it to and you know the number of hairs on my head. You are never surprised. Even about this issue in my life today. You know why this is happening and will use it for your glory and my good.

Forgive me for how I have worried about this situation. Forgive me for doubting your love and care in my life. Forgive me for my discontentment as I wait for what happens next. Forgive me for being impatient. Forgive me for not seeking after you and for allowing these circumstances in my life to seem greater than your grace and goodness. Create in me a clean heart. Help me to see the counterfeit loves and idols in my heart. Help me to see all the things I cling to that I think will make my life happy and complete apart from you. Help me to repent and turn back to you, my one true love. 

As the prophet wrote in Lamentations, "It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord" (3:26). Help me to remember that it is good to wait for you. In this place of waiting, help me to remember all that you have done for me through Jesus Christ. Help me to remember that your grace is sufficient to not only save me from sin, but to sustain me each and every day. Your grace is at work in me right now, transforming me and making me more like your Son. Nothing can separate me from you. I am safe in your love. 

Help me to know more of the joy that comes from knowing you. Grant me joy in Jesus, joy in being your child, and joy in knowing that you are always with me. May I find hope in your word for as the psalmist wrote, "I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I hope" (Psalm 130:5).

May I live for you even while I wait. Help me to obey and remain faithful, no matter how long I am in this place of waiting. 

In Jesus' name I pray, amen.

On Psalm 88 and Jesus's Final Night

Some people refer to a visit to Israel as the fifth gospel. I guess it’s because everything you read about in the Bible comes to life when you walk where Jesus walked. Visiting the Holy Land engages not only one’s thoughts and emotions, but also the senses. Seeing the cities and towns where narratives in Scripture took place, hearing the bleating sheep on the hills outside Jerusalem, sitting on the same hillside where Jesus preached, and smelling the sea where he calmed the storm, makes those passages you’ve read countless times come to life.

With Good Friday and Easter on its way, I can’t help but think back to our trip to Israel last year. I recently read the account in Matthew when Jesus was arrested and could see the Garden of Gethsemane in my mind, with its gnarled olive trees and quiet solitude. After his arrest, Jesus was first taken to Annas’s home and then on to the home of Caiaphas, the high priest. Caiaphas was one of those behind the plot to have Jesus killed (John 18:14, Matthew 26:3-4). Peter stood out in the courtyard and waited to see what would happen.

On our trip to Israel, we went to that courtyard where a statue of a rooster now stands. We then went to an underground prison beneath Caiaphas’s home where Jesus was likely held the night of his arrest. It was a deep, dark pit. There was one light dimly illuminating the room for us, but I could easily imagine what it would have been like turned off. I thought about the time our family went on a tour of a cave in the mountains of Tennessee. At one point on the tour, the guide turned out the lights so we could experience what it was like for gold miners when their lights were extinguished. It was the darkest place I’d ever been. Complete darkness. That’s what I imagine the pit in Caiaphas’s dungeon would be like without electricity. With two dozen of us crowded inside, we read Psalm 88 and sang a hymn. Reading the psalm in the place where Jesus spent his final night before going to the cross, struck me in a way it hadn’t before.

“You have put me in the depths of the pit,
in the regions dark and deep.
Your wrath lies heavy upon me,
and you overwhelm me with all your waves” (Psalm 88:6-7)

Psalm 88 is the darkest of the psalms in the Psalter. Unlike other laments, it doesn’t end with words of praise. Despite its darkness, the psalm has brought me hope over the years when I’ve found myself in my own place of darkness. The mere fact that the psalm is in included in the Bible, and in the songbook of God’s people no less, tells me how compassionate our God is. He knows how fallen our world is. He knows our pain and invites us to share it with him. Our grief and sorrow isn’t neat and tidy. Sometimes we can’t even put our thoughts and emotions into words. But no matter how dark our emotions, we need to cry out to the God who hears us, for he alone is our salvation. As Matthew Henry commented, “before he begins his complaint, he calls God the God of his salvation, which intimates both that he looked for salvation, bad as things were, and that he looked up to God for the salvation and depended upon him to be the author of it.”

Like all of Scripture, each psalm has a here and now meaning for the author who wrote it. Psalm 88 was written by Heman, one of Israel’s worship leaders. As a worship leader, he wrote songs to help God’s people sing to God during all of life’s circumstances, both in the joys and in the sorrows. In Psalm 88, we can see that the psalmist obviously endured a significant trial in his life. He was in despair. He cried out to God day and night. He felt the weight of God’s judgement and the abandonment of his friends. God seemed far away—so far, darkness had become his only friend (v. 18).

But also like all of Scripture, Jesus fulfills Psalm 88. As Luke 24:27 tells us, when Jesus walked on the road to Emmaus with some of the disciples following his resurrection, “And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself.” In Psalm 88, we hear Jesus with his friends in the Garden before his arrest echoing the psalmist, “For my soul is full of troubles, and my life draws near to Sheol” (v. 3). Jesus stepped into the darkness on our behalf. The night he spent in the pit was only the beginning of all that he would endure for us. He felt the full weight of God’s wrath at the cross in our stead. “Your wrath lies heavy upon me, and you overwhelm me with all your waves” (Psalm 88:7). He too was abandoned by his closest friends (v.8). Christ took on the curse of death, the darkest of all pits.

After my visit to that underground pit beneath the home of Caiaphas, I now read Psalm 88 with greater joy than ever before. I still rejoice that I can come to the Father and voice my sorrows, no matter how dark. I still turn to him in lament and ask for his help and rescue, trusting in him as my salvation. But I also rejoice, knowing that my Savior endured greater darkness—God’s wrath for sin—on my behalf.

When it seems as though I’m stuck in a pit of despair, I remember Jesus and the lengths he went to for my redemption. He went to dark places I will never have to go. And for that I rejoice.