Memories are slippery, formless, and have a far greater capacity to adapt to the need for which they are summoned than the person employing them. My friends are aging at the rate as I am, a day at a time. Some pessimistically use memory to reinforce the "good old days," lamenting change, ruing world conditions, and emptily wishing calendars would roll back and we would all get a "Do over!" Others deliberately employ memories to bolster and reinforce optimism. The past is used as a lexicon of experiences from which events and lessons of another time can be applied while continuously moving forward. Slippery memories accommodate both the pessimist and the optimist, bending to the will of the user.
My memories of Holy Week are considered quaint and irrelevant by many. The fluid, often free-form consistency of my recollections allows me to paint a picture with warm, healing hues of positive experience. I admit that I chose to leave out the hatred-filled conversations overheard about politics because I was uncomfortable then and even more so now. For instance, A senator from Wisconsin conducted horrible witch hunts in congressional chambers, inflamed and divided our nation, and ruined the careers of thousands of Americans. Adults I knew and admired were convinced that John F. Kennedy would be a pawn of the Pope and singlehandedly apostatize our beloved country. A few years later President Kennedy and his brother were assassinated along with a champion of civil rights, Dr. Martin Luther King. The "good old days" weren’t that good!
What warm and healing memories do I recall as we approach Holy Week 2015? Many etched into my lexicon of experiences are from the 50's and 60's. I remember Kresge’s, Woolworth’s and Montgomery Ward closing on Good Friday between noon and 3:00PM. Letter carriers interrupted their rounds. Service stations closed. Nearly every church was open. My father came home from work, dressed and took us to Gratiot Avenue Baptist Church – for three long hours! And then, we went to church in the evening, a particularly tedious two hours of slow songs about the cross and suffering followed by communion. Five hours of church in one day was torturous for a preteen boy, but the hues of memory accommodate me and the experience is now a warm recollection that supports faith and evokes feelings needed today.
My first Holy Week as a pastor was in the Spring of 1967. Our tiny congregation met with nearly a dozen other churches, filling the largest church in town. This newly-wed neophyte was in awe of the much more mature, robed and appropriately somber members of the assembled clergy. I cannot remember which of the "Last Seven Words" to which I was assigned to speak. My memory is in wonderful condition, but I don’t want to remember that first attempt.
When I was a boy my mother and an older sister helped my brother and me color hard-boiled eggs on Saturdays before Easter. I can still smell the vinegar! Do others remember using a wax crayon to write family names on the shells before dipping the eggs into the dye? Using a kind of paisley printed coloring seeped into my lexicon of recollections as I wrote this morning. Baskets with cellophane straw were brought from the attic. Each basket would be filled with candy after I was asleep. The eggs were hidden behind furniture, awaiting our search in the morning. Pat and I followed a similar tradition with our kids!
Ah, they were simple times, but deliberately planned occasions for reinforcing the all-important truth of the Gospel. Saint Paul’s terse statement was strongly at the forefront of our Holy Week observances, "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." (1 Timothy 1:15) There was little concern for being relevant or making sure that unchurched people understood the music. I learned Isaac Watt’s confession of faith and call to worship as a boy as we approached the communion table.
When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.
See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.
It is unlikely that Macy’s, McDonald’s or Menard’s Home Improvement stores will roll back the calendar to accommodate my quaint recollections. But, I do hope that courageous pastors will boldly announce the Message that Jesus died for our sins on the cross, was buried in a borrowed tomb, and was resurrected on the third day. The Gospel was secured in Holy Week. I trust that as my grandchildren grow into adults that they will be able to recall memories that include the songs sung at the communion table and the gloriously triumphant songs of Easter Sundays. Let’s sing Robert Lowery’s almost 200 year-old Easter announcement one more time!
Low in the grave he lay, Jesus my Savior,
waiting the coming day, Jesus my Lord!
Refrain:
Up from the grave he arose;
with a mighty triumph o'er his foes;
he arose a victor from the dark domain,
and he lives forever, with his saints to reign.
He arose! He arose! Hallelujah! Christ arose!
Vainly they watch his bed, Jesus my Savior,
vainly they seal the dead, Jesus my Lord!
Death cannot keep its prey, Jesus my Savior;
He tore the bars away, Jesus my Lord!
I am ready! All together now . . .
As we attended and participated in worship yesterday I had one of my "moments," a sort of spiritual flashback to another time another place, long ago. In typical Pentecostal fashion, several members exhorted us to allow God to freely work within each worshiper. Words like "breakthrough" and "deliverance" were employed, words that have been part of my vocabulary for decades.
While worshiping the Holy Spirit lifted the words of one of the very first songs I remember singing in church. I am able to establish the date at 1949 or 1950. Our family was sitting in the balcony of our church near the corner of Nevada and Van Dyke Streets on Detroit’s East Side. It was a Sunday evening and an aunt from Northern Michigan attended and sang with us.
’Tis the grandest theme through the ages rung;
’Tis the grandest theme for a mortal tongue;
’Tis the grandest theme that the world e’er sung,
"Our God is able to deliver thee."
Refrain:
He is able to deliver thee,
He is able to deliver thee;
Though by sin oppressed, go to Him for rest;
"Our God is able to deliver thee."
’Tis the grandest theme in the earth or main;
’Tis the grandest theme for a mortal strain;
’Tis the grandest theme, tell the world again,
"Our God is able to deliver thee." ’
Tis the grandest theme, let the tidings roll,
To the guilty heart, to the sinful soul;
Look to God in faith, He will make thee whole,
"Our God is able to deliver thee.
As the exhortations and appropriate responses continued through the extended season of worship the words I first remember singing 65 years ago rolled through my spirit with refreshing faith-building assurance. Even though I was the preacher, the Holy Spirit knew that I needed a renewed confidence that the Eternal God was present and powerful, not only in church, but throughout the coming week.
I have observed that crisis "deliverance," or authentic momentary "breakthrough" is the beginning of an extended work of the Spirit. While I am comfortable with the freedom of Spirit-led expression woven into the fabric of Pentecostalism, I also convinced that new habits must follow brief in-church encounters if there will be any long-lasting redemptive result. Often the thing from which we must be delivered is deeply entrenched, habitual, often-repeated behavior. People return home and to their marketplaces, venues where real life happens, are the places where "deliverance" is proven and "breakthrough" is exhibited in a changed life.
Our worship experience yesterday served my spirit well. I crave a deliverance from "stale sameness" that is often part of church worship. As we worshiped a thunderous truth that was originally secured within the spirit of a kindergarten-age boy was lifted by the power of the Holy Spirit and made dynamic and assuring. Smooth musical segues, orchestrated worship plans, and relevant sermon series have a place, but will never deliver people from the "stale sameness" of lives beaten into awkward shapes by destructive behavior. The "Deliverer" must appear and interrupt the sameness of tedious and troubled living.
As a boy I had help: parents, teachers, siblings and friends, who shaped healthy habits, those frequent reinforcements leading to stable behavior and health. The church gathered for worship and led by the Spirit initiated "deliverance" and created "breakthrough" moments, the beginnings of new disciplines and dynamic living. My prayer is, "God, please Lord, cause the words of a song, the truth of your Word grip me in a new way! Deliver us from sameness!"
Around 1980 Pat and I spent a memorable day with Pat’s parents touring the Palisades lining the Hudson River, a New York State Park, and the United States Military Academy, commonly known as West Point. One of the highlights of the weather-perfect summer day was a tour of the military museum on the West Point Campus. The museum is considered the most complete exhibit of its kind anywhere in the world.
One of the realities uncovered as one walks through the various stages of man’s hostility toward one another is that the order of magnitude continuously increases. At the beginning of the thorough and carefully documented history of conflict mankind, one learns that at the beginning men fought face-to-face and hand-to-hand. Cain’s fratricide was certainly a primitive one-on-one, personal conflict ending in Abel’s death.
The war museum carefully documents the evolution of weapons of conflict and death from crude bludgeons to the latest sophisticated, computer-guided missiles and contemporary warheads. The section documenting the machinery and strategies of World War Two slowed our progress to a standstill as my father-in-law, Roy W. Kolas, a veteran of the war, reminisced, telling of his experiences that spanned more than four years and travels across Europe all the way to the "The Bulge." My mother-in-law, Martha, along with Pat, and I had no idea. War became a vivid, real-to-life horror that Roy allowed us to experience it vicariously. I will never forget. The guns fired in John Wayne television movies were noisy things, part of a movie plot were inches away and were frightfully large, ominous and menacing. Photos of destruction and death are etched forever in my memory with Roy Kolas’ sound track playing in the background.
Richard Feynman, a Princeton University graduate physicist, was enlisted by the United States to serve on the team that developed the atomic bomb. Feynman was present at the first detonation of the bomb in a western desert. So awful was the explosive force of the detonation that for years Dr. Feynman slipped into his self-described "depression." He, and some fellow scientists, lamented that evil people would acquire the technology and materials needed to reproduce their prototype and obliterate the world. President Truman elected to eradicate Hiroshima and Nagasaki with the bomb. When Feynman saw men building a bridge or tall building, he often wondered aloud, "What’s the use? It will be destroyed."
The order of magnitude has advanced from weapons made from sticks and stones to unimaginable atomic power. The fratricidal evil in Cain’s heart resides in heads of state. Religious zealots have raised the stakes from a suicide dive-bomber attacking a plane directed at a military supply ship at sea to commandeering a passenger plane to use as a weapon to destroy a city skyline and thousands of citizens. Almost simultaneously, men with simple swords primitively lop off heads because of a shared hate boiling within human hearts.
This week I have read and listened to The Revelation, the Bible’s final Word. While reading and listening simultaneously, I remembered the fears of Dr. Feynman and the experiences of Roy Kolas. The horrors of the end are too awful to imagine. I will leave the time line and sequence of events to those with greater understanding. And, I choose to remember one of my father-in-law’s statements, "Those who lived through what Europeans experienced in the war believe they have lived through tribulation." Fellow Christians who are being beheaded today certainly know that their adversary, the devil, is roaring as a lion, seeking to devour (1 Peter 5:8). And, while evil men have sophisticated tools to kill and destroy, the power of the Gospel of Jesus, the Christ, remains greater than the evil in the most vile human heart and all the weapons deployed to destroy.
Our future on earth is uncertain at best. Let us remember that the One who sits on the throne, Jesus, God’s Son, has declared for all to know an eternal truth that will never be compromised.
The seventh angel sounded his trumpet, and there were loud voices in heaven, which said: "The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he will reign forever and ever."
And the twenty-four elders, who were seated on their thrones before God, fell on their faces and worshiped God, saying: "We give thanks to you, Lord God Almighty, the One who is and who was, because you have taken your great power and have begun to reign. (Revelation 11:15-17).
Take courage friends. Roy Kolas’ confidence in the eternal omnipotence of Jesus is greater than the evil in men that cause the ravages of war. In contrast, Dr. Feynman lived with fear that the wrong people would use an invention he helped develop to destroy civilization. My father-in-law got it right! The word is "courage" friends!
While making my way through some "fun reading" – reading that is not directly tied to my vocation -- I was challenged by Charles Krauthammer’s about ones need of imagination. In his September 24, 2001 Washington Post column, Krauthammer, the sometime Fox News pundit and syndicated Washington Post writer, noted how unprepared the United States was for the terrorist attacks a year earlier. No one could imagine that people would hate our nation and way of life enough to fly airplanes into office buildings with intention to fly into the White House.
Krauthamer observed that by the time the evil, devastating attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon had been accomplished, word was received by the passengers on a flight over Western Pennsylvania. The passengers had to be stunned, but they needed no imagination. So, a few brave men acted courageously and decisively. An attack on the White House was successfully averted because no imagination was needed.
The scenario painted by a newspaper columnist triggered my memory of a verse tucked away in my spirit when I was still a pre-teen. In 2 Corinthians 2:9-10 Paul gave this description of God’s imagination. We are reminded, "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him but God has revealed it to us by his Spirit." The genius, creativity and imagination of God cannot be placed on the same scale as mankind’s senses, knowledge or ability to reach.
We mortals need to remember that simple powerful truth. As we apply another dose of man-made medicine, formulate strategies limited by finite knowledge, and desperately hope for solutions to life’s imponderables, we need to stop, reflect, and trust. In stopping we interrupt what may have been habitual God-limiting behavior. Stopping allows us to ponder, to newly consider the what no mind has conceived. Hope languishes when we get caught up in the web of habit.
In reflection the wonders of God’s past acts move into the present. This morning I sorted through a sizeable stack of business cards. Among the cards was the name, address and business information of a company that was extremely generous toward what was then known as "Highway Ministries." We were renovating the building now housing growing and thriving Resurrection Life Church. We were weary and had worn down teams of people who came to help from as far away as Michigan. The rebuilding process was long and tedious. And then, the unthinkable, what no eye had seen, no ear had heard, no mind had conceived happened before our weary, befogged eyes! A company specializing in pastas and sauces donated nearly all the interior doors hardware and jambs that we needed. I still am stunned and amazed at the imagination and creativity of God.
Many of you know that Pat has Parkinson’s Disease and those with any knowledge of the illness know how difficult and devastating the symptoms are. On occasion I leave the room where Pat is resting and simply and quietly weep. It happened yesterday. The sun had set, Pat and I enjoyed watching our favorite game shows following the evening news, and then I read the article by Mr. Krauthammer, a religious Jew. The idea about needing a better imagination was planted in my spirit. The Holy Spirit took the more-than-14-year-old Washington Post article and said, God has prepared, and will reveal to you, what you cannot yet imagine." Yes! Amen! I will trust the Word of God.
The last item I posted related my experience in a downtown Orlando, Florida church. I promised a follow-up and thought that it would come on the heals of that post. But, I continued to muse and assess what my brother and I had experienced. That took some time!
I thought that I would write about an old song the worship leader led following Charles Wesley’s "O for a Thousand Tongues to Sing." Though the song is beautiful and powerful, the real story is the effectiveness of the worship leader in bringing the congregation face-to-face with the truth of the grace of God. Wesley’s hymn was followed immediately with Haldor Lillenas’ "Wonderful Grace of Jesus." The artistry and skill of the leader urged the congregation to build on "O for a Thousand Tongues."
Allow me to explain what my brother Dennis and I experienced with about 200 others in a 20 minute worship segment. The leader’s explanation of how Wesley’s song came about and was first experienced prompted a deep reverence for the grace of God in my own life. I was ready for what was to come next, but not everyone was!
While singing the first verse, I was little concerned that my brother’s mellow tenor voice and my raspy "whatever" voice made us stand out like people who had recently eaten too much garlic. The last words of the verse waned.
Wonderful grace of Jesus,
Greater than all my sin;
How shall my tongue describe it,
Where shall its praise begin?
Taking away my burden,
Setting my spirit free;
For the wonderful grace of Jesus reaches me.
Refrain
Wonderful the matchless grace of Jesus,
Deeper than the mighty rolling sea;
Wonderful grace, all sufficient for me, for even me.
Broader than the scope of my transgressions,
Greater far than all my sin and shame,
O magnify the precious Name of Jesus.
Praise His Name!
The leader abruptly stopped the accompanying musicians and explained that the grace of God deserved a fullness and depth of worship. With no trace criticism he mentioned, "Men, sing ‘Wonderful!’ The grace of God is why we are here! The musicians were asked to add volume and deliberate emphasis, and the men were asked to stress ‘Wonderful’ playfully asking them to avoid anything that sounded like Lawrence Welk!.He then asked the men to sing, and about 75 or 80 robust men enthusiastically filled the cavernous space with:
Wonderful grace of Jesus,
Reaching to all the lost,
By it I have been pardoned,Saved to the uttermost,
Chains have been torn asunder,
Giving me liberty;
For the wonderful grace of Jesus reaches me.
The ladies joined in the refrain, the organ soared, the piano embellished, but the Spirit of the Living God lifted souls into sin releasing, devil-defying truth. In a staid older congregation I saw hands being lifted and tears form and flow down cheeks. The staid were moved! No one had to say, "God is in the house," or "Someone give praise!" Everyone who has ever been touched by the Holy Spirit knew they stood in the Presence of the Holy!
The last verse was sung with a still greater intensity! I was near to heaven in that moment. We sang:
Wonderful grace of Jesus,
Reaching the most defiled,
By its transforming power,
Making him God’s dear child,
Purchasing peace and heaven,
For all eternity;
And the wonderful grace of Jesus reaches me.
Dennis and I were among about 200 people, but I was face-to-face with the Eternal God. I stood and sang in amazed wonder that I, the "most defiled" was allowed to sing because of a "transforming power" that made me "God’s dear child!" The song wasn’t the most important thing at that moment. As an instrument of the Spirit, the worship leader brought us face-to-face, heart-to-heart and mind-to-mind with the grace of God. At that moment worship happened! The grace and truth of Jesus were in very close proximity. I believe lives were changed. Mine was!
My friend and editor, Bob Neuman, has already asked that we attend this church during our denomination’s General Council later this year. We probably will!
Voices communicate with tones, inflections, and volume. A tone of voice may be snide, sarcastic, soothing, or assuring. By emphasizing a word in a sentence, meaning changes. It seems to me that American Evangelical Christians have become careless in their communication. We have moved from an assuring and soothing gracious voice to one of screaming sarcasm laced with entitlement. We seem to have forgotten the Spirit’s lesson delivered by the Apostle Paul, For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith — and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God — not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. (Ephesians 2:8-9, NIV)
My brother, Dennis, and I worshiped in a downtown church in Orlando, Florida last Sunday because years ago Dennis had collaborated with the church’s newly-installed minister of music. We attended the service because Dennis wanted to spend whatever time he could with the noted musician, and because I wanted to see what accommodations a downtown church made to her surroundings. My brother was thrilled to spend a few minutes with an old acquaintance, I was lifted and moved spiritually, intellectually, and sensually as the music master led the congregation into a deepened appreciation for the grace of God. It was so timely because Dennis and I had discussed in depth about how easy it is to focus on style rather than substance, on "how" rather than "what," and human responses rather than divine presence.
The downtown church building was gorgeous, but dated. Vaulted ceilings, 20' tall windows allowed too much sunlight into the sanctuary to show quality videos, teal green carpet, and white enameled pews point to another time, and pipe organs are simply relics of another era. The first anthem was Charles Wesley’s "O for a Thousand Tongues to Sing," an Evangelical’s "Golden Oldie." The first verse was sung without emotion nor much apparent interest.
O for a thousand tongues to sing
My great Redeemer’s praise,
The glories of my God and King,
The triumphs of His grace!
At the end of the first verse the worship leader did something which makes most pastors begin to pray, seriously and intently, he waved off the musicians and began to talk! Worshipers learned the history of the song in a few short sentences! Charles Wesley wrote the lyrics on the morning of the first anniversary of Wesley’s salvation experience. After completing the stanzas Charles Wesley then rushed into the room where his brother John was very ill and fearing death. Charles read to John –
My gracious Master and my God,
Assist me to proclaim,
To spread through all the earth abroad
The honors of Thy name.
Jesus! the name that charms our fears,
That bids our sorrows cease;
’Tis music in the sinner’s ears,’Tis life, and health, and peace.
He breaks the power of canceled sin,
He sets the prisoner free;
His blood can make the foulest clean,
His blood availed for me.
He speaks, and, listening to His voice,
New life the dead receive,
The mournful, broken hearts rejoice,
The humble poor believe.
Hear Him, ye deaf; His praise, ye dumb,
Your loosened tongues employ;
Ye blind, behold your Savior come,
And leap, ye lame, for joy.
In Christ your Head, you then shall know,
Shall feel your sins forgiven;
Anticipate your heaven below,
And own that love is heaven.
Glory to God, and praise and love
Be ever, ever given,
By saints below and saints above,
The church in earth and heaven.
On this glad day the glorious Sun
Of Righteousness arose;
On my benighted soul He shone
And filled it with repose.
Sudden expired the legal strife,
’Twas then I ceased to grieve;
My second, real, living life
I then began to live.
Then with my heart I first believed,
Believed with faith divine,
Power with the Holy Ghost received
To call the Savior mine.
I felt my Lord’s atoning blood
Close to my soul applied;
Me, me He loved, the Son of God,
For me, for me He died!
I found and owned His promise true,
Ascertained of my part,
My pardon passed in heaven I knew
When written on my heart.
Look unto Him, ye nations, own
Your God, ye fallen race;
Look, and be saved through faith alone,
Be justified by grace.
See all your sins on Jesus laid:
The Lamb of God was slain,
His soul was once an offering made
For every soul of man.
Awake from guilty nature’s sleep,
And Christ shall give you light,
Cast all your sins into the deep,
And wash the Ethiop white.
Harlots and publicans and thieves
In holy triumph join!
Saved is the sinner that believes
From crimes as great as mine.
Murderers and all ye hellish crew
In holy triumph join!
Believe the Savior died for you;
For me the Savior died.
With me, your chief, ye then shall know,
Shall feel your sins forgiven;
Anticipate your heaven below,
And own that love is heaven.
Time allotted for music allowed the congregation to sing only four of Wesley’s 18 verses. This worshiper has been musing on the effect of a brother sweeping heavy curtains aside and the sunlight of a new morning pouring into a sickroom. John, on that morning was certain of imminent death, lived for more than 50 years afterward! Imagine Charles excitedly saying, "John, listen to this!" and powerful presence of the Eternal God filling a death chamber with life!
Fears and sorrows have met their Master. Jesus is the music to this sinner’s ears! Sin is canceled, deaf sing, the church in heaven and earth sing of wondrous glory. Once harlots, murderers, and thieves, we now feel our sins forgiven! That’s the message! That ought to be the consuming thought and theme of song and sermon, GRACE! Political systems have thrived and tumbled, monetary systems have known boom and bust, movements have peaked and plummeted, but the grace of God endures forever! Peter was the Lord’s spokesman when he reported, "But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy." (1 Peter 2:9-10) Let us rise up and worship because of the Message of GRACE!
We have an opportunity to recalibrate our tone, renew an emphasis on the message of GRACE! The marketplace has heard enough shrill demands of entitlement. Our message is GRACE!
More about our Orlando church experience next time . . .
Have you ever wondered, "Should peace be an objective or a by-product?" When perusing Christian book titles, the consensus seems to be that it is the goal toward which Christians rightfully strive. More than a few titles suggest steps, systems and sermon series to the holy grail of peace. Most books are printed in the United States or other nations with highly-developed economies. I wonder if publishers enjoy booming sales because, in addition to economic factors in their homelands, the culture embraces peace as an entitlement, something one deserves.
"Well," one might challenge, "Doesn’t the Bible teach that the fruit of the Spirit is ‘love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self–control?’" (Galatians 5:22-23.) Yes, it does, but from what context is that statement lifted? The assurance of the fruit of the Spirit is centered between the acts of the sinful nature – really ugly, self-serving, egocentric stuff (Galatians 5:16-21) – and, the fact that the fruit is found in those who have "crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires" (Galatians 5:24). The paragraph continues with, "Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit." (Galatians 5:25) The context suggests that love, joy, peace and other fruit of the Spirit result when one discards the morally unacceptable, refuses to be self-centered, and obeys the Spirit fully.
Against this backdrop, this morning I scrambled around sorting through my messy closet of personal experiences and opinions. I turned to King David. The Israeli king may not be a typical poster boy for peace, but he is usually credited with writing, "He leadeth me beside the still waters," (Psalm 23:2 KJV) an often-quoted verse in contemporary steps-to-peace literature and teaching. How can a man write so eloquently of peace when his story includes wrestling with wild animals to protect his sheep, taking on Goliath when apparently outmatched, serving and then running from an unappreciative and paranoid sitting king, and leading armies in horrific battles? I wonder, "David, are you serious?"
Psalm four serves to illustrate a dimension of David’s experience. Verse one begins the song of worship with,
"Answer me when I call to you,
O my righteous God.
Give me relief from my distress;
Be merciful to me and hear my prayer."
The middle verses speak of cultural dysfunctions, simple messes like distortions, "turn glory into shame", delusions, "false gods", and disillusionment: "Who can show us any good?" This doesn’t point to peace to me! But, the concluding stanza, verse eight, brings the song to a faith-building crescendo,
"I will lie down and sleep in peace,
for you alone, O LORD,
Make me dwell in safety."
David’s song says, "Peace is present regardless of the challenge before us." Verses four and eight include bedtime assurances from a man who slept knowing that Saul was a few yards away breathing hatred and wishing David dead.
New Testament figures challenge me. Stephen was at peace while his breath was being pounded out of his body, by stones thrown by Jesus-hating zealots. When the Apostle Paul thought of shipwrecks, imprisonments, beatings, and other "inconveniences," he wrote, "I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us" (Romans 8:18). John saw heaven open and experienced the revelation of Jesus on Patmos, a penal colony. The common denominator among the saints in Scripture was that all were living in obedience and all were at peace!
The world is continuously in pursuit of peace. And, sadly, the Western Christian world suggests peace is a destination, a goal to be achieved, rather than an expected outcome of living obediently. My friend, Pastor Bob Neuman of Lansing Assembly of God (Lansing, IL), quotes John Newton, "I am still in the land of the dying; I shall be in the land of the living soon." I am thinking that peace comes as I "crucify the sinful nature with its passions and desires," a way of saying, "‘Yes, Lord,’ and ‘No, Otto!’" Love, joy, peace and other fruit of the Spirit all flow out of a "Yes Lord!" obedience.
