Mental Pictures: Psalm 23

I've said it before; words paint pictures. Pictures stick in our heads, like film in a camera. Yep, the mind takes pictures.

Only, sometimes, when the words are familiar ground, we run over that ground too quickly. We don't pause to see the pictures; and when that happens--especially with The Bible--we miss depth and lose meaning.

In keeping my first resolution, I've been going over some old, familiar ground. Refreshing my memory. I've made myself walk slowly, dwelling on the pictures.

Wanna see?

Okay, one at a time, I'll show you two of the most vivid images--the ones that have most recently gotten themselves stuck in my head...

First, the full Scriptures--a wide-angle view. Then, we'll zoom in, for close-ups of small pictures--shots that might be frequently overlooked.
The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

Psalm 23

Of course, these familiar words first conjure images of Jesus as our Shepherd.

Now, let's zoom in: Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies...

When my eyes run over these words, the ones in bold are a table, and the message they carry is Jesus will provide for my needs. That's true. But look at the words before a table.

Thou preparest...

David is still talking about Jesus, so those two words put Jesus in the role of a servant--just as Jesus did, when He washed His disciples feet (John 13:4--5). That brings to mind several pictures.

Jesus as chef, waiter, host. Picture Him. Spreading the tablecloth. Setting the table. Uncovering steaming, heaping platters of food. And no, it’s not all vegetables... Can you see it?

This is not choking down a cold MRE, while hunkered down, in a foxhole, listening for enemy footsteps, and dodging the occasional bullet. This is not a meal ordered through a crackling speaker and eaten from a cardboard box or a styrofoam tray–a meal that’s more grease than meat. This is not a package of crumbling peanut butter crackers that you just yanked from the vending machine–after a ten-minute fight to get that machine to take your money, and another six minutes of pounding, kicking, and shaking to get the machine to let go of your food and give you back your change.

This is a sit-down meal. Tuck your napkin in your collar. Pass the biscuits. Where’s the gravy? More peas, please. That kind of meal. We pick up our forks, prepared to dig in. Mouths watering. And just when we think it can’t get any better, it does. Jesus sits down to eat with us (Rev. 3:20).

The food includes a few of our personal favorites, because the menu is always as individualized as is The Chef’s love for us; and it nourishes our bodies, just as the conversation soothes our hearts and nourishes our souls. That “family time” grows the trust between us and strengthens the ties that bind us.

Finally, look at the end of the phrase: in the presence of mine enemies...

We are meant to relish the meal, in spite of our surroundings... Jesus does not extract us from reality to feed us. He does not give our enemies a happy pill, so they’ll be friendly for the duration of the meal. He gives us one-on-one time. We have His attention and protection. He wants us to be so thoroughly comfortable with Him and comforted by Him that--for the duration of the meal--our enemies’ proximity, their actions, and their attitudes just don’t matter.

Too often, we pass by the laid-out table and flat out run to the vending machine. Then, we turn to The Chef, in wounded dismay, when we find ourselves too weakened and weary to face our next battle.

We say, “You let me down”
He says, “You wouldn’t sit down”

Uummm....

Pass the potatoes, please!!

In The Zone

Let’s talk color. Those of you who are detail oriented most likely noticed that my blog dawned new colors, around the start of the new. I hope that the changes make it easier to read. Bright background colors aren’t very reader-friendly. :) When I finally found the right menu and began to repaint my environment, I chuckled at the irony as the background turned its current (extremely friendly) shade of gray.

"What irony?" you ask.

Well, just as I wielded my paintbrush, the thought occurred, Here goes... living in the gray zone.

Spiritually speaking, the ground that we cover, as we walk through this life, comes in three colors: black, white, and gray.

Before coming to know Christ, our only choice of dwelling space is the black zone, the one that’s devoid of light. After all, Jesus is The Light (John 8:12); and in the absence of light, what else can there be but darkness? Dwelling in that space means moving by feel. Becoming too well acquainted with Pain. Groping instead of growing. More crawling than walking. More falling than finding. Fear saturates every inch of ground, and Hope and Freedom are nowhere to be found.

When we come to know Christ and accept Jesus as Savior, we are no longer trapped in the darkness. We get to move. The white zone opens to us, and we can dwell with Jesus. It is white because it’s filled with Light. When we accept Christ, The Holy Spirit indwells us (John 14:17), and we are drawn toward The Light. We are called to cling to Christ (John 15:5). Do you have a mental image of what "clinging" means? I will give you three.

*Branch to Vine. Separate from the vine branches have no life.

*Cloak to Back. This is the image I get from Jacob’s wrestling match (Genesis 32:23–28). When he refused to let go until The Angel of The Lord blessed him, Jacob (soon to be Israel) was clinging.

*Child to Leg. Ever walked across a room with a child sitting on your foot, while hugging your leg, and finding new pitches to giggle at? Whether he was waiting to be picked up or just wanted to be where you were, that child was clinging. Can you see yourself clinging to Jesus that way? What a picture!

We can cling to Jesus and dwell in the white zone, but often we don’t choose to. Nope. We no longer like or want utter darkness, but because we are constantly struggling against our old nature, gray is more comfortable than the brilliance of white. In the gray zone, there is enough light that we don’t have to grope, but not so much light that we need to squint. We don’t need a lantern, and we don’t need sunglasses. We like that gray zone. We like it a lot! We pitch our tents; build a raging fire; and set up the beach chair, with the drink-holder and the umbrella attached. We break out the marshmallows, roast hot dogs, and smile as we get sticky-fingered from the s’mores. All the while, we sit with our backs to the blackness; and sometimes, we start to mistakenly count ourselves superior, because we are no longer groping back there.

*****

When we first come indoors on a sunny day, it takes time for our eyes to adjust, but once they adjust what was relative darkness seems normal and acceptable. That is the risk of living in the gray zone. From our vantage point, we can see Jesus. We can hear Jesus. If we choose to walk the border between white and gray, we can even touch him. We convince ourselves that touching Him is enough. Who needs to cling? Sometimes, we even forget that we are allowed and called to cling. We get used to less, accept it as normal, and rob ourselves of blessings.

We like to walk those borders: white to gray, and gray to black. It’s like walking a tightrope.

I did again, on the first day of the new year. I know the frustration that Paul was feeling when he wrote Romans 7:18–24a:

For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched man I am!

I was teetering on the boundary between gray and black. It wasn’t enough for me to stand with the toes of my sneakers right on the boundary line, where the ground starts to become dangerously slippery and downright unstable. Nope. I had to play tightrope walker (by exposing my heart to a known temptation). Then, stupidly, (thinking I had more control than I can ever possess, in my own strength) I had to push it even further. I tossed aside the pole that was helping me keep my balance, and I tried to walk that line by hopping on one foot (by letting said temptation linger far too long).

I don’t have to tell you what happened. You already know... I slipped and fell. Face-first. Pretty white sneakers and all. Into the familiar mud of repetitive sin. As I pushed myself to my feet and clumsily made my way back to the white zone, I found that I longed for a touch from Jesus.

As I reached Jesus, shock that I had no right to feel touched my voice; and I said, "I fell down."

Can’t you hear Him saying, "No?! Really?" I can see that eyebrow going up, as He shook His head and took my hand. And once again, He was faithful to do as only He can do, when we fall. He healed the hurt and cleaned off the mud (Psalm 103:12, Isaiah 1:18, 1John 1:9, Hebrews 8:12).

I find that my prayers need to change. "Lord, make me a better tightrope walker," just ain’t cuttin' it. "Lord, make all the ground as firm as the ground where you stand; so I can play wherever I want to, without getting hurt." That don’t work either. That’s like sayin’, "I wanna play in the ocean. Make it so I don’t get wet." Don’t get me wrong. He could do that, but that is not something I ought to ask of Him. I think that falls under the heading of putting God to foolish tests (Matthew 4:7).

Instead, these days, I’m praying along these lines: "Lord, help me not to rank my sin (James 2:10); and help me to hunger for light, more than I long to risk playing on crumbling, slippery ground."

May we all be eager to cling to Christ, like toddlers who cannot get enough. May we find no need for lanterns, but have a constant need for our sunglasses...

Clean Slates

A new year equals a new beginning. A fresh start. A clean slate. Have you ever noticed how much human beings love new beginnings. It starts in youth and never really fades. A new box of crayons, a new puzzle book, a new car, an empty room (yet to be filled with furniture). Simple newness lifts our spirits. Why? Because newness–even in the smallest things–carries with it a grain of hope. Our souls need that hope as surely as our bodies need food and water, and that need is what drives us to make new year’s resolutions.

We resolve. We are determined. We are hopeful. And in short order the majority of us become abject failures. Why? Why do we have such terrible trouble keeping our resolutions? Two reasons:

First, we make the mistake of thinking that a resolution is promise made only to ourselves.

Second, we make the mistake of striving to keep that promise only by drawing from the meager reserve that is our own strength.

Since we know that Jesus does care about the little things–He absolutely does sweat the details–how can doubt that He takes an interest in our resolutions? He sees our resolve; He bears witness to those softly spoken promises, and our priorities matter to Him.

Consult Him, remembering that He longs to bless you, and He’ll put on your heart and plant in your spirit resolutions that will honor Him and grow you. Success comes from leaning on His strength, instead of relying on our will.


For me, putting them in writing also seems to help... So here goes...
Daily Bible study\memorization–that the voice of Jesus will remain familiar, and that I might stay constantly armed against every scheme and arrow of Satan. Help me, Jesus, to remember that every verse memorized is another piece of armor for my spirit, another morsel of food for my soul (Ephesians 6:11-12, Matthew 4:4).






Gym\Diet–Lord, I know that the physical gains I’m making are blessings from You. My continued efforts are a grateful "thank You" for the door that You’ve opened, and for the future that You have for me (Jeremiah 29:11).






Paper letters–

by writing one a week, I will be reminded of the importance of personalized encouragement. Jesus, help me to remember that speed is overrated; and sometimes, the best gift I can offer is a quiet and unhurried moment of my time.

Finally, when I do slip up, it is NOT a license to give up. An error is not an ending, unless we're looking for an excuse to quit! Whatever your goals, may you find the determination to hang on, in spite of your mistakes. Hang in there (even if only by your fingernails)... Only then, do we begin to know how deeply Jesus loves us. Consider

1 John 1:9; and remember that, in the midst of the many-fold blessings that are coming our way, we will forget all about the pain that marks this day.

If you feel like sharing, I’d be interested to know what you have resolved for 2011.