Monday, June 18, 2012

musings on joy and strength

I've been reading Nehemiah these last few days. This morning I was reading in chapter 8. In chapters 6 and 7, the wall was finished, the list of the returned exiles was made, and the totals of the people and gifts were counted. As chapter 8 begins, the people are gathered, and the Law of Moses is read to the assembly. Picking up in chapter 8 verse 9, it says,
"And Nehemiah, who was the governor, and Ezra the priest and scribe, and the Levites who taught the people said to the people, "This day is holy to the Lord your God; do not mourn or weep." For all the people wept as they heard the words of the Law. Then he said to them, "Go your way. Eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions to anyone who has nothing ready, for this day is holy  to our Lord. And do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength." So the Levites calmed all the people, saying, "Be quiet, for this day is holy; do not be grieved." And all the people went their way to eat and drink and to send portions and to make great rejoicing, because they had understood the words that were declared to them." 
Obviously there is a LOT here to look at, but the part that really jumped out at me was the latter part of verse 10: "And do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength." 

These people realized the gravity of the law, and what was required of them, and wept. But they were instructed to not be grieved. To not weep. For in the joy of the Lord was their strength.

I never really thought about joy being strength. Although I knew there was a difference, subconsciously I equated joy with happiness.  Something that passes with change, something without power. But in this true joy is strength. 

John Wesley in his Explanatory Notes expounds on this joy: 
 "Rejoicing in God in serving him with cheerfulness, and thankfulness, which is your duty always. But now especially, [he] will give you that strength both of mind and body which you greatly need, both to perform all the duties required of you, and to oppose all the designs of your enemies."

We have things required of us. There are commands for us to follow, commands that in ourselves we are incapable of following. But our strength consists in joy in the Lord. The better we understand God's word, the more we know Him, the more we find comfort...and strength. 

 So my focus today, and every day should be not on requirements, on lists; not on trying in my own strength. My focus should be on a relationship with Christ, and His word, for in that will I find the joy and strength to obey. 

Thursday, June 14, 2012

{musings}



The beach has always held a certain fascination for me. The salt smell, constant wind-drawn waves, the enormity...the way the roar of the crashing surf somehow creates a sense of perfect peace, of soothing, of renewing…the way it makes me feel so small and insignificant. And I always feel this so much more when the surf is high…

…And more so with riptides.

That strong channel flowing seaward from near the shore, its beginning disguised in the surf line. The thing feared by beginner and seasoned swimmers alike. Interestingly, though, the main danger is not in the tide itself – a rip tide’s main power is close to the surface, and does not actually pull people under; it merely drags an object along until it deposits the object in calm deeper waters. The danger lies in being knocked over by the waves, then unable to surface as the tide draws a person deeper, or in an exhausting escape attempt of the swimmer.

It’s always a disturbing feeling to be pummeled by sand and waves while already under water, twisting, and with nothing to grasp and resurface. But at the same time, it’s an awe-striking feeling – a feeling of insignificance – that something is so powerful to toss a body like nothing more than a bit of seaweed. This ocean that overwhelms people and minute objects with equal ease…

And I think of the hymn that compares Christ’s love to an ocean.

Oh, the deep, deep love of Jesus,
Vast, unmeasured, boundless, free,
Rolling as a mighty ocean
In its fullness over me.
Underneath me, all around me
Is the fullness of Thy love.
Leading onward, leading homeward,
To Thy glorious rest above.


Deep love…not shallow. Not safe love. Deep, and boundless…free, unrestrained, a mighty ocean of love. The song doesn’t say the love flows by, in nice pristine streams whenever you’re interested in acquiring some. It rolls over, overwhelming by its fullness over, underneath, and all around, and we never see an end to it.

And if His love is like an ocean, life must be like the crashing waves and rip tides, because things pummel, twist, and disorient, dragging away from goals, plans, and ideas into unknown waters. Waters we would never venture into of our own accord. If so, then, the danger isn’t in the tide – not in the events, or tears, or pain – the danger is in fighting it. In exhausting ourselves in our own efforts to escape.

And if waves and tides have so much power, how much more does the God of the universe have the power to hold us gently, drawing us by life tides into the calm of His peace?  If He indeed has a perfect plan, are not these waves simply bringing us to our knees before our Creator, and the tides pulling us into His presence? Tearing us out of our comfort zone into places where we can only live through Him who strengthens us?

And they lead us to rest….in His love.



musings on joy and strength

I've been reading Nehemiah these last few days. This morning I was reading in chapter 8. In chapters 6 and 7, the wall was finished, the list of the returned exiles was made, and the totals of the people and gifts were counted. As chapter 8 begins, the people are gathered, and the Law of Moses is read to the assembly. Picking up in chapter 8 verse 9, it says,
"And Nehemiah, who was the governor, and Ezra the priest and scribe, and the Levites who taught the people said to the people, "This day is holy to the Lord your God; do not mourn or weep." For all the people wept as they heard the words of the Law. Then he said to them, "Go your way. Eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions to anyone who has nothing ready, for this day is holy  to our Lord. And do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength." So the Levites calmed all the people, saying, "Be quiet, for this day is holy; do not be grieved." And all the people went their way to eat and drink and to send portions and to make great rejoicing, because they had understood the words that were declared to them." 
Obviously there is a LOT here to look at, but the part that really jumped out at me was the latter part of verse 10: "And do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength." 

These people realized the gravity of the law, and what was required of them, and wept. But they were instructed to not be grieved. To not weep. For in the joy of the Lord was their strength.

I never really thought about joy being strength. Although I knew there was a difference, subconsciously I equated joy with happiness.  Something that passes with change, something without power. But in this true joy is strength. 

John Wesley in his Explanatory Notes expounds on this joy: 
 "Rejoicing in God in serving him with cheerfulness, and thankfulness, which is your duty always. But now especially, [he] will give you that strength both of mind and body which you greatly need, both to perform all the duties required of you, and to oppose all the designs of your enemies."

We have things required of us. There are commands for us to follow, commands that in ourselves we are incapable of following. But our strength consists in joy in the Lord. The better we understand God's word, the more we know Him, the more we find comfort...and strength. 

 So my focus today, and every day should be not on requirements, on lists; not on trying in my own strength. My focus should be on a relationship with Christ, and His word, for in that will I find the joy and strength to obey. 

{musings}



The beach has always held a certain fascination for me. The salt smell, constant wind-drawn waves, the enormity...the way the roar of the crashing surf somehow creates a sense of perfect peace, of soothing, of renewing…the way it makes me feel so small and insignificant. And I always feel this so much more when the surf is high…

…And more so with riptides.

That strong channel flowing seaward from near the shore, its beginning disguised in the surf line. The thing feared by beginner and seasoned swimmers alike. Interestingly, though, the main danger is not in the tide itself – a rip tide’s main power is close to the surface, and does not actually pull people under; it merely drags an object along until it deposits the object in calm deeper waters. The danger lies in being knocked over by the waves, then unable to surface as the tide draws a person deeper, or in an exhausting escape attempt of the swimmer.

It’s always a disturbing feeling to be pummeled by sand and waves while already under water, twisting, and with nothing to grasp and resurface. But at the same time, it’s an awe-striking feeling – a feeling of insignificance – that something is so powerful to toss a body like nothing more than a bit of seaweed. This ocean that overwhelms people and minute objects with equal ease…

And I think of the hymn that compares Christ’s love to an ocean.

Oh, the deep, deep love of Jesus,
Vast, unmeasured, boundless, free,
Rolling as a mighty ocean
In its fullness over me.
Underneath me, all around me
Is the fullness of Thy love.
Leading onward, leading homeward,
To Thy glorious rest above.


Deep love…not shallow. Not safe love. Deep, and boundless…free, unrestrained, a mighty ocean of love. The song doesn’t say the love flows by, in nice pristine streams whenever you’re interested in acquiring some. It rolls over, overwhelming by its fullness over, underneath, and all around, and we never see an end to it.

And if His love is like an ocean, life must be like the crashing waves and rip tides, because things pummel, twist, and disorient, dragging away from goals, plans, and ideas into unknown waters. Waters we would never venture into of our own accord. If so, then, the danger isn’t in the tide – not in the events, or tears, or pain – the danger is in fighting it. In exhausting ourselves in our own efforts to escape.

And if waves and tides have so much power, how much more does the God of the universe have the power to hold us gently, drawing us by life tides into the calm of His peace?  If He indeed has a perfect plan, are not these waves simply bringing us to our knees before our Creator, and the tides pulling us into His presence? Tearing us out of our comfort zone into places where we can only live through Him who strengthens us?

And they lead us to rest….in His love.



 

Designed by Simply Fabulous Blogger Templates