“But God will never forget the needy; the hope of the afflicted will never perish” (Psalm 9:18).

This song comes from the harp of David the shepherd boy, not composed while he was tending sheep, but already a star in Israel. His success was growing. When he returned from battle, the women of Israel met him singing, "David has killed tens of thousands."

What does David do with his success? How does he respond when his enemies trip over their own feet hastily getting away from him? Does David gloat or get a big head?

No! David attributes his success to God. His victories are God's doing. When David fights enemies, he sees them as God's enemies, as those who stand opposed to God's purposes. God is accomplishing his purposes through David.

The establishment of David as king in Israel is a miniature foreshadowing of Jesus being established as King of Kings. In the gospels, Jesus is presented as the ultimate Son of David through whom God will fulfill all His promises. Like David, Jesus did not push himself towards kingship. He went about his ministry of humility, as Paul says in Philippians 2, until God raised him up.

One day, Jesus will be fully established as King of Kings; one day all will acknowledge him as such.

Until such a time, there will be conflict on this earth between those for and against Jesus. In this psalm, David focuses on those who are oppressed and those who do the oppressing. To put it differently, those who get ahead by walking over other people versus those who get walked on.

The hope for the oppressed is in God and his kingdom as Jesus will later express in the beatitudes. This hope calls us to prayer. When we see people oppressed, whether close by or far away, our first response is to pray for God’s kingdom to come.

It also calls us to remind our governments that they have a duty to establish laws that promote a just society for all. As members of God’s kingdom, we cannot simply sit on the side lines and watch. We are called to fight for the oppressed, using the tools and weapons of the kingdom, not with swords like Peter once attempted. Swords can come in many different forms. We believe that hope for this world is not in governments, nor in swords, nor in laws, but in Jesus Christ.

This hope for the afflicted also calls us to examine our own hearts. As Paul regularly reminds us, our battle is not against flesh and blood, but against power and principalities. That battle is waged first in our own hearts. As Paul also wrote, “Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me” (Romans 7:21). We can’t fight for the kingdom if we don’t first engage in the battle within our own hearts.

Thus, this hope for the afflicted invites us to examine who we are. Are we the kind of people who will walk over others to get ahead? How many have been belittled because of us? Are we willing to get involved with the afflicted and oppressed? Are we willing to get our hands dirty in the work of God’s kingdom?

As you journey on, go with the blessing of God:

May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you, wherever he may send you. May he guide you through the wilderness, protect you through the storm. May your day end with rejoicing at the wonders he has shown you. May you rest in his provision as he brings night, and then new dawn.

Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger or discipline me in your wrath. Your arrows have pierced me, and your hand has come down on me. … All my longings lie open before you, Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you. My heart pounds, my strength fails me; even the light has gone from my eyes. My friends and companions avoid me because of my wounds; my neighbors stay far away. … Lord, I wait for you; you will answer, Lord my God. … Lord, do not forsake me; do not be far from me, my God. Come quickly to help me, my Lord and my Savior. (Psalm 38:1-2, 9-11, 15, 22)

In the aftermath of a traumatic experience, a swirl of emotions, thoughts, and questions gush through us. Psalm 38 strikes me as kind of like that.

One thread seems to ask: is this my fault? Did I sin or do something wrong? Did I fail to do something that I should have? Am I being punished?

Another thread sees an enemy at work. The enemy is scheming, lying, seeking to do harm.

Yet another thread simply laments: my strength fails, the light is gone from my eyes. Even my friends and neighbours avoid me. The loneliness and emptiness we can feel in times of grief.

But it seems like the place that the psalm finally ends—which is also the place it begins—is with God. The psalmist recognizes that no matter what our circumstances, no matter what our sins are or aren’t, no matter our need: it all ultimately has to do with God. The buck stops at his door.

Our confession comes to God. Our provision, healing, and help come from God. Our salvation from trouble, enemies, sin, and evil come from God. Our very life is a gift of God. But perhaps the hard times we face are also in some way allowed by God too: because if he really is the King and ruler of this world—then the buck stops at his door.

And so the psalmist—faced with the pain, the evil, and the traumatic griefs of this world—turns to God as the one with whom we all have ultimately to do. “Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger or discipline me in your wrath. Your arrows have pierced me, and your hand has come down on me.” And you know this Lord, you see it. “All my longings lie open before you… my sighing is not hidden from you.”

Slowly, as the psalmist’s words pour out before God, the confused threads weave together into a prayer of submission and trust that cries out for salvation. “Lord, I wait for you; you will answer, Lord my God. … do not forsake me… come quickly to help me, my Lord and my Savior.”

Most of the awful or traumatic moments of our lives have to be wrestled out prayerfully with God in just this sort of Psalm 38 way. Not just once, but over and over again as the confused threads of our hearts and questions flow all over one another. But slowly, in bringing it out of our hearts and minds and offering it up before God, our unknowing is every so slowly transformed into a trustful waiting in God.

As you journey on, go with the blessing of God:

May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you : wherever he may send you.
May he guide you through the wilderness : protect you through the storm.
May he bring you home rejoicing : at the wonders he has shown you.
May he bring you home rejoicing : once again into our doors.

Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart (Psalm 37:4).

These words have been carved on many a plague to adorn our kitchen walls and encased in picture frames for our living rooms. Sometimes preachers will choose it for a sermon text, leaving their congregations with the impression that if they just love the Lord enough, all will be well with them. As they define wellness.

The trouble is that these words are often ripped out of the context in which they have been passed down to us. Psalm 37 is not a “Don’t worry, be happy” kind of prayer. It begins, “Do not fret because of evil men or be envious of those who do wrong...”

It’s not about God giving us what we want. It is about worry, or rather, moving towards a worry-free life. But even that is not quite accurate. This psalm invites us towards lives in which we exchange despair for hope. Notice that its not quite a prayer, not directed towards God. If anything, it is directed towards God’s community of faith.

Why is despair so prevalent in this song? Because of evil and people who commit evil. They are everywhere and appear to have the upper hand. They commit acts of injustice, and they get away with it. Such people seem to have all the power, and the powerless simply get walked on.

In inviting us away from worry, and, I think, uncontrollable rage at injustice, the psalmist views life from the perspective of God’s promises, his commitment to bring justice, in his own time.

This psalmist is getting impatient. We can relate to that: all the places in the world where human conflict is creating refugees and the constant killings in our communities are just a few examples. But also, the tragedy of cancer, roadway accidents, and the deaths of those still in the prime of life. We can relate to the psalmist’s desire for justice now.

As the piece is composed, this singer remembers that in the end, evil doers will get their due. And the righteous will inherit the land. Jesus’ beatitude, "Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth" (Matthew 5:5) is a succinct summary of this psalm.

Why doesn’t the psalmist just give us Jesus’ synopsis instead of going on and on? It’s formed around the 22 letters of the Hebrew language, so as we read it and pray it, our hearts slow down. As our brain waves follow suit, we ingest the truth that God will set all things right in His time. God did say, "I am making all things new" (Revelation 21:5).

Along the way, we are offered advice that leads towards less worry: trust God (3), he is able and willing to bring justice; commit your lives to Him (5), entrusting our plans and futures into the loving arms of our heavenly Father. When Jesus said, “I am with you always, to the very end of the age”, he was echoing one of the deepest melodies of the Old Testament.

We are encouraged to take delight in him (4), so that our desires change. We lose our own evil intentions and long only for the righteousness of His kingdom. God will fulfill those desires.

There is no mocking of grief here. There is a deep recognition that much is wrong in this world. The message is strong: evil will not have the final say. God’s justice will come. God’s justice means no more sickness and no more death, no more hunger and no more poverty. God himself will dry our tears.

Read this psalm again considering the visions of the new heaven and the new earth in the final chapters of Isaiah and Revelation. Let hope fill your heart!

As you journey on, go with the blessing of God:

May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you, wherever he may send you. May he guide you through the wilderness, protect you through the storm. May your day end with rejoicing at the wonders he has shown you. May you rest in his provision as he brings night, and then new dawn.

A Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text of Matthew 7:24-29. Dive In discussion questions are below for further reflection!

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca.

1. How is your life an ongoing act of worship to Jesus?
2. How would you describe his glory? What five words would you choose?
3. Who would be considered the ‘outsiders’ in your community? How can you reach out to them as an individual? As a community?
4. Identify two ways that you can more intentionally worship Jesus with your everyday life.
5. Identify one person (or group) that needs to experience the love of Jesus. Follow the pattern of Jesus and reach beyond yourself to the outcasts in your community.

Looking at his disciples, he said:
“Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.
Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied.
Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.
Blessed are you when people hate you, when they exclude you and insult you and reject your name as evil, because of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven. For that is how their ancestors treated the prophets.
But woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort.
Woe to you who are well fed now, for you will go hungry.
Woe to you who laugh now, for you will mourn and weep.
Woe to you when everyone speaks well of you, for that is how their ancestors treated the false prophets. (Luke 6:20-26)

This is Luke’s version of the Sermon on the Mount, usually referred to as the Sermon on the Plain because Luke sets the scene with Jesus standing on a level place. After withdrawing for prayer, Jesus has just named and called his twelve disciples and now he teaches them, along with a whole crowd of others from around the land.

In Matthew’s version of the beatitudes: that’s all they are, beatitudes. Blessings. But here in Luke we get both sides of the coin. Blessings and woes. And the woes get a little close to home.

This is an unavoidable theme in the gospel of Luke. “He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty” says Mary in her song, the Magnificat, at the beginning of the gospel (Luke 1:53). Jesus similarly declares in Luke 4 that his mission is to “proclaim good news to the poor” (Luke 4:18). And unlike Matthew’s beatitudes where it is the “poor in spirit” who are blessed: Luke unavoidably refers to the materially, economically poor. The people who are physically hungry from malnutrition. There is no spiritualizing Jesus’ words. Which means that we can’t wriggle ourselves out of the woes on the rich either.

Who can deny that the majority of us have received our good material comforts from a disposable income most of the rest of the world would call wealth? Who can deny that three square meals a day equates to being well fed? Who can avoid the fact that having the disposable time to binge watch the Olympics or participate in whatever other entertainment or gatherings with friends and family has led to a relatively easy life of laughter and joy?

Do we also have our sorrows and hardships? Of course we do, but nothing more than is common to the rest of humanity. What we have that is not common to the rest of humanity however, is peace, security, health care, opportunity, and financial stability, even wealth.

So what are we to do with this teaching of Jesus that seems to single us out for woes and future disaster? Are we left to just feel guilty for living where we do and having what we have?

No, I don’t think so. Jesus’ mission statement from chapter 4 draws on Isaiah 58. It seems to me that Luke has Isaiah 58 in mind in chapter 5 and 6 of his gospel as well. In what precedes this text Jesus talks about fasting, Sabbath, poverty and wealth. What comes after is commentary on a generous life. That’s Isaiah 58 in a nutshell, where one of the central invitations is to “spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed.”

It’s not wrong to have wealth. But Jesus always invites us to remember that we who have it are only trustees of something that does not actually belong to us. Like Joseph overseeing the grain distribution in Egypt—wealth is entrusted to us by God so that we might distribute it to its intended recipients according to his direction. This, I think is Jesus’ kingdom intent: that we spend ourselves and all that has been entrusted to us on behalf of those who are poor, hungry, and weeping from oppression.

As you journey on, go with the blessing of God:

May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you : wherever he may send you.
May he guide you through the wilderness : protect you through the storm.
May he bring you home rejoicing : at the wonders he has shown you.
May he bring you home rejoicing : once again into our doors.

“I look for your deliverance, Lord” (Genesis 49:18).

Many Biblical scholars don’t like this verse much. It doesn’t fit, you see. Most of Genesis 49 is the record of Jacob blessing his sons from his deathbed. In the middle of this monologue directed towards his sons, he has this line directed towards God, “Lord, I look to you to save me”. It could also be rendered, “I wait in hope for your salvation, Lord God.”

There is something very curious about this little prayer: it’s the only time the name, ‘The Lord God’, is used in this chapter. In fact, it hasn’t been used since chapter 39 and it won’t be used again until the book of Exodus. We’re talking here about the covenant name of God, through which he bound himself to Abraham and his descendants. We also know it as YHWH.

The verses surrounding our text make references to attacks. In both attacks, the targets are heels. Is that important? I think so. As you may know, Jacob was the younger twin. He was born, ‘grasping his brother’s heel’. Jacob means, “grasping the heel” (Genesis 25:26).

Jacob spent much of his life grasping for things, trying to get ahead. This resulted in the breakdown of relationships: first with his brother, then between his wives, then with his uncle and then between his sons. His sons were now following his example. He sees both Dan and Gad, the sons referenced in these verses, in tenuous positions, striking at the heel of those more powerful than they are.

Perhaps those thoughts led Jacob to express this hope for deliverance.

In this story of Joseph being sold as a slave to Egypt, the Lord God, has been relegated to the shadows. Is Jacob calling upon the Lord to come out into the open? Is Jacob saying that the only hope for his tribe when he dies is the Lord God?

“I’ve made a mess,” it seems Jacob is saying, “Lord, you will need to clean it up.” I think that this may indeed be what Jacob is saying.

And it’s a good word for today. God’s people are still much like Jacob, we make a mess of things. We grasp for things, especially power. Whether its on the school playground, in the sports complex, in the workplace, many of us get sucked in by the desire to be on the top, the most important, most accomplished. Getting to the top rarely happens without pushing others down.

Ask non-Christians what they think about us, and the response is rarely positive. The day I prepared this devotion, Bruxey Cavey made it into the local newspaper again. The church he once pastored cannot get abuse liability insurance because of the accusations against him. The ministries have been reduced to online only.

The church today is just like Jacob’s sons, messed up and making messes. We shouldn’t make excuses for any of it. Its bad and we need to acknowledge this. But there is hope, our Lord God, who has bound himself to us in Christ Jesus; he will finish his work of redemption. Like Jacob we cry out, ““I wait in hope for your salvation, Lord God.” And with the Spirit we pray, “Come, Lord Jesus, come.”

As you journey on, go with the blessing of God:

May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you, wherever he may send you. May he guide you through the wilderness, protect you through the storm. May your day end with rejoicing at the wonders he has shown you. May you rest in his provision as he brings night, and then new dawn.

Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.
Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.
(Deuteronomy 6:4-5)

This text is known as “The Shema.” It is so named for it’s first word in Hebrew which is, “shema,” the Hebrew word for listening and obeying. Jews of later years would recite these words twice every day—once in the morning and then again in the evening.

You will also recognize these words, of course, as that “first and greatest commandment” that Jesus gives in the New Testament. How can he name the Shema as greater than any of the Ten Commandment Words that come just before this in Deuteronomy 5, you may wonder? Well, it’s because in some way, this command to love the Lord firstly, only, and completely is the inverse, positive version of the “you shall nots” that began the Ten Words of the Covenant in chapter 5.

The Ten Words, aside from the command to “observe the Sabbath” and “honour parents” are all negative commands—prohibitions that tell us what not to do. Once our life and heart have been swept clean in this way however, it’s important that something positive and constructive comes in. The Shema is just that sort of command. In the ever-growing absence of covetousness and idols from your heart and life, a positive love for the Lord your God is to take up residence instead. Indeed, if Jesus is to be taken seriously, this positive love for the Lord may in fact be that thing that drives the lusts and the idols from our hearts. This positive force of love for the God who has first loved us is the power that enables us to keep faith with the Ten Words of the Relational Covenant.

It really is fascinating what Jesus does here by naming the Shema as the first and greatest of commands. There is a sense in which the Shema is simply a summation of the Ten Words. In that case, we might say that Jesus is simply naming the Covenant with its Ten Words as primary to everything else. But there is also a sense in which the Shema differs from the Ten Words. A sense in which a positive command is different from a negative one. A sense in which a proactive love is more significant to shaping the direction of a life than a limiting prohibition. It may be too much to say, but I do wonder if the difference is like unto the difference between the negative, limiting law which brings death, and the positive, constructive force of the Spirit that brings life.

Think of it: pruning and growing. Emptying and filling. Deconstructing and Reconstructing. Both are part of the rhythm of life, and both necessarily have their place. But life is no life at all if the “pruning” itself is the ultimate goal for the plant. No, the pruning, the cutting back, the emptying, the prohibitions always serve a goal other than themselves—namely the goals of life, growth, filling, and flourishing relationships. The emphasis does not finally fall on the limiting prohibitions of the law, but on the gracious growth enabled by the Spirit. Both the pruning prohibitions and the imperatives to growth have their place, but Jesus places the emphasis finally on that growth imperative of love: The Shema.

At times we pit these two impulses against each other, as if one must win out at the total exclusion of the other. Many of our present church conflicts and culture wars revolve around such false dichotomies. But the scriptures always hold these two in a dialectic tension. The two impulses have to remain in dialogue with each other, as they do in Deuteronomy 5 and 6. Neither can be flattened nor excluded. And yet, Jesus reminds us that one impulse is to be the leading partner in the dance—the impulse to whom the other defers.

“’Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22:37-40)

As you journey on, go with the blessing of God:

May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you : wherever he may send you.
May he guide you through the wilderness : protect you through the storm.
May he bring you home rejoicing : at the wonders he has shown you.
May he bring you home rejoicing : once again into our doors.

“O Lord, you have seen this; do not be silent. Do not be far from me, Lord. Awake, and rise to my defense! Contend for me, my God and Lord. Vindicate me in your righteousness, Lord my God” (Psalm 35:22-24).

Once again David is in trouble. It seems like his life is nothing but trouble. Many of his Psalms are requests for liberation. And David thinks God tends to be slow in responding to his pleas. Sound familiar?

The bold opening of this prayer is worth some reflection. David asks God to fight against his enemies. Have we ever made such a prayer? Would we? Should we? What should such prayers sound like today? What would we want God to do with our enemies?

Further, should God consider our enemies His enemies? Maybe we ought to turn that around: do we consider God's enemies our enemies?

Certainly, these reflections ought to be tempered with the biblical instructions to love our enemies and to bless them (Romans 12:9-12). What would it look like for God to bless our enemies? How would we articulate a prayer for God to do good by them?

As we read this psalm, it is difficult to miss David's impatience. He is being harassed from all sides. He is wearied to the bone by the mocking taunts of his accusers. He wants some relief, some space, some quiet. And he tells God that he wants it now.

Yet, the psalm weaves together despair and hope. The despair comes because of those who stand against him. At least some of these have been close friends, people he has prayed for (13). David is distressed because of their schemes, slander, and scorn. They are scheming against him, they are making false accusations against him, and they are laughing at him, gloating over his anticipated downfall.

Yet, as he voices his complaint, David's perspective began to change. Hope is born. He begins to anticipate the day when God will respond. He remembers that God takes care of "the poor and needy" (10).

David’s perspective is enlarged as he waits on God. So often we live in the moment and the pains of life make everything revolve around "the now." But God has a better perspective. There may be more important things at hand than our immediate relief. Like David, we need to learn to wait on the Lord. While we wait, we remember who he is.

As David waits for the Lord's deliverance, he does not hide. Instead, he enters the company of the faithful. Like good food, sorrows and pains need to be shared. It is too difficult to carry them alone. We do well to develop the friendships that can be counted on in trouble. Yet, for David, at least some of these friends turned against him.

Maybe some of you can relate to David. Or maybe you have let your friends down. You left them alone in their time of sorrow. An admission of guilt is a good way to start afresh. Into his complaint, lament, David weaves hints of praise. Even as he wrestles with God's silence, he insists that he is a worshipper of the Lord God. Though he has no clue as to what God may be up to, though he can't fathom God's silence, he will continue to put his hope in the Lord.

As you journey on, go with the blessing of God:

May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you: wherever he may send you. May he guide you through the wilderness: protect you through the storm. May he bring you home rejoicing; at the wonders he has shown you. May he bring you home rejoicing once again into our doors.