“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not
for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11)
Dis changes everything. With dis, "obey" becomes "disobey,” and “respect" is changed to
"disrespect." What was an
"ability" becomes a "disability,"
and "grace" is transformed into "disgrace." All because of dis.
You'd be hard-pressed to find a more potent trio of letters, and pressed harder
still to find a better example of their power than the word “appointment.” Most
of us like appointments. Even the organizationally challenged like
appointments. Appointments create a sense of predictability in an unpredictable
world. We know we don’t actually control our future, but our calendars give us
the illusion that we do. A disappointment, on the other hand, reminds us that
we don't.
A disappointment
is a missed appointment. What we hoped would happen, didn't. We wanted health;
we got disease. We wanted retirement; we got reassignment. Dismissal instead of
promotion. So what do we do with our disappointments? We could do what Miss
Haversham did. Remember her in Charles Dickens's Great Expectations? Jilted by her fiancé just prior to the wedding,
her appointment became a missed appointment and a disappointment. She didn’t
respond well. She closed all the blinds in the house, stopped every clock, left
the wedding cake on the table to gather cobwebs, and continued to wear her
wedding dress until it hung in yellow decay around her shrunken form. Her wounded
heart consumed her life. We can follow the same course. Or we can follow the
example of the apostle Paul.
His goal was to
be a missionary in Spain. But rather than send Paul to Spain, God sent him to
prison, instead. Sitting in a Roman jail, Paul could have made the same choice
as Miss Haversham, but he didn't. Instead he said, "As long as I'm here, I
might as well write a few letters." Hence our Bible has the letters to
Philemon, the Philippians, the Colossians, and the Ephesians. No doubt Paul
would have done a great work in Spain, but would it have compared with the work
of those four letters?
You've sat where
Paul sat. You were hotter than a firecracker on the trail to Spain, or college,
or marriage, or independence. But then came the layoff, or the pregnancy, or
the sick parent. And you ended up in prison. So long, Spain. Hello, Rome. So
long, appointment. Hello, disappointment. Hello, pain. And how did you handle
it? Better yet, how are you handling it? Could you use some help? Six words in
the fifth verse of the Twenty-third Psalm may help: "You anoint my head
with oil." Huh? What does a verse on oil have to do with the hurts that
come from the disappointments of life? A little lesson in animal husbandry might
help.
In ancient
Israel shepherds used oil for three purposes: to repel insects, to prevent
conflicts and to heal wounds. Bugs bug people, but they can kill sheep. Flies,
mosquitoes and gnats can turn the summer into a time of torture for the
livestock. Consider nose flies, for example. If they succeed in depositing
their eggs into the soft membrane of the sheep's nose, the eggs become wormlike
larvae, which drive the sheep insane. One shepherd explains: "For relief
from this agonizing annoyance sheep will deliberately beat their heads against
trees, rocks, posts, or brush. . . . In extreme cases of intense infestation, a
sheep may even kill itself in a frenzied endeavor to gain respite from the
aggravation."
In other words,
when a swarm of nose flies appears, sheep panic. They run. They hide. They toss
their heads up and down for hours. They forget to eat. They aren't able to
sleep. Ewes stop milking, and lambs stop growing. The entire flock can be
disrupted, even destroyed by the presence of a few flies. For this reason, the
shepherd anoints the sheep. He covers their heads with an oil-like repellent.
The fragrance keeps the insects at bay and the flock at peace. At peace, that
is, until mating season.
Most of the
year, sheep are calm, passive animals. But during mating season, everything changes.
The rams put the "ram" in rambunctious.
They strut around the pasture and flex their necks, trying to win the attention
of the new gal on the block. When a ram catches her eye, he tosses his head
back and says, "I want ewe, baby." About that time her boyfriend
shows up and tells her to go someplace safe. "Ewe better move, baby. This
could get ugly." The two rams lower their heads and POW! – an old-fashioned
head butt breaks out. To prevent injury in these circumstances, the shepherd
anoints the rams. He smears a slippery, greasy substance over the nose and
head. This lubricant causes them to glance off rather than crash into each
other. They still tend to get hurt, however. And these wounds are the third
reason the shepherd anoints the sheep.
Most of the
wounds the shepherd treats are simply the result of living in a pasture. Thorns
prick, or rocks cut, or a sheep rubs its head too hard against a tree. Sheep
get hurt. As a result, the shepherd regularly, often daily, inspects the sheep,
searching for cuts and abrasions because he doesn't want the cut to worsen. He
doesn't want today's wound to become tomorrow's infection. And neither does
God.
Just like sheep,
we have wounds, but ours are wounds of the heart that come from disappointment
after disappointment. If we're not careful, these wounds lead to bitterness. “Let
us not become conceited, provoking one another, being jealous of one another.”
(Gal. 5:26) And so just like sheep, we need to be treated. "He made us,
and we belong to him; we are his people, the sheep he tends." (Ps. 100:3) You
see, sheep aren't the only ones who need preventive care, and sheep aren't the
only ones who need a healing touch.
We also get
irritated with each other, butt heads, and then get wounded. Many of our
disappointments in life begin as simple irritations. The large portions of our
problems are not lion-sized attacks, but rather the day-to-day swarm of
frustrations and mishaps and heartaches. You don't get invited to the dinner
party; you don't make the team; you don't get the scholarship; your boss
doesn't notice your hard work; your husband doesn’t notice your new dress; your
neighbor doesn’t notice the mess in his yard. You find yourself more irritable,
more gloomy, more … well, hurt. Like the sheep, you don’t sleep well, you don’t
eat well. You may even hit your head against a wall a few times. Or you may hit
your head against a person. It's amazing how hardheaded we can be with each
other.
Some of our
deepest hurts come from butting heads with people. Like the sheep, the rest of
our wounds come just from living in the pasture of our world. The sheep have to
face wounds from thorns and thistles. We have to face aging, loss and illness.
Some of us face betrayal and injustice. Live long enough in this world and most
of us will face deep, deep hurts of some kind or another. So we, like the
sheep, get wounded. And we, like the sheep, have a shepherd. Remember the words
of the Psalm? "We belong to him; we are his people, the sheep he tends."
(Ps. 100:3)
He will do for
you what the shepherd does for the sheep. He will tend to you. If the Gospels
teach us anything, they teach us that Jesus is a Good Shepherd. "I am the
good shepherd," Jesus announces. "The good shepherd gives his life
for the sheep." (John 10:11) Didn't Jesus spread the oil of prevention on
his disciples? He prayed for them. He equipped them before he sent them out. He
revealed to them the secrets of the parables. He interrupted their arguments
and calmed their fears. Because he was a good shepherd, he protected them
against disappointments. But not only did Jesus prevent wounds, he healed them.
He touched the eyes of the blind man. He touched the disease of the leper. He
touched the body of the dead girl. He touched the searching heart of Nicodemus.
He touched the open heart of Zacchaeus. He touched the broken heart of Mary
Magdalene. He touched the confused heart of Cleopas. He touched the stubborn
heart of Paul, and the repentant heart of Peter. Jesus tends to his sheep. And
he will tend to you. If you’ll let him. But how?
First, go to
him. David would trust his wounds to no other person than God. He said, "You anoint my head with oil." Not,
"your prophets," "your teachers," or "your
counselors." Others may guide us to God. Others may help us understand
God. But no one does the work of God, for only God can heal. God "heals
the brokenhearted." (Ps. 147:3) You've likely shared your disappointments with
your neighbor, your relatives or your friends. But have you taken them to God?
James says, "Anyone who is having troubles should pray." (James 5:13)
Before you go anywhere else with your disappointments, go to God.
But maybe you
don't want to trouble God with your hurts. After
all, he's got famines and pestilence and wars; he won't care about my little
struggles, you think. Why don't you let him decide that? He cared enough
about a wedding to provide the wine. He cared enough about Peter's tax payment
to give him a coin. He cared enough about the woman at the well to give her
answers. "He cares about you." (1 Pet. 5:7) Your first step is to go
to the right person. Go to God.
Your second step
is to assume the right posture. Bow before God. In order to be anointed, the
sheep must stand still, lower their heads, and let the shepherd do his work.
Peter urges us to "be humble under God's powerful hand so he will lift you
up when the right time comes." (1 Pet. 5:6) When we come to God, we make
requests; we don't make demands. We come with high hopes and a humble heart. We
state what we want, but we pray for what’s right. And if God gives us the
prison of Rome instead of the mission of Spain, we accept it because we know
"God will always give what is right to his people who cry to him night and
day, and he will not be slow to answer them." (Luke 18:7)
We go to him. We
bow before him, and we trust in him.
The sheep doesn't understand why the oil repels the flies. The sheep doesn't
understand how the oil heals the wounds. In fact, all the sheep know is that
something happens in the presence of the shepherd. And that's all we need to
know as well. "LORD, I give myself to you; my God, I trust you." (Ps.
25:1-2). So, go ahead. Go to the Shepherd.
Grace,
Randy
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