The Idolatry of Fear

 

The Idolatry of Fear

The Idolatry of Fear - Audio/Visual 

I will extol the Lord at all times; his praise will always be on my lips. I will glory in the Lord; let the afflicted hear and rejoice. Glorify the Lord with me; let us exalt his name together. I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. This poor man called, and the Lord heard him; he saved him out of all his troubles. The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and he delivers them. (Psalm 34:1-7)

When we read the Psalms, we often think of David. And when we think of David, we frequently see the giant killer. But a portion of the book of Samuel (1 Sam. 21:10–15) gives us a vastly different picture of David – a picture of fear. It’s the story of David fleeing from his father-in-law, King Saul, and going to Achish, king of Gath who was Israel’s archenemy. Unfortunately for David, the servants of Achish recognized him: "Isn't this David, the king of the land? Isn't he the one they sing about in their dances: ‘Saul has slain his thousands, and David his tens of thousands’?” (Vs. 11) Upon hearing those words, David panicked and pretended to be insane, acting like a crazed lunatic by clawing on the doors of the gate and drooling all over his beard. (Vs. 13)

By this time, Achish arrives, looks at his servants and the commotion and says, "Look at him! He’s insane! Why are you bringing him to me? Am I so short of madmen myself that you have to bring this man here to carry on like this, and right here in front of me no less? Do you think he’s coming into my house?" (Vs. 14, 15) Seeing an opening, David runs for his life.

It’s the story of a man, struggling for many months to escape certain death at the hands of Saul, and deciding in desperation to seek asylum in the enemy’s camp. David’s thinking was that Saul wouldn’t have the audacity to pursue him into enemy territory, and the Philistines wouldn’t care if Israel were without their next king. But David's new address wasn’t the safe haven he’d hoped for. The servants of the king become suspicious, and David finds himself "very much afraid of Achish." (Vs. 2)

Psalm 34 was written in response to this incident. In fact, the title of Psalm 34 is, “A Psalm of David. When he pretended to be insane before Achish, who drove him away.” Doesn’t get much plainer than that. And the next Psalm, Psalm 35, is relevant, too. These two Psalms, when taken together, are a study in fear, in which the words fear or afraid appear no less than eight (8) times in fifty (50) verses, or more than 10%. Although David's immediate response to his fear was to trust in his own devices, i.e., drooling and feigning insanity, he eventually moved beyond his fear by focusing on God's provision.

In both Psalms, David contrasts his fear of man with fearing the Lord: “I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. (Psalm 34:4) The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and he delivers them. (Vs. 7) Fear the Lord, you his saints, for those who fear him lack nothing.” (Vs. 9) David understood that he couldn’t just simply will his fears away. The person he feared had to be displaced by something even bigger, i.e., fearing the Lord and trusting in his provision.

To trust in God is to put our complete reliance upon him for the provision of our every need, for protection from those who would hurt or hinder us, and for guidance in future decisions. Fear of man, on the other hand, believes that another person has the ultimate power to impact our life, and dreading the damage that person might do to us in the future. But note that both trust and fear attribute power to someone to affect our future; the only difference is the object of our fear, or trust. In other words, trust and fear are virtually the same, and that’s why the Bible condemns the fear of man but commends those who fear the Lord.

Fear subverts our confidence in God. We no longer trust him. So, we fear elections, the economy and looming fiscal cliffs, instead. But since the fear of man essentially cedes power to human beings that rightfully belongs to God, it’s really just a form of idolatry. In other words, when we are ruled by the fear of man, those that we're afraid of usurp God's sovereign place in our lives – which forces us to confront a very practical question: “How can I be delivered from fearful idolatry into a life of trust?”

In the pagan religions of biblical times, fear and trust were always intertwined. The gods were capricious, and supplicants desperately sought to placate these angry deities to earn favor and avoid calamity. Today, our false gods may be less obvious but no less influential in the power they hold over our lives. We fear people of influence, or a family member, or a co-worker, or an employer, or criminals, or terrorists, or pandemics, or anyone or anything else that can negatively impact our lives. And, just as the ancient pagans did, we then seek to appease those who seem to hold our fate in their hands.

At Gath, David discovered he was afraid of Achish and admitted his fears – the first step toward trusting God. And we, like David, need to identify the people that make us afraid. So, maybe we should just make a list of the names of the people we fear and offer the list to God in prayer, specifically naming each person that has an influence over our futures. Who knows? The process could very well help us recognize the idols we’ve established in God's place. And then, when we list and pray about our fears, it opens the door to our freedom from the very things and people we fear the most.

We also need to apply the truth to our fears. In his reflections on the incident at Gath, David recorded his commitment to surrender future fearful experiences to God: "When I am afraid, I will trust in you; in God I trust, I will not be afraid." (Ps. 56: 3, 11) After his decision to trust, David then concluded, "This I know, that God is for me." (v. 9) David's perspective changed radically when he chose to look at his fears through the lens of truth. For instance, how big is God in comparison to the person we fear? How have we seen God demonstrate his alertness to our needs? How have we seen that God is for us in this situation? Answering these questions can help us apply the truth to our fears instead of fixating on them. And then, armed with the truth, we can thank God for those whom we fear.

Sounds strange, I know. But this step in restoring our trust in God is to thank him for the very people who provoke our fears. Gratitude for our circumstances reminds us that God can protect us in the right way, at the right time, and for the right reasons. David understood this principle when he said, “I will present my thank offerings to you. For you have delivered me from death and my feet from stumbling.” (Ps. 56:12-13)

We easily forget how God cares for us when we fear the loss of a job or being denied a pay raise. But thankfulness frees us from the burden of our apprehension. Instead, we can pray, "Thank you, Father, for my present job situation. I am grateful that you’re using my job and my supervisor according to your purposes in my life." Then, rather than cowering before the people we fear, we can experience the transformative power of gratitude that frees us from those very same fears.

Look again at Psalm 34:7. The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and he delivers them. OK, so what? Well, the phrase, “The angel of the Lord,” appears only three (3) times in the Bible. Once, here, in Psalm 34, and twice in Psalm 35. It’s what theologians call a Christophany – a pre-Incarnate appearance of Jesus Christ. It was a special title used in the Old Testament for Jesus, and after the Incarnation, the phrase is never used again. The point is that God has not only promised to deliver us, but he’s promised to give us the Deliverer himself.

In the sixth chapter of 2 Kings there’s a story about the prophet Elisha and his servant. According to the record, Elisha and his servant were staying in a town called Dothan. The problem was that the king of the neighboring country of Aram had sent his armies to destroy Dothan which is not good if you’re staying the night at the local Holiday Inn. And for good reason, too, because God had been revealing the military plans of the king of Aram to Elisha, and Elisha – in turn – had been taking those plans and giving them to the king of Israel. So, whenever Aram and his army showed up, Israel would give them a beat-down. Finally, the king of Aram figured out that his intelligence had been compromised and decided the best way to win the war was to take out the Israeli intelligence department, i.e., Elisha.

So, here’s Elisha and his servant in this little hick town, miles from nowhere, and during the night the Aramean army completely surrounds Dothan. In the morning, when Elisha’s servant goes out to get some water for his master, he sees this huge Aramean army surrounding them, and they weren’t there to play nice. Understandably, the servant’s afraid and he runs back to Elisha and cries out, “What are we going to do now?” (Vs. 15)  Easy, responds Elisha. “Don’t be afraid; there’s more on our side than on theirs.” (Vs. 16) Can’t you just see Elisha’s servant scratching his head? “Hey, boss, uh … but the last time I checked there were two of us and there’s millions of them! Did you stay up too late?” But Elisha, rather than becoming fearful, prays, “O Lord, open his eyes and let him see.” (Vs. 17) So, the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and when he looked up, he saw the hillside around them filled with horses and chariots of fire. (Id.) And we’re not talking about horses and chariots of fire belonging to the Aramean army. End of story.

Now, where there more with them than with the enemy? Absolutely. So, what, then, was the difference? Well, they just couldn’t see them. In other words, until God opened the eyes of the servant, he didn’t realize that the whole army of God had come to the rescue, dwarfing the Aramean army by comparison. So, when we’re in the doctor’s office waiting for the diagnosis, or when we’ve received that call late at night and don’t know where to turn, or we’ve been handed a pink slip, or the foreclosure notice, or any of a million other things, just remember that the angel of the Lord waits with you, listens to that call, sees that notice, reads your mail and helps you through your fears. He’s the one of whom we never have to be afraid because he’s with us; he’s always with us – even in the midst of our fears. Even during those times when we can’t see or sense his presence.

The one who overcame the fear of the cross draws near to us in our personal fears and we can be assured that we’re not alone. He’s promised to never leave us or forsake us (Deut. 31:8), and when we’re most fear-filled, that’s when he’s nearest to us  – whether we know it or not.

So maybe we should just pray. Maybe something like, “Dear God, please open my eyes so that I can see your Spirit. I know he’s here, but I just need a greater sense of your presence.” And it’s then that God brings one of his people into your life; one of his ambassadors to remind you that he hasn’t forgotten you, but to remind you that fear is just an acronym for “False Evidence Appearing Real.”

Don’t be afraid. If God is for us, who can be against us? (Rom. 8:31)

Grace,

Randy

In a Fog (Of Depression)

 

In a Fog

(Of Depression)

In a Fog (Of Depression) - Audio/Visual 

While he lived on earth, anticipating death, Jesus cried out in pain and wept in sorrow as he offered up priestly prayers to God. Because he honored God, God answered him. Though he was God’s Son, he learned trusting-obedience by what he suffered, just as we do. (Hebrews 5:7-8)

The fog of a broken heart. It’s a dark fog that slyly imprisons the soul and refuses easy escape. It’s a silent mist that eclipses the sun and beckons the darkness. It’s a heavy cloud that honors no hour and respects no person. Depression; discouragement; disappointment; doubt. All are companions of this dreaded presence. The fog of a broken heart disorients our life. It makes it hard to see the road. Dim your lights. Wipe off the windshield. Slow down. Do what you wish, but nothing seems to help. When this fog encircles us, our vision is blocked, and tomorrow is a forever away. When this billowy blackness envelops us, the most earnest words of help and hope seem but vacant, empty phrases.

If you’ve ever been betrayed by a friend, you know what I mean. If you’ve ever been dumped by a spouse or abandoned by a parent, you’ve seen this fog. If you’ve ever placed a spade of dirt on a loved one’s casket or kept vigil at a dear one’s bedside, you recognize this cloud. If you’ve been in this fog, or are in it now, you can be sure of one thing — you’re not alone. Even the saltiest of sea captains have lost their bearings because of the appearance of this unwanted cloud. Like the late singer-songwriter, John Prine, said – “If heartaches was commercials, we’d all be on TV.”

Think back over just the last two or three months; longer if you wish. Regardless of your memory’s length, how many broken hearts did you encounter? How many wounded spirits did you witness? How many stories of tragedy did you read about? The woman who lost her husband and son in a freak car wreck. The attractive mother of three who was abandoned by her husband. The child who was hit and killed by a passing garbage truck as he was getting off the school bus while his mother, who was waiting for him, witnessed the slow-motion tragedy unfold before her horror-filled eyes.

The list goes on and on. Foggy tragedies. They blind our vision and destroy our dreams. Forget any great hopes of reaching the world. Forget any plans of changing society. Forget any aspirations of moving mountains. Forget all that. Like the 70’s Sammi Smith song, just “(h)elp me make it through the night,” we beg. The suffering of the broken heart. By some estimates clinical depression is ten times more rampant now than it was a century ago. The World Health Organization, although not always right, accurately predicted that by the year 2020 depression would become the second leading cause of disease worldwide. It used to be that older people were happier. People in their 60’s and 70’s generally scored higher in the areas of contentment and appreciation of life. That’s changed. Age doesn’t seem to bring the same satisfaction as it once did. But how can that be? Education is accessible to most. We've made advancements in everything from medicine to technology, yet 66% of us can't find an adequate reason to check the “Yes” box on the happiness questionnaire. Maybe we’re just too busy numbing ourselves by reading about the miseries of others on our iPhones.

Go with me for a moment to witness what was perhaps the foggiest night in history. The scene is amazingly simple; you’ll recognize it quickly. A grove of twisted olive trees. Ground cluttered with large rocks. A low stone fence. A dark, dark night. Now, look into the picture. Look closely through the shadowy foliage. See him? See the solitary figure? What’s he doing? Flat on the ground. Face stained with dirt and tears. Fists pounding the hard earth he’d made. Eyes wide with a stupor of fear. Hair matted with salty sweat. That’s Jesus. Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane.

Maybe you’ve seen the classic portrait of Christ in the garden. The one where he’s kneeling beside a big rock in a snow-white robe with hands peacefully folded in prayer and a look of serenity on his face. Halo over his head, and a spotlight from heaven illuminating his golden-brown hair. I’m no artist, but I can tell you one thing: Heinrich Hofmann, who painted that scene in 1890, didn’t use the gospel of Mark as his muse. Look what Mark wrote about that painful night:

They came to an area called Gethsemane. Jesus told his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” He took Peter, James, and John with him. He sank into a pit of suffocating darkness. He told them, “I feel bad enough right now to die. Stay here and keep vigil with me.” Going a little ahead, he fell to the ground and prayed for a way out: “Papa, Father, you can — can’t you? — get me out of this. Take this cup away from me. But please, not what I want — what do you want?” He came back and found them sound asleep. He said to Peter, “Simon, you went to sleep on me? Can’t you stick it out with me a single hour? Stay alert, be in prayer, so you don’t enter the danger zone without even knowing it. Don’t be naive. Part of you is eager, ready for anything in God; but another part is as lazy as an old dog sleeping by the fire.” He then went back and prayed the same prayer. Returning, he again found them sound asleep. They simply couldn’t keep their eyes open, and they didn’t have a plausible excuse. He came back a third time and said, “Are you going to sleep all night? No — you’ve slept long enough. Time’s up. The Son of Man is about to be betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up. Let’s get going. My betrayer has arrived.” (Mark 14:32-42 – The Message)

Look at those phrases. “He sank into a pit of suffocating darkness.” “I feel bad enough right now to die.” “He fell to the ground and prayed for a way out,” all while his closest friends were sawing logs. Does that look like the picture of a saintly Jesus resting in the palm of God? Hardly. Mark used black paint to describe the scene. We see an agonizing, straining and struggling Jesus. We see “a man of sorrows.” (Isaiah 53:3) We see a man struggling with fear, wrestling with commitments, and yearning for relief. We see Jesus in the fog of a broken heart. The writer of Hebrews would later pen, “While he lived on earth, anticipating death, Jesus cried out in pain and wept in sorrow as he offered up priestly prayers to God. Because he honored God, God answered him. Though he was God’s Son, he learned trusting-obedience by what he suffered, just as we do. Then, having arrived at the full stature of his maturity and having been announced by God as high priest in the order of Melchizedek, he became the source of eternal salvation to all who believingly obey him.” (Hebrews 5:7-10)

What a portrait. Jesus in pain. Jesus on fear’s stage. Jesus cloaked, not in sainthood, but in humanity. And we know that God didn’t save his Son from the cruelty of the cross, but through Christ’s death, burial and resurrection, God saved us from a similar fate. God may not always manifest immediately by lifting the fog, but he will pierce the darkness of which the fog may only be a harbinger.

The next time the fog finds you, you might do well to remember Jesus in the garden. The next time you think that no one understands, reread the fourteenth chapter of Mark. The next time your self-pity convinces you that no one cares, pay a visit to Gethsemane. And the next time you wonder if God really perceives the pain that prevails on this dusty planet, listen to him pleading among the twisted trees that he created.

Seeing God like this does wonders for our suffering. God was never more human than at this hour. God was never nearer to us than when he hurt. The Incarnation was never so fulfilled as in the garden. As a result, time spent in the fog of pain could be God’s greatest gift. It could be the hour that we finally see our Maker. If it is true that in suffering God is most like man, then maybe in our suffering we can see God like never before.

The next time you are called to suffer, pay attention. It may be the closest you’ll ever get to God. And watch closely. It could very well be that the hand that extends itself to lead you out of the fog is the hand of the one who was pierced for your transgressions. He was crushed for our sins. The punishment that brought our peace was on him; and by his wounds we are healed. (Isaiah 53:5)

Grace,

Randy

Believe

 

Believe

Believe - Audio/Visual 

              “For God so loved the world, that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16

Preschoolers can recite it, and football fans paint it boldly across cardboard signs near the end zone. It’s brief enough to write on a napkin or memorize in a moment, yet solid enough to withstand 2,000 years of storms and questions. It begins with God, ends with life, and urges us to do the same. If you know nothing of the Bible, begin here. If you know everything of the Bible, return here.

The context of John 3:16 began with a silent figure moving secretly through the darkened streets of Jerusalem. Nicodemus was a Pharisee, one of the religious elites who militantly rejected Jesus. So, when Nicodemus decided to seek Christ out and to learn from him, he had to do it under the cover of darkness. Slipping through alleyways and dimly lit streets, Nicodemus finds his way to a simple house where Jesus and his followers are staying. “Rabbi,” he said, “we all know that God has sent you to teach us. Your miraculous signs are evidence that God is with you.” (John 3:2)

Without hesitation, Jesus replies, “I tell you the truth, unless you are born again, you cannot see the Kingdom of God.” (John 3:3) Now, I’m not sure what was on Nicodemus’ mind that night, but it’s clear what was on Jesus’ mind. And Christ’s exposition on salvation reaches its climax in the sixteenth verse: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” In this one verse, we see the whole Gospel of Jesus Christ, and it starts with two simple words: He loves.

And if those words are true, it changes everything, doesn’t it? Imagine what the world would be like without God’s love – a dark planet hurtling through space without direction; no hope; no future; nothing for which to live; no greater purpose to its inhabitant’s existence. Every death would be an end. Every grave a place of despair. But God loves the world. We see it in every sunrise and sunset, every blade of grass, every birth, and every child’s face. For God so loved the world. Isn’t that the message of John 3:16? And isn’t that the message the world needs to hear? That God made you special and that he loves us so very much.

The Bible says, “And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow — not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below — indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38-39) He loves. And because he loves, he gives. Jesus said, “God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son.…” Just to say “I love you” doesn’t really mean a whole lot sometimes, does it? That’s why love, agape, is a verb – an action word; it’s something that has to be tangibly demonstrated. It has to be proven – God’s love included. The Bible says, “But God proves his own love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8)

That sounds so strange to some. So many people in the world respect the teachings of Jesus and admire his example. But no matter how they turn it around, they can’t see any significance in his death. One man even said, “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t need God to give anyone for me,” he claimed. “I’ve led a good life. Held a good job. People respect me. My wife loves me. I don’t need God to give me his son.” Maybe you agree. But are we really as good as we think we are? Here’s a little test.

“You shall not steal.” Have you ever stolen anything? A paper clip, a peanut? Well, if so, that makes you a thief. “You must not lie.” Those who claim they never have just did. “You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain.” Ever let God’s name slip past your lips in anger or frustration? The Bible calls that blasphemy. “You shall not commit adultery.” Now, before you start congratulating yourself on that one, guys, remember that Jesus said if you so much as look at a woman lustfully you’ve committed adultery in your heart. And that’s just four out of ten.

We could keep going, but I don’t think we’d do any better. I believe that most sincere people, if being completely honest, know that we’re really not all that good. We all have regrets. We’ve all made mistakes. The Bible calls that sin. And we do it all the time. In fact, if you’re still on the fence about it, the apostle Paul tells us that “Everyone has sinned and fallen short of God’s glorious standard.” (Romans 3:23) That’s everyone. And our sin separates us from God. So, if any of us are ever going to have a real relationship with our Creator, then it’s up to him to find a way to reconcile us. And that’s where Jesus comes in. He determined to build that bridge with an old, rugged cross. He gave himself. He gave Jesus to bring salvation to the world through his death. In John 3:14, Jesus alludes to an event in the Old Testament. It’s a story that’s told in Numbers 21:4-9. It’s a story of sin. The children of Israel – God’s special people – had rebelled against God, so God sent poisonous snakes that bit the people and many of them died. But it’s also a story of grace. Moses interceded for the people and God provided a remedy. He told Moses to make a brass serpent and lift it up on a pole for everyone to see, and anyone who had been bitten who looked at the serpent would be healed immediately. It’s today’s symbol for medicine.

And we’re in a similar situation. The whole world has been bitten by sin, and the “wages of sin is death.” (Rom. 6:23) Just as the serpent was lifted on that pole for the people to look on for healing, Jesus was lifted on a cross for us to look to for our healing. God sent his Son to die, not only for Israel, but for the whole world. And although God’s remedy for snakebite was sufficient for all of Israel, it was only effective for those who "looked upon the serpent." And although God’s love and Jesus’ sacrifice is sufficient for the whole world, it is only efficient if we believe.

Jesus said that God “gave his one and only Son so that whoever believes in him shall not perish….” But this concept runs contrary to our instincts. The problem, it seems, is that it’s way too simple. We expect a more complicated cure, a more sophisticated salvation, right? Just like that Bible verse that says, “God helps those who help themselves”? (Sorry to disappoint some of you, but that’s not really in the Bible. It’s actually a moral from one of Aesop’s fables) But no other religion offers what Jesus promises. Judaism sees salvation as a Judgment Day decision based on morality. Buddhism grades your life according to the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path. Muslims earn their way to Allah by performing the duties of the Five Pillars of Faith.

But not Christianity. Jesus calls us to do one thing: believe. Listen to what the Bible says: “Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because he has not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son.” (John 3:18) “He who believes in the Son has everlasting life; and he who does not believe the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abides on him.” (John 3:36) “I tell you the truth, whoever believes has eternal life.” (John 6:47) “Then he brought them out and asked, ‘Sirs, what must I do to be saved?’ They replied, ‘Believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved, along with everyone in your household.’” (Acts 16:31) “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.” (Eph. 2:8)

But you’re thinking, “What about baptism, or repentance and that changed life stuff? Are you saying those things aren’t necessary?” No, I’m not. But baptism, repentance, and a changed life are not in addition to faith – they are expressions of it. They are acts of faith that work together with our belief to make our faith real. What Jesus wants us to see is that it’s not because of what we’ve done, but because of who he is. And it’s not because of who we are, but because of what he’s already done. All he asks is for us to put our trust in him, and him alone. God rewards those who seek him, not those who seek a doctrine, or a system, or creeds. Jesus died so that we could have a relationship, not a religion.

And the reward is that when we believe, we live. “Whoever believes in him,” Jesus said, “shall not perish, but have eternal life.” Although people sometimes imagine spending eternity in the clouds, floating around and strumming harps for eternity, that’s not really the Biblical picture of Heaven. The Bible describes Heaven as a place that will have rivers, trees, cities, buildings, gates, streets, mountains, and houses. (Revelation 21-22) Although its glory will be beyond description, its essential components will be similar to what we have now. Paradise lost will be paradise restored. It will be a world of beauty and grandeur; a paradise as God originally intended.

Perhaps the most amazing thing in heaven will be our intimate relationship with our Maker and Redeemer. In Heaven, the Bible says, “God’s presence is with his people, and he will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them and will be their God.” (Revelation 21:3) We won’t need to be drawn into God’s presence. We’ll live there, constantly and consciously. And our restored relationship with God will offer infinite possibilities, and the more we come to know him, the more there will be to know.

He loves. He gives. We believe. We live. It’s really that simple. God loves this world more than we’ll ever know. He gave his one and only Son so that we could forever live with him. Apart from him we die. With him we live. Choose life. Choose Jesus. Choose well.

Grace,

Randy