Always

Always

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. (Phil. 4:4-5)

Place a finger on each of your temples. Now offer this prayer: “Thank you, Lord, for my amygdala. Thank you, Lord, for the two almond-shaped neural clusters that reside inside my brain. I wouldn't be alive without them.” And that’s the truth. Thanks to your amygdalae, you stepped back on the curb when the car honked, and you ducked your head when the baseball screamed in your direction. Your amygdalae operate like an alarm system. For instance, if an intruder breaks a window or pries open a lock to your house, your home security system warns you. Bells, alarms, horns, lights. Get up, get out and get safe. The system alerts you before you have time to think about it. Your amygdalae do the same.

We don't consciously think, A car is coming. I'm in its way. The car is big; I am small. The car is fast; I am slow. I better move. Amygdalae prompt a reaction before we know one is needed. And when the amygdalae command, the rest of the body reacts. Our pupils dilate, improving our vision. We breathe faster, pumping more oxygen to the lungs. Our pulse rate increases, infusing more blood into the system. Adrenaline turns us into Hercules. We’re ready for fight or flight; suddenly faster, stronger and more alert. We like our amygdalae. But we don't like supersensitive ones.

We don't want a home security system that goes off at the gust of a breeze, or the bark of a dog. We don't want that in our homes, nor do we want that in our heads. Perpetual anxiety is amygdalae with an itchy trigger finger. They see a mole on the skin and think cancer. They see a dip in the economy and think recession. Perpetual anxiety is the mental alarm system that never quite turns off. Limited anxiety is helpful. We need to be alerted to danger. What we don't need is to live in a state of high alert. And here’s why: God created our brains to replenish themselves with natural mood elevators and tranquilizers like dopamine and serotonin. These restore joy and peace. But if the amygdalae never stop, the natural tranquilizers never have an opportunity to do their work. The brain never resets. We become edgy and unsettled. That’s the bad news. The good news is this: God can calm our amygdalae.

Paul urges us to "rejoice in the Lord always." (Phil. 4:4) Not just on paydays, Fridays, good days, or birthdays, but to rejoice in the Lord always. You aren't the first to read the word always and arch an eyebrow. Always? "Yeah, right," mumbles the patient from the hospital bed. "How?" sighs the unemployed dad. "Really?" questions the mother of the baby born with a disability. It’s one thing to rejoice in the Lord when life is good, but when the odds are against you? Joseph knew this challenge.

Joseph's story is one of abandonment. His brothers had disliked his dreams and swagger and decided to kill him and throw him into a pit. Had their greed not been a feather heavier than their thirst for blood, he would’ve died. When they had a chance to sell him to traveling merchants, they did. And his father was completely uninvolved. You'd hope to read of the sudden appearance of Jacob, who searched for his son, rescued him, and took him home. But we don't, because Jacob didn't. He was MIA. Joseph was carted off to Egypt and raffled off like a farm animal. The great-grandson of Abraham was sold to the highest bidder. Even so, he landed on his feet.

He worked his way to the top of Potiphar's household. But then the mistress of the house put the hanky-panky on him. The lady went shady, and Joseph got out, leaving her holding his coat. When she accused him of attempted rape, her husband took her side and tossed Joseph in prison. Joseph landed in jail for a crime he didn't commit. Still, he didn't give up. He became a model prisoner. He made his bed, made friends, and made a good impression on the warden, who recognized him as inmate of the month and promoted Joseph to convict-in-charge. Joseph met the butler and asked for his help. The butler agreed but quickly forgot, and cruelty tipped the scales. Joseph languished in prison for two years with no word and no solution. Two years. Plenty of time to give up. Plenty of time for the world to turn gray, for gargoyles of dread to appear. Plenty of time to wonder, Is this how God treats his children? Is this God's reward for good behavior? Do your best, and this is what you get? A jail cell and a hard bed? If Joseph asked those questions, we don't know. But if you do, you’re not alone.

You weren't thrown in jail, like Joseph, but then again, maybe you were. Or you ended up in AA or a women's shelter or an unemployment line. And you wonder, I believe in God. Is he aware? Does he even care? Deism says no. God created the universe and then abandoned it. Pantheism says no. Creation has no story or purpose unto itself; it’s only a part of God. Atheism says no. Not surprisingly, the philosophy that dismisses the existence of a god will, in turn, dismiss the possibility of a divine plan. Christianity, on the other hand, says, "Yes, there is a God. Yes, this God is personally and powerfully involved in his creation." "The Son is the radiance of God's glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word." (Heb. 1:3)

God is the one in charge of everything, even the details of our lives. He isn't making up this plan as he goes along. He didn't wind up the clock and walk away. "The Most High God rules the kingdom of men, and sets over it whom he will." (Dan. 5:21) He "executes judgment, putting down one and lifting up another." (Ps. 75:7) "The fierce anger of the LORD will not turn back until he has executed and accomplished the intents of his mind." (Jer. 30:24) Pretty starchy verbs: God "rules," "sets," "executes," "accomplished." These terms attest to the existence of a heavenly Architect and blueprint, and his blueprint includes you. "In him we were also chosen, . . . according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will." (Eph. 1:11) So if God is in charge, why was Joseph in prison? Or why is your friend's marriage in disarray? Why does God permit challenges to come our way? Wouldn't an almighty God prevent them? Not if they serve his higher purpose.

Remember the rest of Joseph's story? When Pharaoh was troubled by his dreams, the butler remembered Joseph's request. He mentioned Joseph to Pharaoh, and as fast as you can say providence, Joseph went from prison to palace. Joseph interpreted the dream, which was a forecast of a famine. Pharaoh promoted him to prime minister, and Joseph successfully navigated the crisis and saved not only the Egyptians, but Jacob’s family as well. Years later Joseph would tell his brothers, "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. So then, don't be afraid. I will provide for you and your children." (Gen. 50:20-21) Two words at the heart of this passage reveal the heart of providential hope: but God. "You intended to harm me, but God . . . ." What was intended as harm became good. Why? Because Joseph kept God in the middle of his circumstances. Joseph viewed the sufferings of his life through the lens of divine providence. We should all do the same. Because if you don't, anxiety will stalk you every day of your life.

I have no words to counter the stress of the atheist or the agnostic. What alleviates their anxiety? Yoga? Deep-breathing exercises? Stress-relief candles? God's sovereignty, on the other hand, bids us to fight the onslaught of fret with the sword that is etched with the words but God. The company is downsizing, but God is still sovereign. The cancer is back, but God still occupies the throne. I was a jerk during the first years of my marriage, but God showed me how to lead a family. I was an anxious, troubled soul, but God has been giving me courage. The brothers had every intention to harm Joseph. But God, in his providence, used their intended evil for ultimate good. He never robbed the brothers of their free will. He never imposed his nature upon them. But neither did he allow their sin and their sin nature to rule the day. He rerouted evil into good. God uses all things to bring about his purpose. He will not be deterred in his plan to sustain and carry creation to its intended glory.

The ultimate proof of providence is the death of Christ on the cross. No deed was more evil. No other day was so dark. Yet God not only knew of the crucifixion; he ordained it. As Peter told the murderers, "This man was handed over to you by God's deliberate plan and foreknowledge; and you, with the help of wicked men, put him to death by nailing him to the cross. But God raised him from the dead, freeing him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him." (Acts 2:23-24) Everyone thought the life of Jesus was over – but God. His Son was dead and buried, but God raised him from the dead. God took the crucifixion of Friday and turned it into the celebration of Sunday. And he can do the same for you.

I'm sorry for the pain that life has given you. I'm sorry if your parents neglected you. I'm sorry if your teacher ignored you. I'm sorry if a heartbreaker said "I do" on your wedding day but "I don't" every day thereafter. I'm sorry if you were inappropriately touched, intentionally mocked, or unfairly dismissed. I'm sorry if you ended up in Egypt. But if the story of Joseph teaches us anything, it’s this: we have a choice. We can wear our hurt, or we can wear our hope. We can outfit ourselves in our misfortune, or we can clothe ourselves in God's providence. We can cave in to the pandemonium of life, or we can lean into the perfect plan of God. And we can believe this promise: "In all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." (Rom. 8:28)

Horatio Spafford was a prosperous lawyer and Presbyterian Church elder. In 1871 he and his wife, Anna, suffered tragic financial losses in the Chicago fire. So, in November of 1873, Anna and their children set sail for Europe with a group of friends to enjoy some time away. Horatio stayed home to take care of some business, but planned to join his family later. On December 2 he received a telegram from his wife that began "Saved alone. What shall I do?" He soon learned that the steamer his family was on had collided with a British vessel and had sunk. Their four daughters drowned, and Anna survived. He left for England to bring Anna back home. En route, while sailing on the ship, he wrote the lyrics to a song that would become an anthem to the providence of God; words written by a grief-stricken man on a storm-tossed sea whose first verse begins, When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, It is well, it is well, with my soul. May we so trust in the providence of God that we can say the same. Always.

Grace,

Randy

Always - Audio/Visual