Beyond Eeyore
That’s when Thomas, the one called the Twin, said to his companions, “Come along. We might as well die with him.” (John 11:16 MSG)
Thomas gets a bad rap, you know? He’s the one who’s tagged as “Doubting Thomas” because after the brothers told him that Jesus had risen from the dead, he doubted. He needed proof. He needed to be able to see Him, see His wounds, touch Him in the flesh.
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For a Really Tough Headache
“No doubt about it! God is good — good to good people, good to the good-hearted. But I nearly missed it, missed seeing his goodness. I was looking the other way, looking up to the people at the top, envying the wicked who have it made, who have nothing to worry about, not a care in the whole wide world. “
“Still, when I tried to figure it out, all I got was a splitting headache . . . Until I entered the sanctuary of God. Then I saw the whole picture: The slippery road you’ve put them on, with a final crash in a ditch of delusions.” (Psalm 73:1-5, 16-17, The Message)
We think we get it all figured out. Settle into a comfortable routine. God’s where He belongs, we’re doing what we want. Yeah, now and again we get our nose all out of joint because it’s not really the life we wanted. We see people around us who are doing things we want to do, having things we want to have, or that just seem to be successful in everything they touch and nothing bad ever happens to them.
And yet, they don’t care about God.
How does that work?
We love God. We serve God.
And we don’t have it all. What gives?
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Asaph tells us what gives.
God is good. He is good to His people.
And the more we look at what everybody else around us is doing, the more we can’t see that. We just see a whole bunch of stuff that just doesn’t matter at all. Like what somebody else has. What somebody else gets to do. Why somebody else never seems to suffer any consequences. Why somebody else has no worries.
No matter what’s going on, he says, God is good. All the time. And if we watch everything around us, and not Him, we’ll surely miss it.
God is good.
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Later on in this psalm, Asaph tells us what else gives. We try too hard to figure it out on our own.
“Still, when I tried to figure it out, all I got was a splitting headache.”
Ever had that splitting headache? The one that comes from me trying to figure out what God’s doing, what God wants, what I’m supposed to do, what other people are doing, and all on my own?
Extra Strength Tylenol, Advil, Axert, Excedrin Migraine . . . I’ve got ‘em all on my desk.
Not a one will help with a headache like that. Not even that stuff you rub directly on your forehead. None of that will help this kind of headache.
It’s the headache I get when I try to do God’s work. When I try to figure it all out on my own.
And leave Him on the sidelines.
All I get is a splitting headache.
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So when your head finally hurts so badly that you have no choice, what do you do? Go to a quiet, darker place to rest. Gotta get away from all the stimulation. Asaph did that too.
Until I entered the sanctuary of God. Then I saw the whole picture.
When he entered God’s place, when he stopped striving and thrashing and trying to get it all worked out on his own, it started to make sense. It came together. He saw the whole picture.
To work this all out on our own, it becomes oppressive. That’s exactly what the NIV says.
When I tried to understand all this, it was oppressive to me.
It’s just too much. But it goes on:
Till I entered the sanctuary of God.
Then we understand, then it becomes ok.
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Psalm 94 echoes this, saying that “when anxiety was great within me, Your consolation brought joy to my soul.” The Spanish version of this passage talks about how God’s comfort comes after being devastated by the “multitude of my thoughts within me.” We have to move from the multitude of our thoughts into God’s comfort and consolation, into God’s presence.
Then we understand again. We can get it again.
And when we understand again, our thoughts clear. And we remember the things that come up later in this same Psalm:
Whom have I in heaven but You? And earth has nothing I desire more than You.My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
Yet I am always with You; You hold me by my right hand.
But as for me, it is good to be near God.
For a really tough headache, I don’t need Excedrin.
I need the sanctuary.
I need the place where God dwells.
I need His consolation.
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The One Who Sees Me
“She gave this name to the LORD who spoke to her: ‘You are the God who sees me,’ for she said, ‘I have now seen the One who sees me.’ That is why the well was called Beer Lahai Roi; it is still there, between Kadesh and Bered.” (Genesis 16:13-14)
Here’s an interesting story. Way back in the early chapters of Genesis we meet a couple, Abram and Sarai. When the writer introduces Sarai, he tells us just two things about her: she was Abram’s wife, and she was barren.
She was married and without children.
These are two very important things to know about Sarai. Especially since one day when God was talking to Abram, her husband, He said he was going to make him into a great nation. His wife could not have children, but somehow God promised to create this great legacy, this great nation.
How does that work?
They were getting on in years (he was already 75), and this was getting to be more unrealistic by the day.
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Another day God and Abram visited. Abram confided his growing distress that he had no heir. His inheritance appeared destined for one of his servants instead of his own child.
God said no, that’s really not how it is. He assured him he would have his own heir, one from his own body. And then God took Abram outside, had him look up and said, “Look up at the heavens and count the stars — if indeed you can count them. … So shall your offspring be.”
And Abram, a man of unparallelled faith, believed God.
He would have an heir.
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But then, in Genesis 16, things took an unexpected turn. Sarai, without children, remember, decided it must be up to her to make happen.
She took matters into her own hands.
Thinking perhaps then they could get started building this family of theirs, she sent Abram off to sleep with her maidservant. The servant, Hagar, became pregnant, and then all kinds of conflict started to bubble below the surface of this dysfunctional little love triangle.
Hagar, carrying her master’s child, despised Sarai.
Sarai got fed up, and blamed Abram.
She blamed Abram?
The guy she sent off to sleep with the servant in the first place?
Crazy.
Sarai got exactly what she wanted, and now wanted nothing to do with it. So she mistreated her servant, and her servant ran away.
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Background out of the way, let’s get to Hagar. On the lam, she stops to rest at a spring in the desert. An an angel of the Lord speaks to her.
“Where have you come from, and where are you going?” the angel asks.
Hagar replies, “I am running away from my mistress Sarai.”
The angel reassures her, telling Hagar that she will have descendants too numerous to count. And he speaks some prophetic words about her soon to be born son, whom she is to name Ishmael.
But the angel instructs her to return and submit to Sarai.
Go back, and be obedient. You’re a servant.
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This has been a long road to get to the heart of this for me today. But when we pick this up in verse 13, Hagar gives God a name.
She gives God a name.
Who among us has done that?
What kind of amazing encounter do you have with the living God that ends with you giving Him a name?
She says that she has now seen “the One who sees me.”
He sees me.
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How incredible is that? God saw Hagar in her great despair in the desert.
And He sees me in my condition, whatever it happens to be. He sees me in my pain, He sees me in my despair, He sees me in my rejoicing. He sees me.
Who I really am. How I really feel. Unfiltered. Unhindered. Unobstructed.
He sees me.
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I love to read Ted Dekker. He has a way of weaving stories that absolutely capture my heart. In one story, a man and a woman are talking about the man’s relationship with the Father. He’s been up all night with God, and in the morning, the woman inquires about this experience.
Rebecca: So what have you been doing all night, really?
Caleb: Staring into the eyes of God.
Rebecca: And what was he doing?
Caleb’s answer is nothing short of stunning.
Caleb: Staring back into my eyes.*
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God sees me. Good, bad, ugly. He sees it all.
And He doesn’t look away.
He stares back into my eyes.
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*From A Man Called Blessed, Ted Dekker and Bill Bright, WestBow Press, a Division of Thomas Nelson, Inc. Copyright 2002
Ma’am, It’s Just a Latte!
“So do not be afraid of them. There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs. Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” (Matthew 10:26-31)
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It used to be that when I traveled I’d stop at one of my favorite coffee shops for a latte and a croissant. If I have the two together, close my eyes and imagine the smell of diesel, I can start to feel like I’m in Buenos Aires just briefly.
On a recent stop, I had the craziest altercation with the cashier. As usual, I ordered the house latte and a plain croissant. She politely told me that they no longer offered the house latte.
Without thinking much of it, I said, “Oh, how sad.” No melodrama or histrionics. I just said it, and turned to the menu to make another choice.
Meanwhile, the drama started full speed behind the counter.
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The cashier said, “Ma’am! It’s just a latte!”
Let me clarify that. She didn’t say it. She announced it. She hollered it. Kind of like kids do when they are in another room, supposedly talking to each other but really trying to attract an adult’s attention to the other kid’s behavior.
I was a little startled, said something like, “Yeah, it is,” and stepped up my efforts to reorder hoping to divert her off course.
Not getting an argument from me apparently fueled the fire.
She got louder. “Ma’am! It’s just a latte!”
And I quietly agreed again, desperately trying not to make eye contact. All I could think was, “Do not engage.”
I reordered.
She did not relent.
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By now, she’d shouted this several times, and my kids had ducked off to a table in the corner hoping not to have been seen with me or the cashier at any point.
She calmed somewhat, but continued on. “Wait now. Was that like, a joke? Were you trying to be funny? Because when I think of ‘sad,’ I think of world suffering and anguish. Like total despair.”
I explained that I certainly didn’t think of this in tragic proportions, it was simply disappointing and I’d be sure to get over it quickly. I paid for our food and detached myself from the very agitated cashier. I found my boys hiding at the furthest table they could find, a little befuddled but smiling.
Despite the craziness, I had a great new phrase to add to my repertoire.
“It’s just a latte.”
Keep it in perspective. Don’t sweat the small stuff.
It’s a phrase I use often now. And it’s packed with meaning well beyond what this woman ever imagined.
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When Jesus sent out the disciples, He told them, in a manner of speaking, “It’s just a latte.” Don’t fear those who can kill the body but not the soul. I’ve got your back. I pay attention to the number of hairs on your head, and know the whereabouts of every sparrow. Your life is in My hands, the most capable hands you’ll find anywhere on earth.
Don’t sweat the small stuff.
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As the disciples went out on their first mission, they needed to understand what really mattered. What they needed to focus on. And what they didn’t. They didn’t need to worry for their survival.
It’s not that survival is a little bitty deal. It’s a pretty big deal. But God had that all taken care of. He wanted them to understand that. They were to focus on getting the word out. Proclaiming from the rooftops the good news that their Redeemer had come.
He didn’t want them wasting time fretting over lattes, worrying about things over which they had no control.
You just get the job done, He told them. I’ll take care of you.
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In the grand scheme of things, my latte was not a big deal. I knew that. My kids knew that. Apparently the cashier didn’t know that I knew that. She knew that of all the things in life that really matter, a latte is not one of them. She felt passionately that I needed to know this too.
The now discontinued house latte represents a lot of things — paying the mortgage, skyrocketing gas prices, making relationships work, performing in our jobs, getting good grades, passing tests — things that are important to life, but things where God says He’s got it covered.
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He knows how many hairs are on my head. He’s that involved.
He knows when a sparrow smacks into my living room window. He’s that concerned.
He knows when certain restaurant chains change their menus. He’s that aware.
He takes care of stuff I can’t begin to keep track of.
I need to focus on what matters.
After all, “It’s just a latte.”
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No Results Found
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5-6)
I thought it would be fun to do something in line with Independence Day for the 4th of July.
So I stopped over to Bible Gateway to see what I could find. I punched in “independence” and waited for my results. I got them instantly. The search page came back saying No Results Found.
Now, realize that this was a search of the whole Bible.
New and Old Testaments.
Sixty-six books.
That’s an awful lot of words to pick from.
But still, No Results Found.
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I figured maybe the translators of the NIV just didn’t prefer that word, so I searched the New American Standard instead.
No Results Found.
What about King James?
No Results Found.
I even tried searching for “independencia” in the Reina-Valera (Spanish) version.
No Results Found.
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What I do think we can fairly conclude is that when God was breathing out His Word, apparently “independence” wasn’t something that He wanted to see come up very often.
By contrast, when I searched for things like “trust in the Lord,” I got pages and pages of results. Imagine that. God doesn’t value our independence.
He values and desires our complete and total dependence on Him.
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It’s funny, because when I consider our job as parents, it is to grow up our kids so that they are not dependent on us. So that they are independent. Our goal in large part is to have them ultimately reach the point where they can make their own sound decisions, can adequately support themselves, can live high quality lives on their own. We celebrate milestones throughout their lives that show they are becoming independent, from taking their first steps to graduating from high school or college.
That independence marks their maturity.
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But when it comes to our maturity in Christ, our spiritual maturity, it’s marked less by our independence than it is by our dependence. Our utter dependence on God. We can recognize spiritual maturity by how an individual recognizes their own dependence.
Really, face it. We are dependent on God for our every breath. But we don’t always like to say so. We like to pose and pretend we are capable and independent. The mature among us can readily admit that they are dependent.
That they trust in the Lord with all their heart, that they don’t lean on their own understanding.
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It’s Independence Day.
We want to celebrate that big. For a nation to be its own sovereign power and not be subject to another gives us good reason to celebrate and set off fireworks. The struggle for independence fought by our Founding Fathers was noble, and it afforded us the freedom we now have to seek after and worship our God. We are indebted to them, and the many since then, who have sacrificed to protect our freedom and independence.
But, as individuals subject to a sovereign God, our own independence leaves much to be desired. It leaves us with the very things we need to survive — the things that God can only provide to those who recognize their absolute dependence on Him — hanging just out of reach.
And that’s nothing to celebrate.
Falling on my face in humble and grateful acknowledgement of my need for Him?
That should set off fireworks.
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(In the spirit of full disclosure, I do have to confess that I also did a word search in The Message for “independence.” I had a hunch that Peterson would come through. And admittedly, I did find one instance of the word in Jeremiah. This sole reference comes in a scathing indictment of the people for their rejection of God and includes some endearing references to a Sir Windbag and an examination of the credentials of the schools of sin and graduate courses in evil that they seemed to be promoting. The chapter got my head spinning and I’ll come back to this. But one day couldn’t do it justice. So stay tuned.)
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