Psalm 19: in my own words

The Spirit of God inspired His Word in their original languages, and diligent scholars translated it into ours. Reading any text, examining it, and then rewriting it, is an exercise that uncovers, personalizes, and internalizes the meaning, but it is not to be held on equal grounds with inspiration or even translation. Based on my study of this chapter, below is my paraphrase and amplification of it.  May it breathe fresh joy into your heart.

From sunrise to sunset, the sky breaks out 

in unspoken declaration and wordless proclamation across the globe:

God is glorious, and this is His creation!

There is no language barrier or geographic limitation 

preventing this message from spreading. 

The sun rises and sets, faithfully and fully, 

touching every inch of the earth with its warmth.

The law of the LORD is completely without defect, 

restoring wholeness to our souls.

The testimony of the LORD is confirmed, 

making the naive wise.

The precepts of the LORD are level and straight, 

delighting our hearts with a perfect fit.

The commandment of the LORD is radiant, 

making our eyes glow with illumination.

The fear of the LORD is pure, 

standing the test of time.

The rules of the LORD are stable and righteous in their unity.

They satisfy our cravings more

than all the pleasures of wealth or exquisite food.

By them your servant is warned; 

by keeping them, your servant is rewarded.

Who can discern, on their own, all their mistakes?

Acquit me of hidden faults.

Hold me back from arrogant sins; 

don’t let them hold me under their power.

Then I will be blameless and acquitted of great wrongdoing.

When I open my mouth, may my words be aligned with your Word;

When I’m silent, may my thoughts embody your beautiful truth like the sky does.

In this way, I long to bring a smile to your face, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer.

1 Kings 17:1-7

We all have experiences, interactions, and conversations which, unbeknownst to us, shape our trajectory early in life and become a regular source of our development over time. Whether positive or negative, each contributes to who we are and who we’re becoming. I grieve with you any early trauma, harsh words, or mistreatment, and I pray that those are being redeemed under the power of Jesus for your own beautiful and purposeful identity as God’s child. 

God’s work of using His Word in my heart began before I had a choice in the matter. I was born to first-time parents, Bob and Carla, in the early 80’s and given the pre-meditated name, Cherith.  Growing up, I knew I would never walk into a store and find a pencil or a keychain with my name on it, although I would always scan the C’s, just in case. 

But my parents made sure that I knew the backstory for Cherith, found in 1 Kings 17. Elijah the prophet had informed the wicked king Ahab that there would be no rain for three years, a terrible plight for an agrarian society.  God told Elijah to run for his life - probably from both the king and the famine - to the brook Cherith, where he could hide near a water source and be fed by ravens for a while.  

From this scene, my parents set a vision for me to be, what they defined as, “a provider of encouragement” like the brook Cherith in a desert season.  I didn’t know then what a gift they gave in speaking a purpose statement like that over me. I owe so much to them. As I grew older and fell in love with Hebrew, I learned that Cherith means cutting, a separation. Hmm. That doesn’t sound encouraging. 

Cuts 

Valleys

Ravines 

Crevices 

Gouges in rock

Deep slices in the earth

These are the places, broken and opened, where a source of water could be found in a time of famine.  

And so it is with encouragement: it flows best out of those parts of our lives that were once whole, then split in two. Out of these crevices, carved and scarred, God can miraculously sustain someone else if we’re willing to invite them to the riverbank. May your valleys shape you into a deep source of encouragement in another’s famine, even if you feel you're just a trickle of hope.

What friend, colleague, or child could you inspire with a vision for their life, like my parents did for me, by pointing out a truth that “has their name written all over it”?

Matthew 6:19-34

I remember looking out my window during the early days of Covid, watching the birds pecking at the ground in tireless expectation and noticing the flowers blooming once again, just as they always did every spring. How normal our backyard seemed for them. The worries of the world hadn’t changed their routines, and I found myself longing with King David in his fifty-fifth Psalm, “Oh that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest.”

But I don’t have wings, so there is no escaping anxiety by fleeing to a fantasy world. The real world threatens, so I busy my hands resolving worries with work: investing, gathering, saving, making, learning, planning, earning, spending, fixing, beautifying, perfecting... and all this effort brings me face to face with my limitations.  

Whether it’s abilities, gifting, or season of life, there’s a limit to my activity, and limits often seem disadvantageous to existence in the world. Beyond that, living for kingdom priorities of heavenly treasure instead of earthly possessions, and of generosity instead of self-absorption, intensifies the question of how will I survive? Do I even dare ask, is there a chance I can thrive?

Jesus answers the first anxious question by pointing to the birds. These tiny creatures are limited to life without hands to plant, harvest, or store away, but their Creator, whose design for them was intentional, feeds them their daily portion. Every worm plucked from the ground is an act of God’s provision. He doesn’t father the birds, yet he feeds them.

But is mere survival all we can expect in kingdom living? Interestingly, Jesus does not continue to use utilitarian design in order to illustrate the Father’s concern for us.  If the basics of food, water, and shelter were His strict parameters for care, Jesus could have continued His speech with, “And don’t you see how fluffy the birds become in winter? They have all the protection they need to survive, so don’t worry about clothes.”

Instead, He asks us to consider wild lilies whose lifespan and contribution is limited, but whose adornment is unrivaled by royalty. Their flourishing indicates something more than brand names and gold rings can indicate in our human world: it indicates thriving from the inside out. Jesus refers to these wildflowers as evidence that the body is more to Him than just the fabric we layer on top of it, and our obsession with externals is backwards. God doesn’t father the flowers, yet he provides for and delights in their brief and genuine flourishing. Imagine his delight in ours. 

God is not just Creator, but Father to His children, those of us with a little faith and countless limitations. He is fully aware of what hinders us and of the limitations we wish were not ours, but it’s often those that point to His care.  When we are as diligent as the birds in our daily pursuit of His kingdom and as dependent as the wildflowers to flourish with His character, we operate within the kingdom ecosystem. Our surviving and thriving, as a result, will be to our Father’s credit and delight.

Do some bird watching with Him, and notice the wildflowers.

Matthew 6:1-18

There are a few chapters in the Bible that I come back to regularly, no matter the season, and they always seem to apply, no matter the situation. They’re the chapters that have, over time, most deeply shaped and reshaped my view of God, myself, and my place in His kingdom on earth. When I question if God cares for me, doubt my identity, battle anxiety, forget the priorities, think it’s all vanity,...they’re the chapters that center me. I might call them my personal formation chapters. 

One of them is Matthew 6. If you skim through it, you might notice how many times the word Father is repeated, a sure sign that this is a theme.  I counted twelve times, the most famous found in verse 9, when Jesus teaches his disciples to begin their prayers by addressing, “Our Father in heaven…” He used a similar phrase in the first verse of this chapter, which means He’s told us twice that our Father is in heaven. 

There is certainly consolation in that. Our Father is in a place above all things, so nothing is outside of His authority. Our Father is in a place of perfection, so our future with Him will be whole. Our Father is in a place of eternality, so His existence is unending. 

But is heaven the only place to be assured of our Father’s presence? So often, heaven seems like a land far away, somewhere over the rainbow. Where on earth is our Father when you’re quietly working a side job to support someone in need, thanklessly changing diapers and treating fevers at midnight, regularly showing up for a friend with cancer, achingly praying for a spouse?  Is the Father loftily observing from a distance?

Verses 6 and 18 whisper the answer, doubly emphasizing another place we find our Father, calling Him “your Father who is in secret.” The very Father who is in heaven, is your Father in secret, unseen moments. If I believe what Jesus repeats twice about our Father in a heavenly place, then I lean into what He repeats twice about my Father in a hidden place. He is invisible, and the invisible is what catches His eye. 

Your unannounced giving, unobserved praying, and unnoticed fasting are where your Father waits to reward you.  But maybe it’s because those are the moments we linger in least and publicize most, that we don’t experience His presence like He intends. Maybe it’s because we hate to feel invisible, that we aren’t transformed to His likeness as He intends.

Giving. Praying. Fasting.

In which of these practices are you joining your Father’s invisibility to enjoy His presence more fully?

Time: My thoughts about it & a resource for spending it

On Redeeming Your Time, by Jordan Raynor

I have a really hard time in an arcade (I’m sorry if you own one - maybe yours is different!). Call me snobby, but it’s an attack on my senses: the neon lights, the unrelated sounds altogether, the aroma of fries and sweat. Even worse, it’s an attack on my sense of justice: the games that you can never really beat and the ticket exchange. 

The ticket exchange. I may have waited on the fringe of the chaos while my boys were playing, but this is my moment. I willingly emerge from the sidelines to guide, to process, and to help them make the most informed choice. The glass checkout counter invites a long decision-making process, arranging the options from 2-ticket erasers to out-of-reach Xboxes. 

With only so many tickets to redeem, even if they strategically pool their resources, they’ve spent more for pencils, stickers, and slime than I’d ever agree to pay for those things. I have a really hard time in an arcade. 

But in life, how many minutes have I spent like arcade tickets, exchanging them for plastic prizes, as if that’s what time is worth? Time spent culminates into life spent. My spending of time is my spending of life itself, and when I turn in at the end of the day, I want to know that time was well-spent. I only have so much of it.

In Redeeming Your Time, Jordan Raynor examines Jesus’ life and extrapolates practical principles for living out our minutes, hours, and days to their fullest potential.  It’s a book filled with both grace and truth: grace, because a relationship with Christ isn’t about more productive days, and truth, because too often we carelessly waste our days without the thought of Christ.  

He gently and passionately explores topics like organizing commitments, filtering the use of technology, and enjoying our limited capacity. He writes like he’s inviting a friend into something he can’t wait for the friend to experience, not like someone analyzing your time card.  

My biggest take-away from Redeeming Your Time is the step he calls “Practice 3: Schedule deep-work appointments with yourself”. Deep work is a concept about important projects that demand all of your attention over a period of time, and we only have the ability to do a limited amount of deep work each day.  When I’m working on something that matters deeply and needs intense focus, I should schedule that at the time of day when I am my strongest self.  

So when is your energy highest, and what are you pouring it into during that time frame? Please don’t say arcades!