Sunday, September 10, 2017

Psalm 138:8: God's Story In Me

The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me. Your steadfast love, O Lord endures forever. Do not abandon the works of your hands. - Psalm 138:8 (ESV)
We don't get to see Ruth often because we don't live close. She is one of the few people who has known Helen and I since before we were married, and, as such, she has a unique perspective on our life story. After breakfast recently, she had written this verse out for me-a reminder to me.

God's Story, Not Mine

It is a reminder that it is God's purpose, not mine. The win is when God gets full credit for who he is and what he does. It his "his name and word" that are on the line (vs. 2, 4). My reputation is expendable. When I try to re-write the script so that my story is foremost, I will be disappointed.  In the psalm, even the gods (vs. 1) and the kings (vs. 4-5) give up the spotlight to God, whose Q score leaves them lost behind the decimal point.

In the play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, two minor characters from Shakespeare's Hamlet are absurdly elevated to the starring roles. The spotlight is on them and they get the the monologues. Hamlet, Ophelia, Claudius? Mere bit players! Or so they would make seem. Because whatever their individual plot lines, the play is still Hamlet's. His story drives the plot and their story is a merely sub-plot--no matter how elaborate--within his.[1]

God will have the starring role. Period. The question is: will I take the supporting role graciously? (Phil 2:9-13) For me, when people are pushing and clamoring for more spotlight, my tendency is to join them in the brawl. Its sort of a habit--a sort of significance, wall-flower fear. The sort of habit that says if nine people have some profound prayer to offer, I guess I'd better also. If three other people complain about their spouse, I need to come up with some fault so I can join in. If you went to Maui, I went to Paris. If you figured out the bug in the code, it wasn't very difficult anyway, was it? But if I solved it, it was the bug equivalent of the grand unified theory or the P=NP problem.

Why must "I must have my share in the conversation"?[2] I don't. Today is not about me, and it might even be someone else's sub-plot. But it is my part, uniquely set out for me by God.

God's Ability, Not Mine

This verse is also a reminder that God's has the ability to pull it off what he plans for me. His plans are not like a Sunday football game that is played "if conditions permit." The author of the psalm has seen this first hand. When he didn't know what to do, he asked and God answered (vs. 3a). When he wasn't sure if he had the internal willpower to do it, God reinforced (vs. 3b.) When others overlooked or ignored him, God didn't (vs. 6). When his life was threatened and people threw up obstacles, God pulled him through (vs. 7).

Have you ever had a two-body problem suddenly become a three-body problem? This happens when I'm working on a project in the back yard of my house--a simple two-body problem consisting of me and the task at hand. Then Helen interjects an opinion of what should be done or how it should be done and suddenly what was a simple two-body problem has become a three-body problem which, as everyone knows, has no general solution. Or, at least not one that makes everyone happy :-)

Yet fundamentally, all of our problems in the life of Jesus followers are three-body problems because we have invited God into our lives. When we did that, our life became more complicated--more than a matter of solving problems to our own satisfaction. But it also gained the potential to become more satisfying and more influential because no problem really worth solving is a two-body problem.

I've come to realize recently that out of cowardice--there's no nicer word for it--I often try to simplify in the worst possible way by factoring God out of the problem. I'd like to do what I want, or do it my way so I just fail to mention it to God or wait for his opinion. It's not like he can't find out, right? But honestly, its my way of trying to keep control. This habit isn't just with God, either.

Life isn't simple or safe. I can use the chainsaw on a crooked ladder while Helen is gone, and it works most of the time. But the one time I fell and ended up unable to move on my back with bruised ribs, I wondered why I didn't wait for her.

How many times have we ruefully asked ourselves why we didn't work it out with God? As Paul says, "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure." (Phil 2:12b-13)

When God fulfills his purposes for me, he guarantees what is needed. Some of the scars are needful, and others are self-inflicted.

How God Feels About Me

Finally, this verse reminds me how God really feels about me. The writer reminds God "your steadfast love, O Lord endures forever." Ouch. It is one thing to know that God is good. It is another to know how he feels about flawed people like us. It is the question Satan was really asking Eve in the garden, "Is God good? Does he really have your best interests at heart?"

The writer appeals to God's own character: his steadfast, loyal and permanent love--love that is not based on our track record of obedience, but on on God's long-standing promise to his people. That kind of God, the writer reminds God, does "not abandon the works of your hands." (vs. 8)

Paul echoes this: "And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ." (Phil. 1:6)

That cowardice comes back in me: I'm not sure I can handle God's direct attention! He is a "consuming fire" (Heb. 12:29) and we say we want to be on-fire for God, forgetting how fire burns. We are fragile and he is God. Only my confidence in God's regard for me lets me trust what he is pulling me through.




[1] Hamlet, William Shakespeare, Act V, Scene II, line 411. They both end up in the tally of the dead by the play's end.
[2] Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen, Volume 2, chapter 8 (ch. 31), Lady Catherine de Bourgh speaking.