Healing the Inevitable Ills – Dealing with the Hurts of Life

At the very thought of the school reunion Bob was dressing for made his hands perspire and his forehead furrow tensely. A man senior in years, he’d lived in the shadow of this sort of ordeal for decades. Meeting nemeses of bygone eras, those who took great delight in making him pee his pants in bullied fear, wasn’t something that he could really even bear to contemplate. Yet, he goes there for his sister and brother and to present as a family—little do they know of his quaking fear.

In another part of the world there’s James, a respected older real estate agent. His former life has involved twenty years of work in an ambulance service. Death is such a part of James he can no longer escape it. He couldn’t tell what it is about his experiences of road, industry and home traumas that continue to spook him because they simply don’t (at a conscious level)—yet he’s bizarrely and deeply scarred in ways he can’t reconcile.

For a third person, the unreconciled difficulty is something that we all tend to carry with us when it hits us. The death of a loved one that hankers on for the rest of their life—they miss them so. It’s almost like they never existed, but for the actual memory they did. This only makes the biting, entrapping pain more acute.

Every one of us carries ills—hurts, traumas, phobias, even disappointments, bitterness and resentments. These happen to us. They are done to us. Some perhaps are more prone than others. Some are in the firing line for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)—the environment sets up the hurts of life. For others, there is the genetic predisposition. And, there are permeations of the two in any mixture we care to name.

Whether it’s bullying, PTSD, coping effectively with loss, or even managing to forgive someone or ourselves there is an appropriate way out of the mess.

I posit that this has more to do with our own self-acceptance and self-forgiveness than anything else. I mean, why on earth would a child blame themselves for their parents’ divorce? This logic-defying fact is a sharp clue to our very human dilemma.

We see ourselves in the hurt—we see blame in the hurt. We subconsciously resolve to attribute blame where it will stick i.e. firmly in our very own laps.

Deep down, at a level below the conscious mind, Bob blames himself for being “a wimp.” The fact is he was bullied. He was treated unfairly. He simply responded as most people would. He protected himself. James, likewise, protected his logical mind from the emotional carnage so he could do his work effectively; only later did he feel guilty for not being more humane in his feelings toward the poor dead people he dealt with. But, he actually did the right thing. The mother who lost her infant baby and never had time to grieve; she’d rather blame herself to protect the lost baby she cannot possibly protect. That “logic” makes sense to her at the deeper level.

We blame ourselves for far too much in this very human life of ours. Knowledge of this overly-emotional default to our behaviour is crucial.

Dealing with the matters of healing and self-acceptance is another matter, but challenging our ignorance (or denial) is the crucial starting point.

The logical mind comes to our rescue every time—why do we not use it more, training it for the conscious work of daily, in-the-moment, cognisant battle? Re-training our minds is critical.

Facts we must meditate on, in consciously re-training our conscious (and therefore impacting eventually on our sub-conscious) minds:

ü We did the best we could, with the available knowledge we had, at the time.

ü Even if we had the choice and took the easier path, everyone struggles for courage, patience and wisdom. Everyone makes morally-bad choices.

ü Our parents did the best they could with the knowledge and experiences they had to work with. Often abuses carry through the generations. To forgive them is to forgive ourselves.

The process of healing is just that—a process. Accepting and forgiving ourselves is a closer issue than most people think. If we have unresolved hurts, likewise, they’re at source much closer than we would otherwise think. They’re within us—something only we can control.

Hit this hard: our happiness and functionality depend on it. We must be gentler with ourselves. Herein lays the key to life, the abundant life.

© S. J. Wickham, 2009.

Never Seen the Fullness of God? Where Have You Been?

“Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
Has it not been told you from the beginning?
Have you not understood since the earth was founded?”

—Isaiah 40:21 (all passages, TNIV).

How would we begin to describe the works and character of God to a stranger to our planet—an alien from another planet? One big, deep breath would breathe anticipation into the very thought of launching a great task like that. Yet, there are people who call this planet their home who cannot see the living glory of this all-creating God, let alone begin to comprehend with awe the dazzling truth.

Of all the passages in Job 38 – 41, Proverbs 8, and many psalms as well as other biblical references perhaps it’s this one in Isaiah which most successfully links and introduces the theme of salvific comfort and the truth of the gospel—strength for living is wrought in weakness (vv. 40:28ff).

But, we miss out when we skip right over a section like Isaiah 40:21-26 in search of imagery of weary youth, eagle’s wings and all that. This passage begins by arousing wonder-filled curiosity; imagine the wonderment of the person who has seen and experienced the works of God in the midst of someone who’s not. How could we not see the evidence of God, present since the very dawn of time, at least?

And what of his grand position in the commanding bastions of the heavens?

“He sits enthroned above the circle of the earth,
and its people are like grasshoppers.
He stretches out the heavens like a canopy,
and spreads them out like a tent to live in.”

—Isaiah 40:22.

When we read truly we can see. We can picture the heavens. We see him anthropomorphized (seen in human form even though God is not human) and we see ourselves as perhaps he sees us. Even those in royalty are like ants, beavering on, over and around the earth feverishly, yet quite inconsequentially, without even the remotest thought of the Almighty.

“He brings princes to naught
and reduces the rulers of this world to nothing.”

“No sooner are they planted,
no sooner are they sown,
no sooner do they take root in the ground,
than he blows on them and they wither,
and a whirlwind sweeps them away like chaff.”

—Isaiah 40:23-24.

We’re a staggeringly frail lot, but how ignorant are we to stand there and shake our stupid fists at God. Yet, even in the pathetic image of our delusion he derides us not. His voluminous, most capacious grace reacts only in the presence of truth, not responding to totally sweep us away, or at best, just utterly embarrass us.

The light of our years seems so long. A year or three seems to take an eternity and we bemoan the small but significant challenges ever before us; we make it twenty or thirty of those seasons and yet we look back at basically nothing—how could this be so? We’re confused and overwhelmed. We cannot fathom both the fullness and emptiness of life in the context of God—in our comparatively small minds it doesn’t compute.

“‘To whom will you compare me?
Or who is my equal?’ says the Holy One.

“Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens:
Who created all these?
He who brings out the starry host one by one,
and calls them each by name.
Because of his great power and mighty strength,
not one of them is missing.”

—Isaiah 40:25-26.

And the final word becomes this. When we see just but a glimpse of all the foregoing how could we even think of transgressing the spiritually proud, deluded person—even in their rank oppression of us and others. Their blind rebellion is pitiful. We could only plead God to remove the blinds from their eyes.

The mystery and majesty of God is tantamount to the blowing of our minds, so reverent are we in our collapsing prostrate before him in the slightest recognition of who and what he is and what he represents.

© S. J. Wickham, 2009.

What in the World is Love, Anyway?

“What is love, anyway… does anybody love anybody anyway.”

—Howard Jones, What is Love (1984).

Set a task: discuss love. No instruments of help, no reference material whatsoever. Can the average man describe love, 1 Corinthians 13 style, and get it almost just about right? Love, for starters, is a broad and abstract concept enshrined at its most fundamental as the selfless act. That’s a bold front. Can that hugely broad thing of love be caged by that simple three-worded concept?

If we think of Paul’s charge to the Corinthians as in having them taste, touch and smell love through the rich imagery of word pictures he uses, we too can taste, touch and smell love. It’s not some wishy-washy thing we go all gooey over. It’s a tangible and raw definable act resplendent in the blessing of another, to the exception of ourselves.

Yet, would this love acceptably meet us, ourselves, blessing occasionally the vendor? Most certainly, and perhaps this is the point; that the person most apt at loving (recalling it’s selflessly delivered) is the person who has bestowed upon themselves, love.

What is love if not an act above and beyond all acts? An act reliant on nothing but the pure and holy aversion to selfishness, it could easily be. But, surely it’s more positive than that. Patient it is; enduringly patient. Kind, generous, not boastful. We know from Mr. Peterson that love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have. Love holds its things lightly; not so its rank opposite number, fear. Fear grabs, grasps, holds, squeezes tightly, suffocates. Not love.

Love is tangible.

Love is tickles and laughter.

Love is cooking dinner, doing the dishes, or both!

Love is helping each other out.

Love is playing and spending time together.

Love is hugs and kisses.

Love is foot and back massages.

Love is unexpected gifts.

Love is sitting quietly together.[1]

© S. J. Wickham, 2009.

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[1] Sarah J Wickham, Love is (Perth, Australia: SJW Especially for you, 2008). This was my Christmas gift, a one-off photo book dedicated to the memory of 1 Corinthians 13:4-7.

The Leader’s Deceit and the Catastrophic Consequences

There was once a great leader of one of the most powerful nations on earth. This person commanded the respect of all who knew him and all who knew of him—he not only had the position but he had earned their respect through his many successful, beguiling conquests.

He was both noble and humble and he stood for justice and was an advocate for the weaker people of poor standing who needed him. He took great blows for these marginalised people and he used his power and influence courageously in the most selfless of ways.

But, one day whilst he was attending diligently to the people’s needs he fell unwittingly for a trap. He began to ask himself what personal gain he was getting for all the grief and heartache he was receiving as to the testimony of an advocate. He began thinking about the personal costs of his selflessness.

It just seemed as though he was being used more and more and that the people were beginning to take him, and his power and compassion, for granted.

The more the leader thought about it the more he saw this new hideous, insidious reality—this people didn’t deserve his gracious leadership, after all, they behaved most of the time like a rabble of whingers!

The leader began to become more and more blinded to the people’s genuine plight—which was an ever-present predicament—and he became more and more sensitive to his own needs.

Soon he was investing his time, effort and money in pursuits that, in the balance of things, were to his benefit more directly. The sinking focus on the people he was governing was starting to show in many ways.

The unsheltered poor and the vulnerable widows, for instance, were the first to notice the changes. Crime increased. Security also dwindled and fear began to reign. Soon even soldiers and high-ranking officials, and even the very privileged, were taken to hiding from the night.

On one particular night there was a vicious rape and murder committed—the likes of which this nation had never ever seen before. The very same night three shops were torched with one shop-keeper incinerated, and a poor beggar was mugged, mutilated and left for dead—he later died. Everyone who had been a victim had been representative of those humble persons who genuinely needed the leader’s courageous and righteous sense of justice.

It took this ugly set of inhumane incidents for the leader to finally realise that things were going horribly wrong and that he might possibly be the only one capable of arresting the slide. Only later did he work out—in real practical terms—that with great authority comes great responsibility.

The more the leader turned his eye and ear to the truth of the recent past, and of his selfishness, the more he learned how far his apple had fallen from the sovereign tree. He was devastated. He committed every day to repent of his great sin and restore the place of his dominion to what it once was.

The leader did manage to arrest the societal decay that was rapidly forming. It was hard for him to be humbled in this way but he did manage to re-establish control over a significant time period.

And the moral to the story for the leader is?

“Should you seek great things for yourself? Seek them not.”

—Jeremiah 45:5a (NIV).

© S. J. Wickham, 2009.

The Deserted City of the Aching Soul

“How lonely sits the city

that once was full of people!

How like a widow she has become,

she that was great among the nations!

She that was a princess among the provinces

has become a vassal.”

—Lamentations 1:1 (NRSV).

Calamity and ruin hit the heart in an instant as the soul is carried off into exile—not an entire nation this time; just a single person, and it’s us! For these sharp hours of the initiation it seems we’re strangely numb yet we hardly want it as real and as stark as it is right now.

How would it have been to be carried off into exile? Everything you ever knew and held dear, gone! Sure, the troupe travels together, but God’s blown away—the Presence of God—gone is the Foundation of the people of God. It’s not really something that we Westerners will ordinarily identify with, except that is, if it occurs that we (personally) are the nation (the entity) carried off, with all sense of identity departed.

Our foundation can also be ripped away. It happens far easier than we think. And that’s just it; we don’t think about it until it happens—and why should we?

Driving around in a daze in the midnight hours, alone without another soul knowing (or caring) as the exile had just begun. It’s harrowing stuff. Perhaps it’s a lost job; lost relationships/partners certainly cover it; or perhaps it’s even material loss—bankruptcy even. It’s an oblivion we couldn’t foresee and therefore it’s something we couldn’t plan or prepare for.

Desolation blows through the ghost town of the soul for a time; harsh shallow winds bring a streaming rain of blasting dust intent on eroding the sensitive soul. Eeriness—the lack of presence—all except a tirade of loneliness. Utterly cast down, and never to be risen; not for the finite times before us, anyway.

But, just like the 70-year exile was for the Israelites, the time comes for us to resume our planned activities as the problems that beset us are sooner or later overthrown. The period in the wilderness is here for a time and it seems like an eternity, yet it passes, inevitably.

© S. J. Wickham, 2009.

Only for the Greater Good

“So the king said, ‘Bring me a sword,’ and they brought a sword before the king. The king said, ‘Divide the living boy in two; then give half to the one, and half to the other’.”

—1 Kings 3:24-25 (NRSV).

There are priorities and values in the greater part of life; things that cannot be compromised. Yet, what happens when there are two of seemingly equal value—what then? The example of King Solomon’s sovereign wisdom—the situation of a test of two prostitutes’ testimony regarding their respective babies (one dead; one living) and the fight over the living one—is a great example of wise decisiveness shelling the true priority from the fake.

But not all issues in life are seemingly so cut and dried. Some matters reflect two equally great things, or two equally great paths to take.

Enter the greater value of discernment; not a quality betrothed on all, I’m afraid. The discretion of wisdom in accessing the given context to determine the remedies to be applied is critical—but, surely, there’s more to it.

Solomon shows the real value of discernment in working out very effectively his role as sovereign advocate. Yes, that’s right; his role wasn’t simply about deciding an awe-enthralling climax involving a sword, blood and tears. His incisiveness was most keenly felt in standing up for the poorer woman—the person truly poor of spirit (Matthew 5:3).

Solomon could just as easily have not convened a hearing and let them go on squabbling—with the risk that the wrong woman would keep the baby. She’d effectively been negligent in the care of her own baby, so this would perhaps have been a double blow. Mum loses living baby; mother of dead baby gets another but doesn’t have adequate reason to care for it.

Wisdom, true wisdom—in sovereign or leadership roles, is about discernment driven by a heart for advocacy.[1] And this is a feature of the best, most inspiring leadership—guidance, headship and control that can be at first, trusted, and secondly modelled upon.

And this is one of the theological lessons of Old Testament history. The best judges and kings put their God, and therefore their people, first. By putting their own prosperity last they inevitably were blessed with first.

And what of today’s example? Is it any different? Hardly. It’s a wisdom truth preserved in the code of life—a Narnian ‘deeper magic.’ Those who lead are to do so in these ways. We lead by courage and faith. We lead by putting the cause and others first—ourselves last.

True leadership is both a gospel activity and a gospel reality:

“Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”

—Mark 9:35b (NRSV).

What does this say about the modus operandi of the true leader? He or she is first, servant.

© S. J. Wickham, 2009.

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[1] John W. Olley, First & Second Kings: Then and Now – ‘In the midst of change, God.’ (Sydney, Australia: Morling Press, 2001), pp. 27-28.

Struggling Well – A Transcendent, Godly State

“This calls for patient endurance on the part of the people of God who keep his commands and remain faithful to Jesus.”

—Revelation 14:12 (TNIV).

It might be more a sign of what’s required in the end times (which, I might add, we’re currently in), but the above passage also fits well with the here-and-now i.e. this sentence fits both now and to come. The refrain ‘this calls for patient endurance’ is actually mentioned also in the previous chapter (viz., 13:10). Paul also alluded to the Corinthian ‘patient endurance’ in his second letter (2 Corinthians 1:6). Patient endurance is the hallmark of the spiritually mature.

I’ve heard it said now several times that the truly mature person knows how to struggle well, endemically without complaint or compromise. The person who struggles consistently well is wise, reliable and adult-like in demeanour.

There’s always an extra dimension (or two) to these things that has to be factored in—always. These factors carry a personalised flavour and they taint the ability to struggle well, so the struggle quite often reaches momentous proportions. None of us it seems goes untouched in this way.

For instance, I’ve found dealing with those who don’t care when perhaps they should always makes struggling well all the more harder for me. Most of the time I simply accept it, but at times I must especially remember the Latin saying, Illegitimi non carborundum.

I must constantly remember that it is only those with an active (in-the-moment) faith in Jesus that genuinely (i.e. authentically) transcend the vulgar minority, and they enter the grand arena of the higher mind in exactly this way. For, when I don’t remember this covering truth I’m instantly open to pathetic complaint and compromise on an earthly scale far short of heaven—a missing of the mark!

To struggle well should be our daily, hourly, minute-by-minute charge—to institutionalise that thinking until it becomes an automatic synaptic-like trigger to rebound from, when faced with the temptation to the ordinary, carnal mode of behaviour.

© S. J. Wickham, 2009.

On the Fact of Christian Persecution in 2009

“Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

—Matthew 5:11-12 (NIV).

In Afghanistan the persecution of the very few Christians there is rife. Christianity is against the law. “The constitution states that Islam is the ‘religion of the state’ and that ‘no law can be contrary to the beliefs and provisions of the sacred religion of Islam.’”[1] Practically, to be evangelical in Afghanistan is to risk death.

Open Doors estimated that it was so bad in 2008 its position rose from 10^th worst to 7^th, but still it is North Korea (the only country which is classified as undergoing “severe persecution”) that takes out first place and has done for seven straight years—this is in a competition no one wants to win. But, wait, there’s more. Afghanistan rose again in the rankings this year—from 7^th to 4^th worst due mostly to pressure from the Taliban.[2]

“Remember the words I spoke to you: ‘No servant is greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also. If they obeyed my teaching, they will obey yours also.”

—John 15:20 (NIV).

The mode of persecution is still largely an externalised reality for me. Satan can soon have people like me feeling guilty for being blessed enough to live largely untouched by this sort of trouble, but that’s not really the point—the self-absorbed reality of guilt. The point is there are many thousands each day, millions even, who suffer for the simple fact of their faith—still today.

If persecution is a fact we have to live with, and the Word of God says so about this world and troubles we’ll collectively face for our faith, this is the preferred position:

“We ought always to thank God for you, brothers and sisters, and rightly so, because your faith is growing more and more, and the love all of you have for one other is increasing. Therefore, among God’s churches we boast about your perseverance and faith in all the persecutions and trials you are enduring.”

—2 Thessalonians 1:3-4 (TNIV).

We would always prefer that the love among the saints of the persecuted is increasing and that these people are suffering and struggling well, mature (and maturing) in the faith. And this is said without any intent of flippancy, as we ourselves, in our mildly affected ways, still have the opportunity to also suffer well i.e. faithfully regarding our own social, anti-Christian locale—a place where Satan’s strategies to sway us from God are alive and well. The prevalence of the breakdown of the family unit in Western culture is but one testimony of this fact.

© S. J. Wickham, 2009.

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[1] Open Doors, World Watch List. Retrieved 17 November 2009. See page 6 of the report: http://www.opendoorsusa.org/UserFiles/File/Open%20Doors%20World%20Watch%20List%202009.pdf

[2] Ibid.

Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200

“The godly may trip seven times, but they will get up again.

But one disaster is enough to overthrow the wicked.”

—Proverbs 24:16 (NLT).

The title may be a play on the Hasbro/Parker Brothers game, Monopoly^TM, but it’s etched in truth as a life-aligning paradigm for true, sustainable success.

Here’s the rub: God cannot raise a person up (in the correct, sustainable way of things) unless that person is first “humble-able”—for want of a better, equally succinct word.

But, I hear you say, ‘Well, what about the many irresponsible ones that do climb the ladder, rising to great heights, albeit prematurely (from a moral development viewpoint)?’ God has his purpose in these things, however inexplicable. It’s like he accedes to the insistent demands of some, so they can get a better taste, eventually, of what their proud hearts deserve. Again, the process is about humility—and there are many ways to that end. The “wicked” are, therefore, the morally inept; the short-cutters of the right order of things.

Anyone in a significant life position should have a requisite amount of the appropriate moral grounding. The operative word is “should.”

Without the right moral grounding all the climbing to the top comes potentially to nought—don’t pass go; don’t collect the $200—as these people are soon getting what’s been coming to them for years, without partiality. All play by the same rules, and, without dispute. When the dominos fall no correspondence can be entered into. Who can argue (with any effect to the contrary) with God’s natural justice?

And in this way, as outsiders or insiders, we can quietly and humbly chuckle in agreement with God as he delves out his just judgment; for justice is balance.

But, we are wise to consider this advice:

“Don’t be happy when your enemy is defeated;

don’t be glad when he is overwhelmed.

“The Lord will notice and be displeased.

He may not be angry with them anymore.”

—Proverbs 24:17-18 (NCV).

When people suffer for their misdemeanours and are brought swiftly back to the starting line in life they’re brought back for a reason; it’s another chance to learn some of the more basic things—things that were missed first (or thirty-first) time around. This is an adherence for the correct basis and correct order of things—for the moral world always comes first (though it might often seem it doesn’t).

It’s the way the Lord designed it. And humility drives this earnestness of enquiry.

When we’re for some reason cast to the ground in life, it’s often (though not always) a chance to learn in humility what we passed too breezily beforehand.

© S. J. Wickham, 2009.

The Common Message to the Seven Churches in Revelation

“Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches. Whoever conquers will not be harmed by the second death.”

—Revelation 2:11 (NRSV).

(Italics used for emphasis.)

The words of the Lord Jesus to the churches targeted in John’s Revelation propound the grand and authoritative message: obedience pays. Whilst few of these churches were actually found to be acceptably obedient—as God’s standard for obedience is on the Spiritual basis of allegiance to him i.e. of listening to his Spirit—the expounded warning was there’s still time to about-face and rectify the anomalies.

Here’s what Christ said to the churches, which were mentioned, incidentally, probably in physical visitation order:

To Ephesus (Revelation 2:1-7)

The Ephesians, whilst they toiled hard, had lost their first love. The letter to the angel at Ephesus is strikingly stark in its polar findings; some strong points of obedience are found, but it’s motivated wrongly—the central star is not Christ. Yet, they’re promised to be able to eat from the tree of life in the paradise of God, if they conquer this problem, coming back to Christ.

To Smyrna (2:8-11)

The angel at Smyrna is warned of the coming persecution and told not to worry, for after ten days of endurance, deliverance with come forth. There is no harm in the second death for those who conquer this fear of persecution.

To Pergamum (2:12-17)

This church was no stranger to persecution—living right in the midst of Satan’s throne. Yet, there’s evidence here that the angel of this church is rebuked for their following of certain false teachers, manifested in sinful practices. Black stone was everywhere in Pergamum—for those who would conquer, a precious, unique white stone was promised.

To Thyatira (2:18-29)

Thyatira was an industrial city and prone to fornication and food offered to idols. To this church acknowledgement is given for their enhanced maturity, yet there’s a fatal flaw—they’ve tolerated a woman, Jezebel; one who calls herself a prophet but is in fact promoting the sins of the city.

The angel is told, however, there are many at this church who Christ ‘will not lay another burden.’ To them who conquer, the morning star will be given; authority over the nations in Christ’s name.

To Sardis (3:1-6)

Again the message is given in such rich imagery the church finds obvious in their context. Sardis had industry in dying garments. Proximity to this image of “white” or “soiled” garments brings home a powerful message. The angel is told that a false reputation for being alive is no good in the presence of God.

The ones who repent of the false deeds of ‘looking good’ (i.e. conquer this sin) will not be blotted out of the book of life; they’ll be clothed in white robes and presented blameless to the Father, in Jesus’ name.

To Philadelphia (3:7-13)

To this angel, it is said, they had limited power but they were still faithful. To this church—for being essentially faithful and blameless—protection is afforded. They’re to be made a “pillar in the temple of my God” (NRSV) and will have the name of God written on them, for they have already conquered.

To Laodicea (3:14-22)

This church was ‘lukewarm.’ Lukewarmness had a special meaning for this church that had insufficient minerals in their water. Useless water was a good image for spiritual lukewarmness. Christ cannot tolerate such lukewarm affection—they were to be spat out of his mouth. In Laodicea was an eye institute, so ‘salve for the eyes’ would have been a austere image.

The ever-graceful Christ, however, gives them a final charge to repent, to hear his knocking at their door. For the one who conquers will have a place before his throne.

© S. J. Wickham, 2009.

Acknowledgement: some information from the New Testament lectures of Dr. Evelyn Ashley is used herein.

Thank You, Lord, for My Own Private Gethsemane

“He took Peter, James and John along with him, and he began to be deeply distressed and troubled. ‘My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,’ he said to them.”

—Mark 14:33-34a (NIV).

Biblical metaphors are present in life all the time. When people question the relevancy of the Bible we can respectfully be quite dumbfounded when we consider the very real-to-life biblical accounts.

It simply defies rational thought that the truths of the Bible can’t be seen in life today, yesterday and tomorrow. And in case parables, miracles and tales of history aren’t enough, there’s the wisdom writings, including the psalms, which advise and empathise—this Word is so practical many literally live on it.

Let’s apply the metaphor of Gethsemane—Jesus’ agonising in the garden prior to being frog-marched into custody. There are so many angles when we begin to think about it.

è There’s the time when we’re left alone to suffer; the time when it appears God has deserted us.

è Not only does it appear that God is absent, trusted others have fallen asleep on the job or have gone A.W.O.L. right in the time of our most urgent need.

è We’re at the depths of our sorrow—indeed, close to death, emotionally speaking.

è We pray and we pray and we pray—yet, there’s no answer. Is that God’s will? We resolve that it must be, but it doesn’t help us.

è We pray that his will be done—not ours, but unlike Jesus, we often don’t want to be held to that reality.

è We’re physically close to others yet they’re far from us; does the concept of feeling ‘alone in a crowded room’ seem familiar?

I think I’ve made my point; however, this list is not exhausted. But, that’s not the key point. The key point is we can thank God for all our living experience, especially the ones where there is a biblical precedent that Jesus endured.

Jesus, whilst he might have been temporarily cut off from the Father in the garden, sought God in prayer. In his difficulty he drew close to the Father, and in ours we have the very same opportunity.

The blessing of blessings in this is when we’re in our very own private gardens of Gethsemane we’re approaching the surest, all-conquering loneliness known to humankind—a type of Presence of God is experienced that surpasses all others. And it’s here, alone, we’re blessed with his most intimate healing touch.

To have endured even one true Gethsemane experience is a tonic that provides the heart with the muscle memory to last a lifetime. Indeed, in the context of heart-rending pain, this closeness to God is ironically alluring and a treasure we hold dear for the rest of our lives—we often want to return to it.

And, so, we are thankful for it.

© S. J. Wickham, 2009.

Answering a World Full of Cynicism and Sarcasm

“In a world filled with hate, we must still dare to hope. In a world filled with anger, we must still dare to comfort. In a world filled with despair, we must still dare to dream. And in a world filled with distrust, we must still dare to believe.”

—Michael Jackson.

I recall a friend recently mention the worldly family’s proclivity in raising cynical, sarcastic children, and I agree, this seems to be the sharpest difference between the child brought up in a spiritual environment and one not. This is an easy thing to observe.

Cynicism and sarcasm, though they feel cool, are a trick of thinking. The dominant thought when we engage in them is we think we’re smarter than others, smarter even than God. It’s the chief blight on humankind that we’re like this. It’s so entrapping—a curse over our being.

If anyone knew the harshest side to this cynicism and sarcasm it would have been Michael Jackson. Indeed, there would scarcely have been more belligerent divergence between people’s responses of love and hate than toward the King of Pop.

The only way anyone can resist the worldly push toward this terrible God-forsaken phenomenon is to embrace a purity of mind and a love-giving heart, repelling every instinct toward it.

The quote of Jackson’s at top expresses this desire; to resist the prevailing “easy” way to go and go on beyond that, to hope and not hate; to comfort, not falling instead for selfish rage; to dream beyond the despair—and finally to choose to believe rather than go the selfish “safe” way of distrusting all.

The unbelief of the world is shocking and it’s right after the prince of this world himself. Satan swims in lies and innuendo and simply loves it when we do too. He’s not interested in whether we believe in God or not. He just wants to interrupt the flow and cause the subtlest division.

Cynicism and sarcasm are two of his favourite weapons which he foists joyously and sadistically between the spokes of our wheels of faith sending us over our moral handlebars and flat on our backs. They undermine, confuse and condemn—they betray truth point blank.

And we ought to be ever watchful. Whenever we fall for cynicism and sarcasm—and we all do—we fall right into a deceptive pit, and this is a place we’d never personally want to be caught in, within touch of the sight of God.

We think we can get away with it when we engage. It’s a trick. It’s an ethical and moral trick of justice. Let us remember there is One who sees all.

The fear of the Lord helps us.

© S. J. Wickham, 2009.

Psalm 103 – A Premier Psalm of Mercy and Grace

“For as high as the heavens are above the earth,

so great is [the Lord’s] love for those who fear him.”

—Psalm 103:11 (NIV).

Fear is a principle of constancy in life. Life would not be life without it. It’s fear that extracts the best out of us in courage, and it’s also fear that reveals the worst in us as we fall for all vagaries of twists, wiles and temptations in a spiritual world of trickery for the faithless—our problem in sum.

I once described Psalm 119 as a theological monster. This psalm has a similar pedigree, both from theological and evangelistical viewpoints. With its shoots of praise and shards of loyal testimony it trumpets a regality of faith and reverence that’s hard to match, biblically, anywhere.

The scope of the psalm broadens significantly from its opening verses, from the personal to the social, to the national, and then finally to the heavenly.[1] Its structure is also layered so far as a semi-helical thematic repetition is concerned.[2]

The fear of the Lord is positioned as a refrain throughout, and woven into its fabric are themes such as hesed (Heb: steadfast love), remembrance and compassion.

Before a more thorough analysis, a brief excursus on the fear of the Lord is required:

“The fear of the Lord is simply reverence practiced in trust and obedience.”[3]

The fear of the Lord is therefore simply what every believer should do in putting God at the forefront of their practical lives.

The psalm takes the imagery of the fear of the Lord and creates for it numerous angles to acknowledge the many faultless ways God rewards those who fear him. These angles also set out to describe the greatness of God’s covenant love.

Naturally, the flow of the psalm drives steadily towards the people of God’s response. Mercy begets praise.

The hymn is dazzlingly sufficient so far as recognising the theological vastness in the human-divine gap, juxtaposing human with the divine (for instance, vv. 10, 14-15). The jury’s back in and the verdict is conclusive; for the realm of moral justice and regarding the divergences of power and capacity—God is abounding in his mercy and provision. We’re plainly not in his league, yet he places us there.

Practiced alongside the fear of the Lord is a weight of constant worship and observation over the character of God, and as this psalm shows, those traits of God are boundless. It sweeps through theological history making praiseworthy touchstones out of the generic and specific events of the Israelite account.

This psalm is packed with theological truths; a wondrous analysis of an all-mighty, all-powerful and all-merciful God, the Lord.

There are threads of both praise and of thanksgiving. As far as biblical psalms are concerned they normally hold to one or the other primarily, not both simultaneously. Perhaps this is why scholars all seem to agree its genre as that of a hymn.

There are some ironies—with such a heaving program, the psalm does present some tensions—judgment and consequences versus mercy and grace; healing diseases whilst condemning humanity to ‘days like grass.’[4]

Perhaps most exceptional of all is the fact and profile of grace. We get not what we deserve. We’re punished for our iniquities only for a time; his mercy lasts an eternity compared with his anger.

© S. J. Wickham, 2009.

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[1] Craig C. Broyles, Psalms – New International Biblical Commentary (Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson/Paternoster, 1999), p. 394.

[2] Broyles, Ibid, p. 394.

[3] James L. Mays, Psalms – Interpretation (Louisville, Kentucky: John Knox Press, 1994), p. 329-30.

[4] Broyles, Op cit, p. 397.

If You’re Going Through Hell...

“If you’re going through hell, keep going.”

—Winston Churchill.

The former British Prime Minister would’ve known more than almost any other human the very definition of this saying. Beleaguered with the stench of Hitler’s strangling tyranny on world peace, there had to be resilient and comprehensive response; one that albeit almost came too late. But, as they say, better late than never!

And we have our very own personal tyrannies. These are world shattering on the personal level. They’re those attacks and circumstances that crowd and overwhelm, mustering up within us the flight or fight response we’re naturally positioned to respond with. Yet, most of us truly want to run. We don’t want of bar of it.

However, truly, we really only have one option—if we care. We must fight and keep going; fighting the good fight:

“Fight the good fight of the faith.”

—1 Timothy 6:12a (TNIV).

If we’re truly going through a personal hell we must keep going, in faith, for the faith... faithfully. And this takes courage and wisdom and poise and patience and trust—faith.

And this is not a shallow, inefficacious message. It is our strength in the direst time. As each victorious moment passes, as we trudge ever onward—on the Kokoda Track of our souls—we find at some point, the end approaches. And our faint hopes are suddenly vindicated—strangely, often at a time we were most prepared to give up hope.

But it’s faith that holds up hope as if it were the centre pole of a marquee tent.

It’s a faith that simply and unquestionably goes on, smiling as it does—even for want of reason to smile; indeed, there is the reason. It smiles because there is no seen reason. This soul smile is the stuff of the externalities and internalities of godly faith.

“We live by faith, not by sight.”

—2 Corinthians 5:7 (TNIV).

Faith in these times is never reduced to cliché. It would never cut it. Faith simply is. It’s the ability to bear as long as it takes.

But, in the meantime, we take heart; Jesus has—for us—overcome the world! (John 16:33) And, truly, nothing else matters. Hold on and you’ll see.

“The LORD makes firm the steps
of those who delight in him;

“though they stumble, they will not fall,
for the LORD upholds them with his hand.”

—Psalm 37:23-24 (TNIV).

© S. J. Wickham, 2009.

Those Church Hurts – Just Don’t Blame Jesus!

Many fall foul of the religious system this side of the gates of eternity; and by ‘religious system’ I mean humankind’s religious constructs and constraints that handcuff the ability for deity to break through and make a real spiritual difference in a believer’s life. It happens in the world’s religions and the root cause is selfish, unreconciled humanity.

A dangerous precedent is set when this occurs. People, and especially outsiders, begin to see the fingerprints and grip marks of humanity all over the spiritual—it crowds out any viable spirituality. It humanises what was never supposed to be.

Christianity is especially prone to this. This is probably because the concept of grace, as the key differentiation between Christianity and other world religions, is particularly sensitive to human disturbance. Worldly haranguing religious leaders, in their legalism, will smother the Spirit’s gentle grace the moment they open their mouths and converse with people. It’s apparent very early.

These leaders are the overwhelming minority. I mean, I don’t actually know one of these—yet, they must exist by virtue of the stories we’re told.

It needs to be said that:

Just because most confessing Christians can’t or don’t live truly after Jesus (as much as they can) isn’t Jesus’ fault. Some people blame Jesus or God (apparently these two entities are separate according to some) for how their lives have turned out or how Christians i.e. pastors ‘have treated them.’ But, these people forget very quickly; they’ve not dealt with God, but with fallible human beings.

Pastors are no more perfect than the next person, and the vast majority will quickly point that out themselves—in fact, their theology is proved correct when they do this. Sure, they must deal with many of their own moral issues and approach a higher standard to serve adequately in the church, but perfect people they will never be—of all people, pastors know this. They know how imperfect humanity is. It is self-evident.

This takes us back to the hurt, disenfranchised person; “stung” by a church or by some negative or unloving experience of church.

Enter the inevitable paradoxes, the sweet at-times bitter ironies that confound the human being in his or her proud godless state:

Hurt people are amazingly consistent in their modus operandi—their own perception is they don’t hurt; they get hurt. They have an acute sense of the external locus of control. It’s the thing of, ‘Stuff happens to me,’ meaning they have a victim complex. To generalise and stereotype, they externalise everything and become responsible for nothing—not even that which would help their cause.

Another rampant sign of hurt people: aggression. Aggression equals fear. The aggressive personality is almost always the manifestation of an un-self-loved person deep down.

And at root—what is the source problem?

They’ve also not dealt with their own feelings of rejection. They’ve not sought God’s unconditional acceptance to ameliorate their own sense of unacceptance. Yes, the very people who reject Christ and his church are shrieking in the fear deep down—and Jesus is the only One who can save them!

What a mess! There are many unfortunates. The only thing we can pray for is the people least likely to surrender, will.

And this attends to something all people must account for: rejection and acceptance. There is nothing more profound to human experience than this. No matter how well loved we were as children, we have all felt—and are all plagued by, to varying degrees—sweeping rejection.

The unfortunates who can never constrain their fear long enough to see and admit this will crash into a Christless eternity, and that collision course beckons, even now.

The truth is we’ll always feel rejectable until we’ve genuinely felt the loving embrace of Christ—the One who never condemns, because grace can never condemn.

In Summary

There are genuine cases of people being hurt by churches. The perpetrators could not possibly know Christ, and I’d posit that they’d not dealt with their rejection, experienced Christ’s cross or swam in his unconditionally accepting grace.

Love cannot hurt. Neither can grace. But hurt people hurt people—whether these are inept ministers or the hurt people themselves. Yes, many times the people hurt in church simply haven’t dealt with their own sense of clinging rejection; they’ve not truly been introduced to the abiding grace of unconditional acceptance.

Hurt? Look within.

© S. J. Wickham, 2009.