Prayer

"...The snares of death confronted me. In my distress I called upon the Lord; to my God I cried for help. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears. Then the earth reeled and rocked; the foundations also of the mountains trembled and quaked, because he was angry."(Psalm 18:5-7, ESV, emphasis mine) 

San Andreas Fault

As Christians, I think we feel our prayers go like this, sometimes:
Us: "God, there's this problem, and I could really use some help."
God: "Oh, ok. I'll look into it."

Sometimes prayer feels like this:
Us: "God, there's this problem, and I could really use some help."
No answer.

But this is not what we see in Psalm 18. There are three points to look at in this passage, which I highlighted above.

First of all, David, the writer of the Psalm, is desperate. He was being pursued by King Saul who wanted to kill him, because David was to be the next king. When David writes, "The snares of death confronted me," it is no exaggeration. Sometimes, we can feel really desperate, too. Maybe someone we love is sick. Maybe we don't have a job. Maybe that college we wanted to go to was too expensive. Maybe our friend just died. It could be anything - big or small - that causes us grieve or pain or despair.

Secondly, David writes, "My cry to him reached his ears." Does it feel like there is no answer? God really does hear us when we pray, even if it feels like there is a delay in His answer. And His timing is always perfect.

Lastly, we are given an extremely vivid picture, "The earth rocked and reeled; the foundations also of the mountains trembled and quaked..." Try to picture that. Can you see the earthquake? Can you see giant mountains shaking? And do you know why? It was "because he was angry." God was angry! His response to David's prayer was anger?

He is angry when His children - those for whom Christ died - are feeling pain. He is angry at the enemy that causes this pain, whether that enemy be sin, Satan, or the consequences of a fallen world (such as death and disease). He did not answer with a shrug of the shoulders and half-hearted help. He answered  as a Father caring for his own. He answered as a warrior and declared war on the enemy.

You see, He loves you that much. And in the end, you can say with David, "For this I will praise you, O Lord, among the nations, and sing to your name. Great salvation he brings to his king, and shows steadfast love to his anointed...." (Psalm 18:49-50, ESV)

The Spider that ruled the hall

In a quiet house, all quivered with fear

For there was a horror dwelling near.

It shifted around from wall to wall;

It was the Spider that ruled the hall.

Eight legs scratched the wall in a hurry,

Propelling it past in a flurry.

Passersby would stop and start staring,

“Didn't the Spider sit over there?”

All feared it greatly though none knew why,

All wished the Spider would leave or die,

Yet no one touched it – no one at all,

So it lived on and haunted the hall.

One day the Spider simply vanished,

But the minds of all remained blemished,

For still all tiptoe through the wide hall,

Fearing the Spider once on the wall.

(c) copyright - curious cognitive content - June 6, 2013

Becoming Fred

It started with a story. Actually, many stories. But they all had something in common: one of the characters does something wonderful that requires courage and love and self-sacrifice. They made me want to laugh and cry and see the story over and over again, but most importantly, they made me admire that character to the extent that I wanted to become that character.

The problem arose when, motivated by these emotions, I tried to duplicate the situation of the character to some degree. Was the character (we'll call him Fred for now) a biologist? Then I wanted to become a biologist. Was Fred a viking living in the jungle? Then I wanted to be a viking living in the jungle. Did the Fred go on an adventure in Antarctica with a battered jeep? Then I wanted a battered jeep, and somehow, I would hitch a ride to Antarctica, too. Was Fred a girl who excelled in gymnastics? Then I would take up gymnastics also. (These examples may be a little exaggerated.)

Eventually, I realized that this stupid. It was not Fred's situation I admired at all; it was his/her character. And again and again, the thing that made me love his character was his self-sacrifice which was motivated by love and achieved through courage. Fred gave up his dreams so he could work to provide for his impoverished family. Fred died saving a spaceship full of passengers. Fred took a bullet to save his friend. 

Then came my next error. If I wanted to be like Fred, then I would go out of my way to be self-sacrificing. If I wanted to read webcomics, I would do the ironing for Mom, and think all the while of what a wonderful person I was becoming. See? I put aside my own desires just to make Mom happy; wasn't that admirable of me? 

I had entirely missed the point - again. Fred's self-sacrifice had been motivated by his love for his family. Mine had been motivated by the desire to be someone like Fred, in order to gain admiration from others, and to feel good about myself. My so-called self-sacrifice was selfish. 

The more I thought about my motives, the more I realized that nothing I will ever do will have a perfectly good and pure motive. No matter how noble the action, no matter how much self-sacrifice it took for me to do it, there will always be some secret, selfish reason why I did it. But even if this is the case, it doesn't mean I should stop doing good, noble things. The ironing blessed my mom, even if I got a significant amount of selfish self-satisfaction out of it. What it does mean, though, is that I need to stop ironing because I'm trying to be like Fred, and instead, iron because I love my mom. 

And thus I come to the ironic conclusion. I must start living my own life - the life God has given to me - and not Fred's, for that is the only way I will truly become like Fred.