Gathered to Him

Sometimes transliterating the scriptures brings me to a greater understanding of this amazing life. So try out this bit:

the anguished man
man of great debt
the bitter creature
gathered to the head
four hundred men

I take great license in expressing the verse this way, but not to confuse translations or the meaning of words, but to emphasize something the Spirit of the living God stirred up in me when I read this yesterday.

David was finally fleeing from Saul in a direct way. Not simply avoiding the spears and attempts upon his life as before, but willfully leaving the authority of the king, leaving the assembly of God's people to go it alone in faith.

He headed out to the 'cave of Adullam', which perhaps was a fortified bandits hideout. This is a likely case but there is no particular archaeological evidence supporting the exact cave, or the disposition of this hideout. Irregardless, this location is outside of the authority established for God's people, in defiance of the king and the established rule.

Even before this, at the very beginning of the flight, David deceives the priests and eats of the bread, the holy bread of presence set apart for God and sacred. Yet it was of God, and David was filled with the Spirit of God. Outwardly ostracized, a rebel and defiant commander in the army. AWOL and traitorous in the eyes of the king.

Yet to this man, in a bandits cave, with little apparent hope of survival, men were drawn. Anguished men, men of great debt who were unable to pay, even men of a bitter life, disturbed and restless. The gather to him, the head, the chief, a captain and sheppard to them.

Where did they get this hope? This desire and drive to serve David? From the natural perspective it seems that rebels will band together, defiant ones, joined to oppose forces that they perceive as oppression. But this is David, a hero, a humble man who considered not his own position, but fought without fear against Israels enemies. A military man, disciplined and organized. A common man, tending to the flocks of his father.

This is not the type of man rebels would be drawn to. Perhaps it was just opportunity that led them to David. Fed up with life's circumstance, with no apparent hope, the saw something in the opportunity to serve David. That may be, but I think it goes deeper, to the heart of man, where the Spirit of the Lord lays bare the purposes of life. It seems that they could see redemption, purpose, even the call of God in serving David. And perhaps they were drawn to him, not just as a band of warriors, but as a family of the living God.

For it is this sheppard, a common man who was cast away, who had the indwelling Spirit, a heart after the Father's own purpose. This man became a sheppard of men, leading them, guiding them, ministering to their needs in love. These men came not to run away from life, but to find life. Not to avoid pain and suffering, but to find redemption and healing. They became something new, no longer a band of disgruntled, anguished, irresponsible failures, but a victorious company.

Amazing love, what more can I say...

On Failure

“A thousand times I've failed, yet your mercy remains...” I sing this in my head all the time. Every day it seems, I do something that is obvious, odious, and incorrect. Oh, I know, we are just human, and yeah, “Nobody is perfect...” Except that isn't true.

The life in me is more than human, and the God of all creation, who is perfect, put that life in me. I live by that reality, exist in it, strive to release that life into the world. I am not just human, and Jesus has commanded me to be perfect, even as my Father is perfect.

But what about today? Right here, right now, as my mind struggles with my stupid actions, as my heart wrestles with guilt and self loathing? Yes, I launch out with the natural man at times. My own complaints, judgments, and opinions. And when the subject of my comments is close to my heart, like my wife, or the people who I fellowship with, I get that immediate sense of death.

I hate it, loath that place more than anything. It is like stepping out of a nice, fresh air conditioned building into the searing, dusty heat. It is like coming upon road kill as you walk down a country lane. The sent of putrescine initiating a gagging reflex.

That is how I feel spiritually, like trying to expunge a bad meal. My inner man revolts against the natural, reviles the stench of that dead flesh. Yet it happens, all too often. So what to do?

We have been taught that one can even have the appearance of wisdom by keeping silent. Yes, very true. But the natural man is tricky, he can learn to hold his tongue. He can learn to appear wise, but the inner workings of his heart remain. The opinions are the same, the judgment, the criticism.

That is how I am. I must contain my speech in order to limit offense. Also I tend to confuse people by random wanderings, not so conducive for developing friendship. I fall into traps of “motivation by guilt”, trying o do the right thing, or the wrong thing. Trying to say the right things, and not let the dead man speak.

But that is a trap itself! The -I- that tries to be spiritual, that attempts to hold my tongue, that justifies how I speak, is fallen! He is a incomplete creature, unable to save himself from error, and ultimately from death itself. In the shame of making a mistake, I try to defend myself. It hurts to fail, and especially if our failure results in other people's lives being disrupted.

When my failure results in pain and loss for me, and for others, it is especially disruptive to my life. I am exposed, revealed as a fallen, broken creature. A unfit father, husband, friend, minister, confidant, worker, soldier, and anything else that I am, broken.

My identity is tied to success at a very deep level. If I can hunt, build a big fire, and move rocks in my cave I can get a good mate. I can raise up a family, a tribe, even a nation. My name will be stamped on it, that is the natural tie that binds my soul, my identity, to my success. But nations fail, kingdoms fall, and all men return to the dust from which they arose.

We are destined for failure because of the curse of death. So today I confess that I messed up. The dead man tried to exert himself and the result is a mess. I tried to clean up myself, to justify myself, tried to analyze what went wrong. But it was a root of criticism, judgment, an opinion that sprouted into that weed.

My Lord is kind, and just. His correction is a blessing, and in that word comes great life. Like no other teacher, He wields the rod, yet provides for us a life that is free from death. In Him I find nothing to criticize. Who can judge the one who knows even the deep recesses of a man's heart? Will I decide, standing before the Father, what is of God and what is not? And what is beautiful? Have we seen beauty incomparable? Can I have an opinion that is justified after that sight?

It is Christ alone...