Skip to main content

For the faint hearted

“from the end of the earth I call to you when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I, for you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the enemy.” (Psalm 61:2–3, ESV)

Lord, I am one of the weak and needy.

So much of life seems to demand our strength and composure. Life does not slow down for the weak, so we strive to be strong.

But what if we are not strong? What if our heart faints, the waters rise to our chin and the enemy pounds at the gates? What if there is no  more strength to hide the weakness?

Perhaps only now do I see myself truly. Perhaps only now do I see You truly.

Lord, I am not strong, so please be my strength.

Lord, I can't swim anymore, so rescue me from the waters.

Lord, the enemy is stronger than me, so fight for me.

With a faint heart, I cling to the Rock who is higher than I. I praise the one who was strong on my behalf. I worship the Refuge in whom I hide from the storm.



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The New Trilemma

Beknownst to many, I dread the idea of going to a karaoke bar. Unbeknownst to many, I have regular covert karaoke sessions on my commute to work. I drive an SUV with no tint on the windows, which means I'm afforded about as much cover as a fishbowl. Moreover, I possess none of the externally obvious signs that would indicate that I deserve to be rocking out like it's nobody's business (e.g. I don't care what you think musician outfit, “cool” ethnicity, etc.). Therefore I must daily find a way to perform my latest hits without the hundreds of people I see in traffic noticing. So I improvise. At the stop light, if I pull up in between the two cars in the next lane over, neither of them can really tell what I'm doing. Rock on my friend. If I can't hit one of those sweet spots between cars, I might just do every other line ...wishin they was dancin a jig... ciga-cigar right from Cuba-Cu-ba ... They might think they saw something, do a double take, but loo

What's preaching worth?

In some areas of the world, Christians still risk their lives and/or possessions for their faith. They fear angry mobs who will burn their churches, vigilantes who will punish them for believing and authorities who will either aid the locals or persecute the Christians themselves. For these Christians, church is not a social function. Church is a risk to life and livelihood. For the preacher, he risks not just his own life but he also endangers those who come to listen. For this preacher, every sermon must be worth prison, every sermon must be worth provoking the wrath of this world. He must ask himself every time, "Is this worth my life? Is this worth my congregation's life?" Why should our sermons be any different? I fear no angry mob, does it mean my sermons can be cheap? I fear no persecution, so does that mean I can spend my time giving anecdotes instead of the word of God? Just being called to be heralds of the king should sober and embolden us on its own. But rec

Finding God in an Orange

So I'm eating this orange. This juicy, delicious, liquid ball of orange juice. And I can't help but ask: Why? Why should this fantastic piece of fruit taste so good? Why doesn't it taste completely ordinary and bland? Why doesn't it taste boring and gritty, like a mouthful of the dirt from which it sprang? You could answer that this orange has developed its appealing taste because that taste helps it to get eaten by animals, have its seeds spread far and wide and grow lots of other orange trees. Okay, fine. I'm glad you got that out of your system. But how about this: That orange is one more proof that God made a creation that is delightful. And even though money still doesn't grow on trees, guess what? This stuff does. A creation that is beautiful, and not just a creation that is useful. Take sunsets too. When was the last time you sat down and watched the sun set? Maybe you could care less. Maybe you're too busy. Maybe you have a hard tim