Tag: Coronavirus

Psalm 103: Praise The Lord

It is certainly difficult to go through this Psalm without recognising the call to praise. The beginning and the ending couch this Psalm in words to encourage praise.

Note how personal the writer King David is as he expresses himself.

“Praise the Lord, my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. Praise the Lord, my soul, and forget not all his benefits” in v1-2.

And in v20-22,

“Praise the Lord, you his angels, you mighty ones who do his bidding, who obey his word. Praise the Lord, all his heavenly hosts, you his servants who do his will. Praise the Lord, all his works everywhere in his dominion. Praise the Lord, my soul.”

This is something deeply personal, something coming deep from within here. It is like David is willing himself to praise.

There are times, aren’t there, when we have to will ourselves to do something. Whether it is chores around the house to trying to work through our emotions in a lockdown due to a global pandemic. Here David sounds like he is willing himself to praise. Like the marathon runner willing herself to get to the finish line so too David is willing himself to praise.

Often praise, encouragement and thanks don’t come easy. Often we can be so consumed with our own self and all the problems we have to deal with that we soon forget or fall out of habit of praise, of thankfulness, of gratitude. Here we get the sense of David, writing in reflection from years of experience, willing himself to praise God for who he is and what he has done.

For David realises all of what God has done. Not only for him personally, but also for the whole of humanity. He remembers God and all his deeds and dwells on the action of his compassionate God, which in turn draws him to praise.

As we close this three-part series on Psalm 103 I encourage you to remember, dwell, and praise God this week.

It has been a tough 12 months.

You may have taken the opportunity to sit with God and spend more time with him this year. But, in the conversations I’m having with people I suspect the majority have not. And so I wonder whether this might be a good time to spend some time with the Lord.

If you’re one who is in a habit of doing so, I encourage you to keep going.

But, if you’re one who hasn’t sat with God, opened his scriptures, read and thought of the things of God in a while then I encourage you to do so this week.

Take 30-60 minutes. Open a Psalm, maybe even this one. Write down a few things that strike you as you read it. Pray about what is on your heart. Express those fears and worries and anxieties to God. And dwell for a period of time, something we’re not used to, on your compassionate God who is slow to anger and abounding in love.

Because when you do, experience tells me that the Lord will meet you where you are at and will draw you toward praise just as David is here.

It will do your soul and your life much benefit.

This is the third of a three-part series on Psalm 103. The first post, ‘Remember The Lord’, can be found here. And the second, ‘Dwell on The Lord’, is here.

Christ In A Curfew

Our city has now been under a curfew for a week.

What an amazing sentence to write.

I’ve always figured that to be under curfew would mean I was living in a country under martial law or something similar; where there would be the threat of violence and war.

Even living in the Middle East for a couple of years, in a country that had numerous political assassinations, bus bombings, a short-lived war with its neighbour, and military checkpoints throughout the area I lived, there was never a curfew.

It’s a strange and sad sentence to write.

And it’s a sentence that already feels like it’s taking a toll.

Christ In A Curfew

I’m not sure how you’re feeling about this curfew and this Stage 4 business, but in conversation with people I know it seems we already feel the weight of it. There’s the emotional toll, coming to terms with the shock and awe of being in such a lockdown again and all the feels that come along with that. There’s the psychological toll, as people wrestle with their own mental health, anxieties and depressingly negative thoughts of what the next six weeks is to look like. And then there’s a relational toll, as the alone-ness continues the loneliness of isolation is felt more deeply. Let alone all the other stresses and pressures this lockdown now leads to–unemployment or lower job security, financial pressure, family pressure at home, and the overwhelming stress from remote learning for young families. It feels like a dangerous cocktail.

Is there a positive in this at all?

Let’s be honest, sometimes it seems hard to see through to one.

Nevertheless, positives or not, there are some truths worth holding on to. Because despite what is happening in our lives, despite the pressures we’re under, and despite the strain of the day, there is still a God who is with us, who cares for us, and who brings hope into our lives.

He Is With Us

Even though we’re all surprised by how 2020 has turned out God is not.

For thousands of years God has been across and involved in the world we live. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. He hasn’t changed. He remains steadfast, he remains faithful, he remains a God of love. He remains a God who looks upon his creation and seeks to be with them, to know them and he be known by them.

God has not disappeared. He hasn’t gone on holiday. He hasn’t run away. No, God is with us. He is with us in the confusion and the chaos, just as he is with us in our health and in our happiness.

In John 14:26-27 Jesus speaks with his disciples promising that God will always be with them through the Holy Spirit. He says,

“But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

How assuring to know that God is with us. As followers of Christ we can know that he is with us. That upon his death, resurrection, and ascension Christ didn’t leave this world to its own devices. Rather, Christ has given us his peace, a peace that surpasses all understanding, a peace through his Spirit and worth holding onto in this season.

He Cares For Us 

And just as Christ is with us, so too he cares for us.

As 1 Peter 5:7 reminds us, “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”

When we feel all is lost, when we’re under pressure, when we’re despondent, when we’re angry, when we’re in tears, when we’re annoyed, when we’re anxious, when we’re fearful, when we’re worried, and when we’re none of the above, Christ still cares for us.

However we might be feeling, and in whatever situation we may find ourselves during this curfew period, Christ cares.

He cares for the overwhelmed parents juggling remote schooling and their own work from home.

He cares for the single person stuck at home with little relational contact with friends or family.

He cares for the bored student trying to make their days somewhat productive but seeing no point.

He cares for the grandparent confined to their home without grandchildren running through their house as usual.

He cares for the worker who has just lost their job who now faces months of uncertainty.

He cares.

Christ cares.

Christ cares for you.

He Brings Hope To Us

This time of curfews and COVID brings with it a loss of hope, a loss of purpose, and a loss of identity. We understand hope is diminished because of all the feelings, the restrictions, and unwanted changes to life. But in Christ we find hope restored. Christ is our hope. He is our hope in this season and our hope in eternity to come.

This hope doesn’t come from some positive feeling, nor even a positive action or thought. This hope comes from Christ and the cross. Ironically, through death comes hope.

Through the death of Christ comes the hope of Christ.

For through the death of Christ comes the hope of knowing we are forgiven, we are accepted and loved as we are, and we are at peace with God.

As we recognise, and perhaps even more so in these strange days, we are not in control we may come to realise that there is little we can do to save ourselves. Whether it be an internal or external struggle we are familiar with the exhaustion that comes from those constant waves beating down upon us. And so as Christ goes to the cross for us he takes with him our exhaustion, our frustration, and our brokenness from life in the world.

As we put our faith in this Christ on the cross Paul reminds us in Romans 5:1-5:

“Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.”

Are there greater words than this!?

That through our faith in a crucified Christ comes the hope of Christ through the love of God. May we know this hope this week. For during this time of curfew we may be isolated and lonely. We may be angry and hurt. We may be disappointed and sad. Whatever we may feel will be what it is. Yet, what we can know and be sure of is that Christ is with us, that he cares for us, and that there is hope.

And perhaps that’s the sentence we really ought to be amazed by.

A Psalm For Our Sanity

Ooft, there’s no other way to say it, the restrictions now placed on us here in Melbourne are brutal.

Yesterday evening we entered a ‘State of Disaster’, which now means we have a curfew, limited time for exercise, and we’re unable to travel more than 5km from our home (except for special circumstances). This is now in place for six weeks, and is off the back of a second lockdown of which we had already been in for three weeks.

There’s not much to say.

It’s been tough, it’s going to continue to be tough.

There’s a range of feels–annoyance, sadness, denial, shock, depression, apathy, anger, and whatever else you’ve been going through.

It’s times like this I’m thankful for the Psalms.

5 Yes, my soul, find rest in God;
    my hope comes from him.
6 Truly he is my rock and my salvation;
    he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
7 My salvation and my honour depend on God;
    he is my mighty rock, my refuge.
8 Trust in him at all times, you people;
    pour out your hearts to him,
    for God is our refuge. (Psalm 62:5-8)

There are plenty of Psalms that may help those of us who are struggling right now. And it seems the lament-style are the most appropriate ones. Here in Psalm 62 I find comfort in the words like rest, hope, rock, fortress, refuge and trust. These are words that resonate with the God I know, and I hope they are words that resonate with the God you know too. With so much changing, often by the day, knowing God is firm and solid and provides care and refuge for us is important. He gives us something stable to rely on in these unreliable days.

These days are not easy. And while we may all be in this wild seas together, each household is in a different boat. As we navigate the range of emotions we feel and the situations we find ourselves in may we show the kindness and graciousness of God to each other and to ourselves.

The Quarantine Quiet Life

I doubt any of us who aspired to achieve a quieter and more peaceful life in 2020 thought this was the way to go about it. Sure, in my case, less children’s birthday parties, less meetings, and more time with family were all good things to aspire to. But at the sake of people contracting a virus, people losing jobs en masse, and not being able to visit anyone outside of the home wasn’t really what I was thinking. I suspect the same for you.

The Quarantine Quiet Life

BC, ‘Before COVID-19’, life was hectic. Everyone in their different ways and in their different stages of life were walking at a brisk pace that was hard to keep up with. The calendar was always full and the different people and events garnering my attention was constant. One of the first books I read this year was “The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry” by John Mark Comer. It’s an excellent book and well worth the read, but also a symbol of how I was approaching this year–one that required some work in order to become less hurried in life and more at peace with a slower pace.

I’ve often been struck by Paul’s encouragement to the church in Thessalonica to aspire to a quiet life. It’s a little verse tucked away at the back of the letter, there in the middle of the New Testament, encouraging something that seems beyond our comprehension. He writes,

9 Now concerning brotherly love you have no need for anyone to write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love one another, 10 for that indeed is what you are doing to all the brothers throughout Macedonia. But we urge you, brothers, to do this more and more, 11 and to aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we instructed you, 12 so that you may walk properly before outsiders and be dependent on no one. (1 Thessalonians 4:9-12, ESV)

In context we’re talking about loving others, loving the brothers and sisters of our churches and those around us. There is also a missional bent to this passage where we are to seek to walk in godliness in order to witness to outsiders. But there tucked away in v11 is this little phrase, ‘aspire to live quietly’.

These days of isolation aren’t all quiet. I know they are for some, painfully so. But for others, these days of isolation are even more full and tiring than they were before coronavirus hit. While we may not be in the same boat, we’re all sailing the same seas and being hit with different waves.

As this year has progressed we’ve been incorporating different things in our weeks that have helped to slow us down. While the meetings and events may have disappeared, in person at least, there is still plenty to keep our family of five occupied. One particular rhythm we’ve begun is to have what we call a ‘Saturday Sabbath’, which basically means we do things as a family that are life giving to us and avoid all digital devices. Phones are kept in drawers and not looked at until late in the evening (and to be honest, the addictive nature of these things become so much more evident on this day!). An all-in family activity usually happens in the morning. We talk, and read, and play, and pray, and celebrate life together. They’ve been refreshing, and something we don’t want to do away with come post-isolation.

But that’s just an example from our household, I wonder how you’ve pursued the quiet life in yours?

In this second round of isolation, here in Melbourne at least, I wonder what pursuing a quiet life might look like? My situation will no doubt be different to you, and by now the whole thing is becoming more and more frustrating. That’s the reality. Yet, as we continue to aspire to a quiet life, how might it be marked by the love of God and the love of others?

The Grieving of the (Non) Gathering of God’s People

We now enter the third Sunday where our church is unable to gather together.

And this week it has finally hit me.

I’m grieving. I’m sad.

Perhaps I’m a little angry, but mainly I’m sad.

The Grieving of the (Non) Gathering of God’s People

I’ve been involved in church life all my life. Being born into a pastors family means church is part of my life and lifestyle of my weekly rhythms–as it is for many Christians around the world. And it is in this time of uncertainty and alleviated stress where we seek the rhythms of familiarity. There is something about our nature that seeks rhythm and regular structures in our lives.

And so over the last few days I’ve been aware enough to notice that my emotions have changed as I’ve gone about my responsibilities this week. Knowing we are not gathering as the local expression of God’s people here at Rowville changes the nature of how I think about my weekend. While I may well be on the premises during our livestream, while I may know many from our community maybe watching even, I know it is different and there is something sad about this.

In our secularised, comfortable Western world grief and sadness are not seen as positive emotions. In modern Christianity we are more inclined to want to speak encouragement, we want to push people to see the joy, and take up the opportunity of the season. And of course, we know that God is in control in all of this, there is hope; the peace of our souls does not rest upon the prevailing winds of the world.

Instead, we worship a God, who through Christ Jesus, laid his solid foundation of hope and joy upon our hearts–knowing we are still held in him with enduring joy.

Yet, I’m still feeling sad. I’m still experiencing the grief of not being able to gather with my brothers and sisters in Christ.

For two years I lived in a small village in the mountains of Lebanon. I was apart from my home church back here in Melbourne, but I gathered each week with a local community of believers and ex-pats that I was working with.

Despite being away from my home church, what I knew and what I experienced was still a closeness with those I gathered with each week. Even though I didn’t know many of them very well, particularly in the initial months, I was encouraged and reminded of our unity as part of the family of God.

This time it feels incredibly different.

It isn’t simply being away from the usual sheep pen I reside in, this time it feels like we’re all out of our usual sheep pens and left out in the pasture. This isn’t to say God is not with us. Nor is it to say we aren’t all alone–modern technology accounts for something, but not everything.

The feeling of isolation, loneliness, and sadness comes from not being able to gather together with our church family. Rather than try to find some sort of faux-joy in amongst all the strangeness, perhaps it is appropriate to lament…?

After all, we enter Passion Week tomorrow, the week that symbolises the final week of Jesus’ life, culminating in his horrific death and glorious resurrection.

And perhaps this is something we can take away from this season? As we recognise the aloneness of this season this year it may help us enter more into the aloneness of Christ during this time. Though Jesus was surrounded by his disciples, and though he continued his ministry in this final week, we read of the unique isolation he felt as he headed toward the cross. Luke 22:42-44 helps reveal this to us:

“Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me—nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” Then an angel from heaven appeared to him, strengthening him. Being in anguish, he prayed more fervently, and his sweat became like drops of blood falling to the ground.

And so, while we may feel alone, sad, and grieved, unable to meet in the same physical location this week perhaps this provides us with an opportunity to see Jesus more clearly and walk his way more steadily?