Psalm 119:71:

It is good for me that I was afflicted,
   that I might learn your statutes.

The Psalmist expresses the very attitude toward our condition that we all ought to have.

I think most would agree, with a sober assessment, that the times in our lives that are truly free of difficulty, pain and failure are the minority. Instead, those times make up most of what we experience and stand to make the others that much sweeter. If we didn’t know a better way, most would live with regrets and disappointments.

But, like the Psalmist says, “It is good for me that I was afflicted.” It’s in those times that we do our greatest growing—learning to trust God’s word and decisions in our lives.

Psalm 115:4-8:

Their idols are silver and gold,
    the work of human hands.
They have mouths, but do not speak;
   eyes, but do not see.
They have ears, but do not hear;
   noses, but do not smell.
They have hands, but do not feel;
   feet, but do not walk;
   and they do not make a sound in their throat.
Those who make them become like them;
   so do all who trust in them.

There’s a really basic principal here that most of us don’t realize—and the word is completely blind to: you become like what you worship. And we all worship something.

If we worship money, we will become greedy. If we worship fear (in other words, if we surrender ourselves to whatever is necessary to keep fear at bay), then we will live our lives always in fear. But, if we worship the One True God, the God of Life, we will be alive.

When we worship something with no life, we will have no life. When we worship the source of life, we have just that. I think that’s pretty cool.

Psalm 80:19:

Restore us, O LORD God of hosts!
   Let your face shine, that we may be saved!

I love this.

While perhaps the context doesn’t translate directly, it reminds us that God’s grace, God’s grace in revealing himself to us in Jesus Christ on the cross, is where we find our salvation.

Seeing God, as he is, is the only way we see our need for him and so receive his total blessing.

That is beautiful.

The past couple weeks I’ve really been dwelling on the idea of remembering Jesus—remembering the Gospel. As I read today, this passage in the beginning of Psalm 77 stuck out to me.

You hold my eyelids open;
   I am so troubled that I cannot speak.
I consider the days of old,
   the years long ago.
I said, "Let me remember my song in the night;
   let me meditate in my heart."
   Then my spirit made a diligent search:
”Will the Lord spurn forever,
   and never again be favorable?
Has his steadfast love forever ceased?
   Are his promises at an end for all time?
Has God forgotten to be gracious?
    Has he in anger shut up his compassion?"
                         Selah

Then I said, "I will appeal to this,
   to the years of the right hand of the Most High."

I will remember the deeds of the LORD;
   yes, I will remember your wonders of old.

Asaph describes his turmoil and mental anguish over his circumstances. Then shifts immediately. He says that he will remember God’s works and ‘wonders’ of old.

Every Christian can attest to God’s power to provide strength and comfort. Yet, we all quickly forget that he has done so for us in the past, when our present seems to fall apart. Like Asaph, we should make a careful point to remember what God has done for us in the past, in his Gospel in general and our lives in specific, to give us confidence for the future.

Psalm 69:19:

You know my reproach,
   and my shame and my dishonor;
   my foes are all known to you.

David is speaking to God about his enemies. In essence, he’s saying that God knows what they do to him and the pain he undergoes at their hands. He is affirming back to God (and to us) that God’s eyes are on us and he knows what he’s doing.

As I read it tonight though I couldn’t help but read the words a little differently.

The Gospel is thorough, but the comforts of it when not dwelled upon very, very regularly can seem to get lost under the anxiety of life. But I read this passage in a personal manner. God knows not only my circumstances and challenges, but also knows me and all of my deepest, most difficult issues. And yet still, the Gospel is applied to me.

What worldly anxiety can stand up against that?

With good reason David reckons God to be his comfort. Looking to the higher promises of God to carry him through trying times. Psalm 61:1-3:

Hear my cry, O God,
    listen to my prayer;
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.

God’s promises to, and covenants, with his people are rocks which are higher than we are. Greater than our own best promises to God. Like David, when we are in trouble from the world and from ourselves we can seek those and find confidence. This appears to be the classic interpretation of this passage. And it is an encouragement, to say the least.

But for me, when I read this passage, I couldn’t help be see Christ as the “Rock that is higher than I”.

When I am weak and lonely, struggling to live a life worthy of the Gospel (as fantastic a feat as that is), I can pray to God that he would lead me to a Rock that sits far above me. Christ is an immovable rock whose footing is far beyond anyone’s natural reach. But by God’s power and Christ’s sacrifice, it is a place we will (and in one sense have already) ascend.

It is sanctification. A conforming to Christ’s image which cannot happen except if we cry out to God. Incidentally, something we rarely do before our hearts grow “faint”.

What kind of a perplexing, yet encouraging promise is this of God’s in Psalm 37:23-24:

The steps of a man are established by the LORD,
   when he delights in his way;
though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong,
   for the LORD upholds his hand.

It’s hard to miss this one.

Though we make choices and our choices fall on our heads, whether they are good or bad, there is a tension between God’s planning and man’s choosing.

Our steps are set out by the Lord. And whether it is passive, or aggressive in nature, they are God’s will. Among those steps will be failures, but they will not be to our detriment, but our progress, our sanctification, ultimately our joy and satisfaction.

This is a promise that I find it necessary to remember—often. For I seem to be in a perpetual state of forgetting.