“But I am like a green olive tree in the house of God. I trust in the steadfast love of God forever and ever.”
Psalm 52:8
In Psalm 52 we read of David’s run-in with Doeg, a very bad man, (a mass murderer actually). But David, hearing about the slaughter of 85 innocent priests doesn’t respond in hatred, rather he sits down and writes this song of contemplation which we know as Psalm 52.
It isn’t something written out of wrath and vengeance rather the word that begins his writing is “maskil” which implies– enlightenment, or something reflective, thoughtful, discerning. He sat down and considered Doeg’s awful evil, and by doing this was able to understand own heart as well.
The first is Doeg’s vicious atrocity, and the condemnation that it incurs, (v.v. 1-7). The second was David’s own commitment to following God, and understanding his own place in a very evil world, (v.v. 8-9).
Rather than castigate himself for being discovered in Nob–a circumstance which directly led to the mass murder of these priests (and their families). We find that David does not blame himself. He could have, but he didn’t. Rather he thoughtfully, and carefully, detailed his own “observations” of the whole sordid matter.
David could easily have destroyed himself with guilt and grief. He didn’t.
He chose not to play the losing game of ‘what if.’ He instead would be like a green olive tree rooted himself in the holy temple and into the protective presence of God. David knew he would destroy himself if he didn’t place himself there. It was a deliberate decision.
It would keep himself sane.
It seems to me that trees work heavily into David’s own theology and that this is how he sees his relationship with God. He’s planted and therefore able to survive terrible trials. He shows us how to survive and thrive.
His roots would need to go very deep indeed.
David’s thoughtful imagery is himself as an olive tree planted in God’s presence.
I believe knowing this is the antidote to the poison of guilt. Perhaps we should follow his example?
“They are like trees planted along a riverbank, with roots that reach deep into the water. Such trees are not bothered by the heat or worried by long months of drought. Their leaves stay green, and they never stop producing fruit.”
Some time ago I came across a story that connected. It seems a visiting speaker came and stood in front of a congregation. He shared a painful incident from his childhood. He wanted to bring healing to others. After he spoke, an elder came and spoke to him–
“You have learned how to become a proper steward of your pain.”
The visiting speaker was profoundly touched by this. Finally, something came together in his heart and soul. Yes, he did learn how to deal scripturally with those ugly things from his past. He was becoming a proper steward of his pain.
The word for steward in the original Greek is oikonomos. It literally means “a keeper of a home.” It describes a manager, a superintendent to whom the head of the house or proprietor has entrusted the management of his affairs, the diligent care of receipts and expenditures.
The issue seems to be of management, how can God use these awful things for building His Kingdom?
No question about it, we live in a world of darkness. Each of us has been touched by hard things. Scars are part of our lives. When we come to Christ they come with us. All of these grim things are a real piece of us, we have been hurt (or maybe we’ve wounded others?)
Are you a good steward of who you are? Whether you’ve experienced trauma–something physical, sexual, or perhaps a mental illness. It could be any scar you carry from your past, and no one is immune from them it seems. You’ll find freedom if you can use these things for Him and his Kingdom.
We must see and understand that Jesus has taken everything and redeems it all for His glory.
He understands us fully–our past, present, and future. He ‘knows’ us–the real and hidden us. The challenge I suppose is to take these sad events to the throne. He alone can heal and then use that which has devastated us. What was intended to destroy is now meant to build.
Satan has afflicted you in his dark attempt to destroy you.
Jesus intervenes to save. As we grow to accept this, the Holy Spirit comes as our comforter and guide. He starts to teach us true redemption, and the incredible healing that he brings with him. It really is his work, not ours. We finally understand. It’s then we become broken healers that God can use.
His light has truly overcome our dark.
We’re being taught (sometimes very slowly) to carry all of these things and plead the blood of Jesus over our past. He covers us completely. He has redeemed us. Luke 1:68 explains much clearer than I can:
“Blessed is the Lord, the God of Israel because he has visited and provided redemption for his people.”
Becoming a steward of our pain is his doing. We’re able to touch others with these things that would cripple and destroy others. He has made us “managers” of these things, and we are taught to teach others, declaring that God has completely saved us. He works miracles!
“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has passed away, and see, the new has come!”
2 Corinthians 5:17
We’ll sovereignly meet those who need to hear our story. We’re being transformed into authentic witnesses. Yes, at times these awful things still hurt, and I suppose that’s to be expected. But we’re learning to manage them. We’ve become real-life stewards of our pain.
“That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.”
Dancers are some of the most talented people I know. Their gracefulness is truly amazing. But a dancer’s training is far from easy. By choosing to become dancers they have made a decision to absorb the pain of the dance.
Their toes and feet are blistered and bruised–they take constant abuse. Some live with chronic tendonitis, and their feet bleed sometimes, pain is their constant companion, but you know what? They still choose to dance. It’s what they were born to do.
Two things to consider.
They choose to dance. Dancers must operate with an iron will and an elegant grace. I suppose that is why they can dance the way they do. They have painfully blended the two. We see the elegance, but don’t see the pain.
The scars and bruises often become “badges of honor.” They would rather dance in pain, than not dance at all.
I once heard someone describe depression as having a mental bruise. I think I understand this.
As one prone to depression, I know what it is like to bury myself in my bed for weeks at a time. My own mental bruise was simply more than I could take. There was a sensation of sinking into blackness, a sense of total and complete despair. I felt lost and completely alone.
I prayed. I groaned, and I prayed again.
My sense of being totally lost in sad, dark thoughts was beyond comprehension. Dear reader, this was something quite real, and you must become aware of these things. Over 25% of people are diagnosed with depression sometime in their life.
Maybe some of your friends are suffering this way? It’s often hidden by a fake smile, but it’s there and you don’t even know it.
We would never say that diabetics are that way because of the enemy. The dark one will surely exploit it, but I think you give him far too much credit if you suggest he was able to initiate it. I don’t think Satan has the spiritual “voltage.” He often uses depression to “set his hooks” in a person.
I refuse to hide my mental bruises from those who share my pain. I will make the choice to dance. I’m bruised, but I will try to ignore the pain. God meets me with an extra helping of His grace and mercy. I want to exult in God, walk in His love, and “leaping with joy like calves let out to pasture” (Malachi 4:2.)
“A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out, till he has brought justice through to victory.”
Isaiah 42:3
The great pastor/evangelist Charles Spurgeon once spoke about his own personal battle with depression:
“I find myself frequently depressed – perhaps more so than any other person here. And I find no better cure for that depression than to trust in the Lord with all my heart, and seek to realize afresh the power of the peace-speaking blood of Jesus, and His infinite love in dying upon the cross to put away all my transgressions.”
Sometimes we live in darkness. We suffer and it’s hard. We mentally accept God’s grace and His love for us, but in our heart we remain untouched. Pain saturates everything it seems. We seem to go through the motions, but deep down we’re convinced that we’ll never find the light that so many claim to have.
Since I have a disability I realize I learn things others won’t grasp. I’m learning to embrace the waves that push me to the rock–the Rock of ages. I suppose when I meet Him I’ll understand why it had to be so.
My hope is real. Heaven is home. My pain will be healed.
There is a language of heaven spoken, and those who have suffered speak a dialect of that. Just as someone from Georgia communicates English, their dialect is obvious. The same for those who live in pain. We speak the same, but differently.
Pain sometimes saturates our lives.
We live with something that is persistent, and our hope is a day when it’s all over. Psalm 88 becomes our Psalm. Nothing here is sugar-coated. It is raw and unabridged. It puts our pain under a microscope. That Psalm is entirely yours.
“For my soul is full of troubles, and my life draws near to Sheol. I am counted among those who go down to the pit; I am a man who has no strength,”
Psalm 88:3-4
“I am certain that I never did grow in grace one-half so much anywhere as I have upon the bed of pain.”
Once I was punched in the face while preaching. At the time I was an evangelist with SOS Ministries in 1987. I was leading a group to Haight/Ashbury St. in San Francisco. I remember it was really busy, and it was a good team, and they were excited to take their church to the streets.
Haight/Ashbury was the place the “summer of love” kicked off, it peaked in 1968. It has a certain sense of notoriety, and even in 1983 it still had a dubious reputation as a center of the counter-culture. “A cult a day is born in San Francisco,” a pastor friend once shared with me.
Normally the neighborhood where I took a team would direct me on how to preach. Tonight especially I focused on God’s love for sinful people.
That message seemed appropriate for this place, especially on this street. God loves these people very much.
A young man came forward. He told me that he was a backslidden Christian, and his father was an Assembly of God pastor. He had run away from home. Suddenly he began to weep. The entire team seemed to lean forward and I know they were praying earnestly for him. It seemed to me that he was teetering on the brink.
His punch however came unexpectedly.
His fist hit me square in the nose. My eyes began to water. Oddly enough he took a step back and began to really cry out. My team wasn’t quite sure how to respond, but I hoped they prayed even harder. I sort of gasped and tried to shake it off. Someone must have called the police.
The Holy Spirit was very much present, both convicting and comforting each of us.
One or two minutes went by and suddenly he stopped sobbing and he became really angry. He took a step and then tried to kick me in the stomach, but I dropped the mic and caught his foot. I was ready for him this time.
About 20 minutes went by before SFPD showed up and asked if I wanted to press charges. I thought for a bit, but deep down I knew that wasn’t the will of my Father. Maybe I should of, I don’t know. But I thought about my own sin and couldn’t judge no one.
The Father was reaching him while teaching me!
God loves His prodigal children very much, He understands the guilt and shame (and frustration) they feel. The Father however is always watching and waiting. He works through life’s circumstances to lead them home. Each belongs to Him. He continues far past what we think is possible. He will never give up.
“We know what real love is because Jesus gave up his life for us. So we also ought to give up our lives for our brothers and sisters.”
1 John 3:16
I suddenly saw a “wounded” brother, very confused and quite angry. Not with me, the team, or the music–but with God who created him, and died for him.
At that moment in time, I just happened to be God’s love for this prodigal.
“One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” 40 But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? 41 And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.”
42 “And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” 43 And he said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”
The pain was incredible, but I know that deep down I deserved to die. But not like this. Never like this. I was almost out of my mind with fear. What they were doing to me was terrifying.
You must understand that I was a common thief. I had stolen a loaf of bread when I was eight years old and that’s how it all got started for me. It more or else got bigger and easier. I knew how to steal and I was quite good at it. I was Jacob, the master thief!
When I was finally caught, they sentenced me to die. I supposed it was inevitable. I fault no one but myself as I knew what I was getting into. As I dragged my beam up to Golgotha, it was really strange but I suddenly remembered a verse from the scripture and it really did unsettle me.
It’s a terrible thing to die this way. There were three of us, nailed to the wood and lifted up between heaven and earth. Jesus was nailed to the middle cross, not that it really mattered; all three of us were going to die today.
Many hope for an easy death, maybe in their sleep–but that’s not going to happen to us.
The third man could only mock, he was afraid, and I suppose he just echoed those Pharisees who didn’t really understand. But I knew better. I knew who this other man was, I had heard all the stories. Deep down I knew that this man on the center cross was the Messiah.
A crowd had gathered to watch us die. The Romans in their wonderful ingenuity had made a sign that they nailed above Jesus’ head, and it declared to everyone that Jesus was “the king of the Jews.” Even as he was dying, they found a way to malign him and irritate the crowd.
The other man being crucified continued to mock Jesus, and it infuriated me.
Why I defended him I don’t know for sure.
But I understood. Jesus was murdered out of the envy and jealousy of the Pharisees. He didn’t deserve to die like this, but He was hated, and who can confront these religious men without becoming a victim. Jesus had repeatedly crossed the line, so now they were now putting him to death. It seemed evil was really winning today.
I saw the soldiers throwing dice for Jesus’ clothes. He was now being mocked by them as well, even as He was dying on a brutal cross.
But all of a sudden it all made perfect sense.
He really was the Messiah, and these bastards were killing him. Crucifixion was starting to work on me now. I began to choke on my words, and it was getting hard to breathe.
“Jesus… please remember me. When your kingdom comes, please let me be a part of it.”
And as beaten as He was, He managed to turn and look directly at me. They had whipped and brutalized Him, and yet He was still aware. His words were whispered now, but I understood. “I promise that today you will be with me in paradise.”
I was starting to spasm again.
But the horror of death had left me. Some time had passed, and I could hear his breathing stop. But for the first time, I had peace. They used a spear on Jesus, but he was already dead.
The soldiers now came to the two of us, and they were carrying an ax to break our legs. It all had to do with the coming festival, and the Pharisees wanted us dead. When they swung that ax I knew a pain that I could never describe. My own death came quickly after that.
I was suddenly standing in paradise, whole and complete, and loved.
Someone was standing before me. He was shining, and I knew he was powerful; stronger, and He was more glorious than anyone I had ever met. It was crazy but somehow I knew that it was the Lord Jesus. He had come to meet me. It’s funny, but I realized that somehow I really did belong. Me–a dirty rotten thief.
Jesus had promised me, pronouncing me righteous, me of all people. I suddenly had a joy that I could never explain. I really was a part of the Kingdom that was beyond anything I had ever known. I believed him and asked if somehow I could be part of his eternal rule.
I simply asked and He gave me everything.
“I am going to heaven just like the thief on the cross who said in that final last moment: “Lord remember me.”
Billy Graham
alaskabibleteacher.com
Cover Art: “Christ on the Cross between Two Thieves,” by Peter Paul Rubens
There can be no resurrection power without crucifixion weakness. There can be no power unless you die to self, taking up your personal cross. Many are frustrated by this. This teaching is not fully understood or really preached.
“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.”
Crosses hurt, for they are a way of dying to self, plain and simple. Every spirit-filled believer must die to his agenda. If you want a resurrected life, overcoming sin and death, you must carry your cross. Death comes first, and then is resurrection. There is freedom to all who obey.
Simply put, there’s no other way for you to be holy but a cross.
Whether you’re struggling with a physical ailment (think pain), or a mental illness (also pain), you still must carry a cross. Our issues can be formidable, I understand, but you’re not exempt from the terms of discipleship. All must follow Jesus.
Jesus fully understands Calvary. He recognizes agony. His pain was real. I believe that He knows this intimately. I also think Jesus understands our weakness and confusion. His grace meets every believer. No matter if they struggle and stumble. The Spirit teaches us. All who really come are redeemed.
I think He understands our reluctance and hesitation.
I want to follow Him. I’m pretty sure that you do too (you’re reading this which tells me something). So what cross are you called to carry? They seem to be custom made–designed uniquely for you. But it’s also true that others have been tempted, just like you.
Your cross must be deliberately chosen.
It’s often a path of brokenness and humility. It may involve shame and pain–a reproach to those who can’t understand. But if you take it up you can expect the world to belittle you. If they abused Jesus, you can count on them belittling you.
Avoiding your cross means you have been conformed to what the world thinks, and that’s an awful place to be. You really can diminish your cross without doing harm to your spiritual walk. Honestly, there is not another way.
His resurrection power is given to those who have already expired. Struggles with sin and doubt often evaporate when He abides in you. He’s the power given to overcome. He’s the only one who can give it to you.
“To take up the cross of Christ is no great action done once for all; it consists in the continual practice of small duties which are distasteful to us.”
You may struggle with this and I hear you. This is not an easy word. I don’t know if I’ve given this topic justice, but I pray that I’ve touched the heart of Jesus. I stress that’s a hard word, but I think it’s true.
But you must tell yourself of the gift of joy and peace that is found by carrying your cross.
“The cross of Christ is the sweetest burden that I ever bore; it is such a burden as wings are to a bird, or sails to a ship, to carry me forward to my harbor.”
I have to admit, I always wondered what this verse in Psalm 23 meant. I thought “He anoints my head with oil” was a nice poetic phrase for God blessing David. But as I delved deeper into the context and explored different interpretations, a beautiful and profound meaning unfolded before my eyes.
First of all the act of anointing with oil holds significant cultural and spiritual symbolism in biblical times. It was a practice to anoint guests as a sign of honor and welcome, especially in lavish feasts and celebrations.
Anointing with oil also had medicinal purposes, as it could soothe and heal various ailments. (Now that’s interesting, I thought.)
In the context of Psalm 23, the phrase “He anoints my head with oil” takes on a deeper metaphorical meaning. It signifies God’s abundant blessings, His provision, and His care for His people. Just as a host anoints the head of a guest as an act of honor and hospitality, God lovingly anoints us with blessings and favor.
Moreover, the act of anointing with oil has spiritual connotations. In ancient religious rituals, anointing with oil was a sign of consecration, setting apart someone or something for a holy purpose.
This verse also portrays a practical picture of medicinal shepherding.
In biblical times, shepherds used oil to treat and protect the sheep’s wounds and keep insects away from their heads. By anointing our heads with oil, God brings healing and comfort to our brokenness, soothing our hurts and protecting us from the turmoil of life.
Sheep often can do harmful things to themselves as they try to find relief from flies and ticks.
Their ears and eyes can be targets for tormenting insects as well.
Sheep have been known to bash their heads against rock walls to dislodge flies from their ears, noses, and eyes. A good shepherd watches closely over his flock. He watches over them carefully.
A good shepherd knows that poured out oil forms a barrier of protection against these things that would try to destroy the sheep.
Have you ever asked God to anoint your head with oil?
Psalm 23 as a whole beautifully paints a picture of God as our loving and caring Shepherd, guiding us, providing for us, and protecting us. The imagery of anointing with oil further illuminates the depth of His love and the extent of His care. It reminds us that we are chosen and cherished by God, and that His blessings are abundant and unending.
But ask yourself these questions. Do you have times of mental torment? Do the worrisome thoughts invade your mind over and over? Do you beat your head against a wall trying to stop them?
The Holy Spirit can come with His endless supply of oil!
“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.”
Jacob was a scoundrel, a cheat and a swindler. It seems that his life was built on defrauding others. I see no integrity, no goodness in his early life. He plotted and tricked everyone he could in order to advance his own status.
Yes, Jacob was tricked also, which I suppose was a “good” thing. It seems that when men like Jacob get deceived themselves we tend to gloat a bit. After all, they are finally getting what they deserve.
But no bad man is outside of God’s grace and mercy.
The story of Jacob wrestling with God is definitely worthwhile. We see him colliding with the Lord on the shore of the river Jabbok. Body on body they each try to gain the advantage. The text tells us that the match goes long into the night. (For background, see Genesis 32:24-32.)
Jacob is a grifter. He has built his life around a selfish deception. But again, he is still on God’s radar, and the Father isn’t finished with him yet.
A night of wrestling with God is really something we all will do at least once in our life. We each have a “Jabbok” and each will go body to body with the Holy One. Some of us will learn how to surrender, others will not. But sometimes, our dealings with God are silent, and unobservable.
It fascinates me to see Jacob wounded. “When the man saw that he would not win the match, he touched Jacob’s hip and wrenched it out of its socket” (v. 25). Jacob will limp for the rest of his life. Every morning as he got out of bed, he would groan from the stiffness and be reminded of that fight by the river.
So dear one, how should we process all of this?
No man is too far gone for God’s dealings.
Each of us, whether we realize it or not, will have our encounter with God. (Our personal “Jabbok.”)
God loves us too much to let us remain in our sin and darkness.
And sometimes, from that encounter we’ll walk with a limp.
My own experience. I was not in a good place 8 years ago, I was wrestling with God, and having some issues, but the Holy Spirit had no intention of letting me go. I had a very bad fall. Needless to say I laid on the ground with my right arm pinned beneath me for some time. That injury is known as “compartment syndrome.” I went into surgery immediately.
My right forearm/hand is now paralyzed. about 80% of the muscle tissue and nerves had to be removed. The doctors considered taking my arm off, but I’m glad they didn’t.
Like Jacob, I now have a tangible reminder of my fight with the Lord. There are times when I hurt. I’ve had to relearn and adjust to using my left hand. It has not been easy. Jacob would limp for the rest of his life, I can relate having just one arm.
“God has no pleasure in afflicting us, but He will not keep back even the most painful chastisement if He can but thereby guide His beloved child to come home and abide in the beloved Son.”
“David asked, “Is there no one still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show God’s kindness?” Ziba answered the king, “There is still a son of Jonathan; he is crippled in both feet.”‘
2 Samuel 9:3, NIV
This crippled man was named Mephibosheth. He was injured by the actions of a nurse; she dropped him as she was trying to escape the palace (2 Sam. 4:4). It was not of Mephibosheth’s doing, but someone else made a mistake, and it totally and irrevocably changed his life.
He would always be disabled.
If you haul out your old musty commentaries, you’ll find that Mephibosheth’s name means, “shame.” Perhaps a casual ‘disdain’ would be how people treated him. But David was a different sort of king (as kings go), and he elevates Mephibosheth to the feasting table.
King David wants to include him!
Interesting. I believe that there are a great many people like Mephibosheth. They’ve been injured by someone else’s stumbling. It seems we pass these things on to each other. And the lameness we inflict may not be physical. It may be spiritual or emotional. Sometimes we injure others without knowing what we have really done to them.
Jesus made some powerful statements about people who injure others.
Some of the most vicious and evil woundings that are done are usually on a moral or spiritual level. People can heal physically over time, but the wounds of the spirit are incredibly devastating. When someone harms us on this level it can completely undo us, for a lifetime. (And perhaps, maybe forever).
We are capable of much evil. We affect others in ways we don’t understand. We need to seek God’s grace right now; we cannot allow ourselves the luxury of diminishing or minimizing what we have done. A vital point to consider: We cannot go on crippling others without injuring ourselves.
Wounded people wound. But healed people can often become healers themselves.
We can read of King David’s truly majestic treatment of Mephibosheth in 2 Samuel 9. He actively blessed him, and perhaps that is the proactive action we ought to take. We must make the effort– to bless others.
As a king, this was a very minor incident. Hardly worth recording in the lofty affairs of state. But as a man–to restore Mephibosheth, was definitely one of his greatest decisions. Kindness and gentleness should always be a key part of someone who is in authority, especially over others.
There’s another concept here– we discover something that is profoundly true about us in Paul’s letter to the Church in Ephesus. It’s here, in 1:5, that we see that God our Father, acts like David, and receives Mephibosheth; just like God receives us to Himself. We find that we’re adopted, loved, and held, and we get a prime place at the table!
We may use crutches, but we walk by faith. And that may be the greatest lesson in this portion of scripture–and the most profound experience we can have as believers.
“God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.”
