By Tom Wiles | For The Times-Post
You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous — how well I know it. You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. — Psalm 139
My fishing partner for the day was reeling in another trout when after getting it into the boat he said, “What is that?!”
Wiggling in the bottom of the boat was a horrible looking mini snake-like creature with an alien toothed funnel-like suction mouth with which it had attached to the fish.
It was a lamprey.
Creepy to look at and harmful to those fish who get too close.
Unlike people, the lamprey can’t philosophize over its existence or the existence of others. If it could, what would it conclude about itself? What it would conclude about others? Where would it even turn to make those determinations?
David was pondering those very same questions in a song he wrote.
The focus of his thinking wasn’t lampreys; it was himself. Who am I? Where did I come from? Am I of any value or significance? Does my life carry the weight of meaning or is it simply “dust in the wind?”
Remarkably, as he directed his searching God-ward, he was given critical revelations.
Intentional. Known. Significant. Valuable. Wanted. Treasured. Specific.
These revelations of truth left him stunned and filled with joy.
The creator of all things had him on his mind.
Where are you directing your ponderings these days?
We’re all going somewhere for answers to these questions.
There’s a body of truth we are turning to, to give us what we conclude is true truth.
What is it? Who is it?
David went to the God of the Bible. He did not turn to himself, nor to the world around him. He learned the validation and significance of his existence did not come from anything he did or didn’t do, nor did it come from the assessment of other people.
It came from God.
Later, through his death for our sins and his resurrection, Jesus affirmed the truth of our value as well as the value of others. Are you living in the joy of that truth?
A turned heart
In Solomon’s old age, they turned his heart to worship other gods instead of being completely faithful to the Lord his God, as his father, David, had been. — I Kings 11
As my friend tells the story, he was playing golf with his brother and having one of the best rounds of his life.
They were on the last hole.
He took a deep breath as he stepped up to the ball and hit his drive straight … into the woods.
The next shot rolled weakly into the rough short of the fairway.
The next shot sliced into the fairway next to them.
It was a disaster.
About this time, his brother came over and turned him around to look back at the tee.
“See that?”, he asked. “That’s where the wheels fell off,” he said with a grin.
In today’s story, we see the wheels fall off of Solomon’s life. He didn’t finish strong at all.
A life and reign that began with so much promise and so much passion was derailed on the final leg of the journey.
Someone needed to turn him around and have him look at the wedding days of all his wives who were idol worshipers.
“See that? That’s where the wheels fell off.”
It’s such a sad read as this man who was once so humble before God was now stuck and defiant in his sin.
He, unlike his father, David, refused to repent.
We’re all walking through the journey of our lives. We can do so with or without Jesus calling the shots.
Every day God graciously extends to us is filled with promise and potential.
When lived in the light of his word and the power of the Holy Spirit, both its promise and potential are realized.
If not, it can be the start of the loosening of a few lug nuts.
If we don’t attend to the spiritual drift in our hearts, the inevitable crash and burn will show up on our doorstep with only ourselves to blame.
Unnecessary fights
One day Amaziah sent messengers to with this challenge to Israel’s king Jehoash, the son of Jehoahaz, and grandson of Jehu: “Come and meet me in battle!” —II Kings 14:1-22
Sadly, on more than one occasion — OK, fine, on more occasions than I can count, I’ve found myself in this awkward position of being in a “conversation” with my sweetheart and I cannot for the life of me remember what we’re even arguing about.
It’s truly embarrassing to be honest.
At other times, with her and other people as well, I do remember what the conflict is about and I feel equally embarrassed.
Thankfully, there have been times where God has intervened and kept me from experiencing the full weight of my stupidity, but there have been other times, “Yikes!”
Amaziah got himself into one of those “Yikes!” moments.
No one told him to pick a fight with Jehoash. There was no divine revelation instructing him to make this challenge.
Simply put, it was a bad fight.
Apparently, he was more than a little bit full of himself after having experienced a recent victory. He smelled like pride and Jehoash told him so.
Amaziah’s burgeoning ego wasn’t about to back down at that point. He led his troops into a battle that was totally unnecessary.
As it always does, pride leads to destruction. Bad fights produce bad fruit.
Every day of our lives, we will be baited into entering a bad fight. Fights over trivial matters are bad fights. Fights rooted in our pride are bad fights.
Paul, the apostle who wrote many of the letters in the new testament, said that he fought the good fight.
He also told us, “We are not fighting against flesh and blood enemies but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places.”
Are we in the middle of some bad fights today?
Are we about to enter into one?
With God’s help, let’s course correct before we experience yet another, “Yikes!”
