When I am afraid, I will trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can mortal man do to me? (Psalm 56:3-4, NIV)
Psalm 56 expresses why David is regarded as an uncomplaining, meek dove, driven from his native home to wander in exile. He appears to be disturbed by both domestic and foreign foes. David appeals confidently to God, recites his complaints, and closes with joyful and assured anticipations of God’s continued help. [Robert Jamieson, A. R. Fausset, and David Brown, Commentary Critical and Explanatory on the Whole Bible (Oak Harbor, WA: Logos Research Systems, Inc., 1997), Ps 56:1–13.]
This short portion of the psalm consists of only thirty-one words but offers important insights on dealing with fear and unpleasant circumstances.
First, admit your fears. David states, “When I am afraid.” He does not say, “I’m not afraid, but if I were, this is how I would deal with it.” He says, “When I am afraid.” Can you admit your fear? Are you afraid for other people to know you are afraid? That could be a problem. Will you admit your fears?
Second, when you are afraid, trust God. Stay in His word and trust His word. Trust His promises. Trust His promise that you can trust Him. Read the stories of God’s faithful people. Examine the lives of people who trusted God. David. Moses. Abraham. Joshua and Caleb. Peter. Paul.
Third, do not be afraid. We have already commented on how David admits his fear, and sometimes we are afraid. When we are, we muster all our strength and courage and act courageously. We call these people heroes. Even heroes, when they are honest, will admit they were afraid. No one can hurt me.
Could you write a verse of a Psalm like David? Maybe not as poetic, but here’s my attempt:
Father, there are times when I am scared. At those times, I try to trust. I do trust you in my heart, but my actions sometimes betray my lack of trust.
When I get scared, I try to read my Bible more to remind me of Your faithfulness to those who trust You. That helps. Your words and Your stories remind me that I am not alone. Others have traveled this road before me. You provided them with strength and confidence. I believe You will do the same for me.
I will try not to be afraid. I will remind myself that You will protect me and that there is nothing another human can do to me that will separate me from You. I will remember what You said in Romans 8:
If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written:“For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
This year’s Mangum Family Reunion was different. I’m not sure exactly what it was, but something was different. Maybe it was the absence of some who could not attend. Or perhaps it was the lingering reminder that life is fragile and can change quickly.
Even though something was different, some things were the same.
The gratitude for our family heritage was the same. Floyd and Agnes Mangum lived simple lives and left a legacy of faith, love of family, and a desire to improve the world.
The joy of seeing one another was the same.If we are fortunate, most of us see each other once a year. Our time is precious, so we try to make the most of it.
The sharing of memories and stories was the same. We retold stories we told the last time we were together, and we’ll retell them again the next time. I hope. Some stories are humorous, some are incredibly sad, but all remind us that we are family.
The sadness of saying goodbye is always the same. Time is too short. The conversations would go on for days if we had days. Remembering those no longer with us brings tears of sorrow and appreciation.
We remind each other that God gave us the blessing of our family, which is the same. By His design, we are here and who we are, and we will make every effort possible to gather again next year.
Today, we celebrate Junie’s 6th birthday. It was just under two years ago when we first learned of her cancer. For much of the following year, she experienced all the things that go along with cancer treatments, including loss of hair, loss of appetite, loss of weight, and regular episodes of nausea.
Each checkup and MRI brings anxiety, stress, fear, intense prayer, and cautious hope that she will be healthy and have clear scans. Last week, her latest scans were all clear.
Her 6th birthday party took place yesterday at a recreational Gymnastics and Tumbling facility. I watched Junie run, jump, flip, tumble, walk on a balance beam, eat pizza and cake, and open her presents with friends and family.
On the eve of her 6th birthday, my wife showed me a picture of Juniper Blue wrapped in my arms for the first time. My heart overflows with an overwhelming sense of gratitude that we could celebrate her 6th birthday.
Thank You, Father, for this beautiful and healthy six-year-old.
Class Reunion, a Long Drive, Family, the Eclipse, Work,
a Concert, and the Masters
What do all these things have in common? Memories
Class Reunion.As I made the almost seven-hour journey from home to Hope, Arkansas, my mind drifted back fifty-four years to when I was a senior in high school with only a few weeks before graduation. In 1970, I had many questions about the future, what finishing high school meant, saying goodbye to friends and family, and leaving home for college. As I drove, memories flooded my mind. Fifty-four years later, I still have many questions about the future, what finishing life means, saying goodbye to friends and family, and leaving this world when the time comes.
A long drive. During the last two hours of the trip to Hope, I asked Siri to play music from 1969. I heard Touch Me by the Doors. I remember Jimmy Alford sitting in the old Piggly Wiggly parking lot one night with that song playing at full volume. I played it again at full volume. I listened to The Uniques sing All These Things. And I was that In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida was 16 minutes long. I’m grateful that music can transport us to the place and time where we first heard the song or where we heard it for the thousandth time.
Family. I’m grateful that I could spend time with my brother and some of his family on my way to and back from the class reunion. We shared good food, relaxing time, and memories of our life.
The Eclipse. I put on my safety glasses and joined the millions of others who saw the dramatic images and experienced the world turning dark at 1:30 p.m. I remembered a similar experience on a deserted golf course in Nashville for the last eclipse. The transition from darkness to light reminded me to be thankful for sight and light. And the light of the Lord. (By the way, do you know what God does when the sun looks like a big toenail? Eclipse it.)
Work. On multiple occasions last week, I prayed for families and stood nearby as they said goodbye to their loved ones. And I listened to their stories as they shared memories.
A Concert. For an hour and forty minutes, Lauren Daigle hopped and bounced all over the stage as she sang her songs of faith, Hope, joy, and the love of the Father. Some of her songs bring back more recent memories. And being there with Kim created a new memory for us.
The Masters. I watched and remembered the opportunities I had to walk the course during practice rounds, meeting Jim Nantz near the 13th fairway, hearing the roar of the crowds, and the thrill of seeing some of the greatest players of all time. And I remembered sitting in our living room watching and dreading having to leave to go to Sunday night church before it ended. So grateful when DVRs made it possible to record it and watch it later.
I’m thankful for my memories, and I can still remember and enjoy them.And I thank my God every time I remember you.
NOTE: The Hope High School Class of 1970 (Hope, Arkansas) celebrated our 54th class reunion this weekend. This is the prayer I shared.
A Prayer for the Class of 1970
Father, thank You for allowing us to gather here today to share memories of our time from 54 years ago and catch up on things that have happened to and with us since the last time we gathered. Thank You to everyone who planned and organized this time together this afternoon.
Fifty-four years is a long time, Father, but in many ways, seeing these faces, hearing these voices, and sharing these memories reminds me of how fortunate we are to have been part of the Hope High School class of 1970. Our last year together was a challenging year in many ways. There were moments of grand celebrations that many will never experience and times filled with challenges and stress that most hope they never experience again.
And yet, as we look back, it is not difficult to see that our senior year at Hope High School helped prepare us for the life ahead—a life filled with great victories and devastating losses, exciting hopes and dreams, heartbreaking disappointments, and dreams that have never come true.
Our time at Hope High School gave us an understanding of true friendship, friendships that last a lifetime, and a sense of genuine love. It helped us learn and appreciate the value of human life—our time together taught us never to take people for granted, which hopefully has traveled and will travel with us through the rest of our lives.
Father, we thank you for those who are here, those who could not be here today, and those who are no longer with us but will always remain with us in our hearts because of their impact on our lives.
Thank You to the administrators, teachers, coaches, and families beyond our own who did their best to guide us and prepare us for the challenges we have faced and will continue to face as we strive to make the world a better place.
Father, thank you for letting us be part of the class of 1970. May we continue to have love in our relationships, joy in the memories, peace in the present moments, healing of our hurts, and rest for our souls.
Someone recently gave me Charles R. Swindoll’s book Laugh Again, which is based on Paul’s joyful letter to the Philippians. The complete title is Maybe It’s Time to Laugh Again. Experience Outrageous Joy. I’m gradually working my way through it again. I’m not sure how many times I’ve read it since it was published in 1992.
Philippians is one of four or five places in Scripture that I regularly return to when I need to refocus my mind, renew my attitude, and refresh my spirit. Receiving the book has been a good reminder of the line in the title: Maybe it’s time to…laugh again.
Maybe it is. Life gets serious. Then, some of us make it even more serious than it needs to be.
Paul said it over and over, “Rejoice. Rejoice. Again, I say, rejoice.” “Laugh again.” “Lighten up.”
I occasionally end a challenging day of depressing news, sad messages from friends or family, and tough work situations by watching an episode of my favorite sitcom. It helps me laugh a little before going to bed.
There are certain cartoons I check out and share via texts or social media.
A co-worker shared a good joke last week, and I shared it in three different settings before the end of the day.
Yes, it is time to laugh again. Look for reasons to laugh. Then, laugh and enjoy the laugh.
I recently had a medical procedure. When we entered the door, a lady behind the window asked me to sign and sit. A few minutes later, another lady behind the same window called my name, took my ID and medical information, placed a wristband on my left wrist, and asked me to sit.
After a brief wait, another lady called my name and escorted me to the prep area. There, a nurse waiting for me hooked me up to some of the equipment, gave me instructions on getting ready, closed the curtain, and told me to say, “I’m ready,” when I was ready. I did that and said, “I’m ready.”
Another nurse who had been entering my information into the computer continued and asked many questions about my health history and medications. The first nurse brought Kim back to wait with me. As we were chatting, the doctor explained the procedures and reassured us that everything would go well. A short time later, the anesthesiologist came to ask a few questions and explain what I would be experiencing.
A few minutes later, two other people came to take me to the surgery room. Kim and I kissed and said I love you and they rolled me to the operating room. There, I was greeted by a nurse who hooked me to the machines and gave me oxygen as the anesthesiologist quietly started the anesthesia meds. I drifted away in a peaceful sleep.
When I woke up, a nurse (along with Kim) greeted me and helped me get ready to leave. Once I was awake and dressed, a young man was there to roll me out the door.
I like it when people stay in their lanes.
No one fought to do a different job. The nurse in the operating room did not complain because she was not the doctor or the receptionist. The doctor did not fuss about his job or pout about working on Wednesday morning. The next day, I received an email asking about how I was doing and if I needed to speak with a nurse.
I like it when people stay in their lane.
Not only do I like it when medical team members stay in their lanes, but I really like it when the members of the Body of Christ do the same. And it seems God likes it, too.
”For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.“ (Romans 12:3-8 NIV)
Use the gifts God gave you. Serve in your area of giftedness. Find your lane and stay in it; you will enjoy it, and so will everyone else.
Sometimes, when the piles of clutter in my study become more than I can tolerate or a closet is stuffed to overflow, I am prone to stare at the clutter and ask, where do I start?
Many of my articles start with those words. Thoughts, images, memories, ideas, and dreams fill my head, and I don’t know where to start. Then, I start.
Some of my days start with those words. Making to-do lists and setting schedules of things that need to be done and things that I hope to do can become overwhelming. Then, I start.
Some of my journal entries start with those words. “Father, where do I start? Here’s what I’m grateful for. Here’s the people on my mind. Here’s my list of concerns. Here are my requests and my hopes for the day.” Then, I move through the day.
When life gets too much, and I’m unsure what to do, I ask, where do I start? The message I hear from the Lord is, start here; start now. Take one step.
The birthday plan was simple. Take the day off from work, sleep late, have coffee, have a quiet time, and catch up on email. Then, take a walk in the spring weather, catch up on writing projects, make a few phone calls, relax, maybe go to the driving range to hit some balls, and enjoy the day.
He indeed enjoyed that day if the Lord laughs when we make plans. Almost nothing turned out as planned. Interruptions, malfunctions, and uncooperative people replaced the peaceful plans with frustration, anxiety, and anger.
A late afternoon phone conversation, a pleasant dinner, many Happy Birthday notes, and a Celtic win improved the day’s mood.
The pity party lingered for another day or so. There was whining, pouting, regret, and even some oh-poor-me-ism—such a crybaby.
The pouting stopped when I watched a news story showing masses of starving people scrambling to reach the food dropped from the sky.
It all changed while glancing out the window at a busy intersection to see a family asking for help, as the children surrounded their dad in a wheelchair, laughing and playing as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
The whining stopped while watching a son lean over the bed of his deceased Dad, putting his hand on Dad’s head and telling him, “I love you” for the last time.
The oh-poor-me-ism completely faded while sitting with a tearful wife weeping because she didn’t know how to tell the love of her life goodbye.
Some days, even birthdays, don’t always go according to plan. This is no tragedy. Instead of whining and complaining, consider how blessed you are. Look for the joy in the day. Let God use you to bring joy to someone else.
they were afraid. No one can hurt me.