The Phil Files

[Jesus said] “This, then, is how you should pray:

“‘Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us today our daily bread.

And forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.

And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from the evil one.

For or yours is the kingdom and the power
and the glory forever. Amen.’”

Yesterday, as we gathered together in a couple of worship assemblies, we celebrated the work God is doing in us and through us (Acts 14:26-28). It was fast paced, filled with praise, and with a lot of joy at what God was doing — reports, videos, slide show, time in the Word, and a Skype conference from an open Tabernacle for the homeless. As we finished, I was exhausted and also exhilarated.

But, toward the end of our Lord’s Supper time, I went to be with friends who carry a deep wound of grief. Even as I spoke, I could see pain etched on their faces as they had to wrestle with the subject at a whole different level than most of us as we wrote down things we were thankful about that God was doing in us. As I reached out to touch my friends, I noticed that Donna drew close to another precious person in the family. Little did I know how deep the grief that surged in all their hearts.

After lunch, Donna and I talked through the morning and she shared the awful, painful, heartbreaking news that she was visiting with this dear sister about. By the time we got to bedtime, I still couldn’t talk about the deep grief of these precious people — different sides of the same family suffering with unspeakable sorrow.

I confess that I don’t understand the “why” of such pain that rips apart the hearts of such good people. It’s not fair and it sure doesn’t seem right. I know that I am not supposed to question the love, faithfulness, and ways of God. But at the same time, I don’t understand why some walk away with a miracle and some go to bed with the deep loss grief inflicts and also have to wrestle with the questions of prayers that feel unanswered and ignored.

I am thankful for the Psalms that give me a voice to share such feelings of confusion, anger, and loss with God. I am also thankful for life-stories like Ruth and Naomi, that remind me that behind the deepest of losses — home, country, husband, and two sons — comes the unexpected gifts of hope, life, future, and ultimately the Messiah. God, in His faithfulness, used a foreign woman full of loyalty, grace, and beauty to bring deliverance, both for Naomi and for us.

But still, why do my friends who I love — people dedicated to the Lord and His Kingdom and His righteousness — have to carry such pain? All I can see today in the Lord’s prayer is that one phrase, “deliver us from the evil one.” DELIVER US! Yes, that’s all I can think about for my friends tonight.

I believe He will deliver us, but I am not always sure what that means in this present moment. One of my old, long-time favorite faith-anthems is Rich Mullins’ “My Deliverer is Coming.” I’ve embedded it below for you to hear. If you know the story of Rich’s untimely death, I believe it means even more, and it also challenges us to wrestle with the deep well of grief that often goes with walking the way of mortal flesh.

As you listen, please cry with me: O God, please deliver us!

In the last book of the Bible, we are told twice that God will wipe away every tear from our eyes and the old order of things that has brought death, sorrow, and pain will be no more (Revelation 7:17; 21:4). There are times that I long for that day because death, sorrow, and pain hang so heavily in the air we breathe. They are very much the human condition.In Luke 7, our reading for today, Jesus is very much about eliminating death, sorrow, and pain. The healing of the Centurion’s servant, the raising from death of a widow’s only son, his marks of identity as the Messiah — the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, those with leprosy are healed, those who are deaf can hear again, the dead are raised, and good news is preached to the poor — and the forgiveness given to a sinful woman of the city. In anticipation of the great and final day when every tear will be dried — the day when the Lord will put his finger on our tear stained cheeks and usher in the ultimate healing and joy. At the heart of this healing of our hearts is the great truth in the verse that caught my heart this morning:

//Inspiration: Luke 7:13
When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, “Don’t cry.”

//Incarnation: What this verse means to my life todayTo think the Creator of heaven would look at us, experience the pain in our hearts, and then have His heart go out to us is staggering. “O yes, He cares, I know He cares, His heart is touched with my grief!” That’s what the old hymn declares and this verse reminds us. So in my darkest of nights, in my most heartbroken of moments, in those soul-brittle times of betrayal, abandonment, and despair, the Lord sees my hurt and His heart goes out to me. It is important that I declare this aloud to myself in those moments. I need to remind myself of this truth in these moments. And I also need to declare to myself, and to others, that Jesus knows the tracks of my tears and will one day touch them, heal their hurts, and welcome me home to a place where death, sorrow, and pain have disappeared in the light of his grace!

//Invitation: My prayer for todayO God of wonder, Father of mercy, and Lord of grace, be near me. Help my heart feel your presence. Give me the courage to believe that your heart goes out to me when I hurt. Empower me with faith to believe that you are there and care when I feel alone. And, dear Father, help me declare my faith that I know there will be a day when joy reigns and sorrow, pain, and death are banished by the grace of your presence. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.