This is a short story that I wrote about the depravity of man and the Holiness of God. Every event is true, though not strictly autobiographical. This is a mixture of things that have happened in our city, to my old roommate and to me.

Blessed Be the Name of the Lord

Experience at University culminated to this one point: “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

I grew up in comfort that the Deity and I were on the same page. I did no wrong, and he was my homeboy. Just like my t-shirt. That was our relationship, I do my best, he forgives me, and one day I’ll float around on a cloud with my grandparents.

I am from a wealthy family; my father is a banker. I went to a wealthy high school on the wealthy side of town that promoted fake smiles and shallow concern. The churches there all said, “Follow Jesus and you’ll be blessed. You’ll have that BMW.” And nobody argued because everybody wanted that BMW.

We adopted my sister when she was born. She isn’t Anglo, but we love her anyway. Her mother had her at 16 and chose to kill her by giving her away instead of killing her while in the womb. My sister is two years younger than I am.

I went to University to study business. I was going to make it big like my dad; I wasn’t going to worry bout anything. I was going to drive my BMW in my wealthy neighborhood on my wealthy side of town when I graduated. I went to University because that is what every responsible member of society does.

University was three hours from home, two and a half if my foot enjoyed its fellowship with the accelerator. It was in a city not as nice as my own. My friends and I were too busy enjoying our “last party of the summer” parties so we didn’t secure housing in student neighborhoods. All that was left was the inner city.

I moved into a house with three other guys from my old school and church into a neighborhood where dumpsters marked every corner. Old sneakers hung from the power lines. Fast-food trash lined the street curb. Graffiti tagged the freight train in a rush of color as it passed by 20 yards away every hour.

I went to church the first two Sundays of the school year because I was used to it. On the third Sunday I was too tired from playing video games all night so I slept in and enjoyed glorious freedom. I was good enough, not just on Sundays, I didn’t have to go. I knew it all anyway, I had heard the same thing for the past 19 years.

The first month living in our house, my car was broken into. They stole my radio, scattered the contents of my glove box across the lawn, and stole my wheels. The police told me not to hold my breath on catching the guy.

Two weeks later our front door was tagged in the polygonnic style of spray-paint letters. I couldn’t read what it said, but who can?

A week after that I noticed the neighbor’s 9-year-old daughter getting forced into different cars with different older men by her mother a couple times a week. The first couple of times the little girl was screaming and crying, declaring her objections with tears and grabbing her mother, trying to hold on to anything to keep from going away. Each time her mother would slap her face and shove her in the car. From where I sat in my room, peering out through the blinds, I think I saw something trade hands. After a while, the car would come back and the old man of the day would dump the girl off at her house. After a few more trips, the girl would numbly accept her visitor without tears and screaming, just a blank stare and slow movements.

I told my roommates, and we were all horrified, but not disturbed enough to break the concrete bonds between our comfort and us. “What are we supposed to do about it?”

Eventually I noticed a flash of green passing between the older men and the mother at the transfer of the little girl. I didn’t like to watch the process, though it was hard to avoid. Later the mother would walk down to the street corner where the soiled sneakers hung from the power lines. She would flash the green for a flash of white in an exchange with the imposing gentlemen stationed there.

I was tired and wearied that first semester in school, disturbed with the environment I suddenly found myself. I listened to surrounding conversations to see if anybody experienced similar living conditions. Every conversation amongst the little clones of cliques spotted through out campus was of the same topic. Sex, alcohol, the beach, money, celebrities, that’s all I heard. Were they blind? Just down the street where I lived, reality was playing on a dirty blacktop with no shoes or food. I had the same conversations with the same people in high school.

One night, early in the morning, I was awakened by gunfire. I grabbed the baseball bat I kept by my bed and cowered in the closet. Later when the police knocked on my door, I found that the two men at the corner got in an argument and shot each other dead. The little girl’s mother was caught in the crossfire. I watched as medics loaded her bleeding body into the back of the ambulance as social workers carried a tearless 9-year-old to a waiting sedan. Although I hadn’t prayed in a while, I prayed that the girl’s new family wouldn’t sell her into prostitution for cocaine.

Two of my roommates moved out.

* * *

A month later, my mom called me. Small talk was shallow and I could tell she had something important to tell me.

“Your sister is pregnant.”

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“She’s pregnant,” my mother choked.

“She’s 17.”

My mother sobbed on the phone. Through snotty sniffles she told me my sister consensually slept with a 41-year-old coworker, who was married with four kids.

When did she do this? At what time? How did she give herself to a 41-year-old man?! It was absurd. I threw up.

My mother began to call my name, “Jo-.” Somehow, my phone was violently propelled across the room, flinging vomit over the dirty carpet. It left an impact crater in the dry-wall.

Inside, I snapped. My chest was heavy with the despair of it all. Falling to my knees, I grasped for each breath and clenched my hair in my hands. What the hell was wrong with the world? How does a young girl, loved by her family, give herself away like that? And what was so important to argue over that the only settlement was with 9mm bullets?

“Where are you GOD!?” I cried. “Why have you left? How can you let all this happen? I thought you loved us!” Tears, saliva and snot soaked the carpet as I dug my face into it’s fibers and pounded it with my fists. “Why have you LEFT!” I repeated.

And then a voice answered. Though not audible, I felt the words imprint upon my chest.

I have not left. I will never leave you nor forsake you.

You left.

Angry, I cried out, “I left?! I followed every commandment! I never drank nor slept around! I am not like those people outside, I went to church.”

You belittled my name with your sacrifices. As if I needed anything, as if the Creator and King could be served by human hands! I desire your heart, not your vain sacrifices.

Still proud, I stood and haughtily lifted my eyes. “What about that little girl and my sister? How could you have let this happen?”

Will the fault finder contend with the Almighty? Let him who reproves God answer it. Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell me, since you know. You left me and ran this life in vain. I have a plan for the little girl and for your sister. I cause all things to work together for good, as if any man’s actions or choice can thwart me. I foreknow, I predestine, I call, I justify, and I glorify. I give and I take away. There is no other God but Me.

Driven back to my knees in fear, I spoke words that were not mine. They welled up in my throat and poured out in worship without my control. “Behold, I am insignificant; what can I reply to you? I lay my hand on my mouth. Once I have spoken, and I will not answer; even twice, and I will add nothing more.”

Pick up your cross and follow. Go to the little girl and tell her about Me.

* * *

The social worker offered me a chair, which I timidly accepted by the old bunk bed. I was at the orphanage where they took the little girl, Shawna. She was curled into a ball, starring blankly at the wall. Her pillowcase was wet and her cartoon princess sheets were drawn tightly around her, held in clenched, scared hands.

“Hello, Shawna,” I said. She didn’t move, though she blinked. I couldn’t tell if she was listening, but I continued, hoping she would hear anyway. “My name is Job. I have a friend I want you to meet. Many men have hurt you, but He isn’t like any man. He is a King. His name is Jesus…”

Experience at University culminated to this point: “Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

©Matthew Watson, 2007

New York Times: African Crucible

I have recently read this article in the New York Times about the horrors some children have to go through in Angola (http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/15/world/africa/15witches.html?ex=1352782800&en=6a6aec7a1b5f2977&ei=5088&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss ).

I cant believe how broken we are. How far we have run from the Father. Surly, Surly He will see how the wickedness of man is great and our every intent and thought is on evil continuously. Surly He shall see how depraved we are, how enslaved we are, and set us free. Will we ever taste freedom?

What sort of generation buys clothes and pampers dogs but murders their children in the womb? What sort of generation worships celebrity and every hedonistic desire for sex, pleasure and vain-glory yet ignores that a father pumped battery acid into his son’s stomach for fear that the son was a witch?

What sort of wickedness dwells in us that we would see the Creator displayed by the heavens and all of creation yet we worship the corrupt instead of the incorruptible God? How long until the Lord King opens the seals and pours out judgment on this earth?

When, Oh Holy God will You return? You have set us free from our bondage by the death of Your Son! You have set us free and now we can bow and pay fealty to You instead of the darkness! Why do we commit such atrocities against Your Holiness?

Forgive us Lord King, forgive your people, and spare us a little longer so that we may wake up from our stupor of nightmares and apathy! Let us see Your face and call upon the name of the Father to love on the nations, lost in culture and sin! Embolden your people and send us out so that we may seek Your will and bring glory to Your name!

Father forgive us.

The enemy will use any weapon in his arsenal to try and weaken the believer so that the believer either becomes ineffective and lukewarm or becomes more a hindrance than a help. We allow this special attack of doubt and despair to occur by our sin. I have noticed in my own experiences that Satan will pierce the skin with well aimed sniper fire of doubt following a constant barrage of temptation and sin.  

“Where is your faith now? You must not love the Lord, He doesn’t love you. You’re only a disappointment. Did you just call out to Him? He cant hear you, He doesn’t listen to sinners…”

Indeed the attack is great and facilitated by the sabotage of our flesh. We sin because we are a broken people, freed from the curse of the law, but still under the effects of the curse of creation. Even Paul continued to feel the effects of enemy fire (Romans 7:14-20).

We will discuss the nature of doubt, situations in which it occurs, and the cure.

 Doubt 

Def: To be uncertain about; consider questionable or unlikely; hesitate to believe. To distrust. To fear; be apprehensive about. 

doubt. (n.d.). Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1). Retrieved July 17, 2007, from Dictionary.com website: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/doubt. 

My definition: Doubt: “The lack of faith and failure to believe in an all-powerful God from whom all blessings flow.”

Obviously doubt in the Lord is simply absurd. If we believe that the Word is inerrant, then we believe that He is all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-present and He loves us enough to send His only begotten son to die for us while we were yet sinners (John 3:16, Romans 5:8).

Lets look at the Bible…

Doubt is overcome by faith.

Genesis 15:1-6

Abram is presented with the promise of a blessing, descendants numbering more than the stars in the sky. Yet Abram is old and his wife barren, he has no heir. His belief in the Lord to fulfill His promises was “reckoned it to him as righteousness.”

The Lord is with us.

Judges 6:11-16

Gideon is the runt of the runt clan in Israel. He is on his knees grinding some wheat rations so that the Midianites, the people occupying and at war with Israel, couldn’t get it. The Lord approaches him and calls him “valiant warrior” (v. 12). Gideon proceeds to question the Lord, “O my lord, if the LORD is with us, why then has all this happened to us? And where are all His miracles which our fathers told us about…” (v. 13). The Lord tells him to go fight and that “I will be with you” (v. 16).

In both of these situations (let alone the Israelite nation as a whole whom literally saw the power of the Lord lead them out of Egypt, through the waters, while providing food and water in the desert), The Lord gives a command or a promise of blessings that seem, to the men that should receive, impossible given the circumstances. One man is tiny and insignificant in a nation occupied by an enemy army, the other an old sheep herder with no heir and a barren wife. Yet in both situations the Lord takes away the barriers and promises blessings.

God is in control of EVERYTHING.

Luke 8:22-25

Even the wind and the waves answer to Him. We freak out at the slightest bit of trouble and claim to be “perishing.” Let us at least do what the disciples did and go to the One whom has control, the Lord. With all thanksgiving and supplication, let us make our prayers known to God (Philippians 4:4-9).

Doubt causes us to lose stability in the Lord.

2 Peter 3:17, James 1:6-8

Without faith we are double-minded and hypocrites, “driven and tossed by the wind” as the waves of the sea. We lose our steadfastness. We give ground to Satan and give him a foothold in our souls.

How can we be sure? The cure: Fruits of Faith 

Philippians 2:12-13 says to work out our salvation with fear in trembling. We are saved by grace through faith, not of our own works, so that no man can boast (Eph 2:8-9). Therefore our works are to prove, or show our faith.

The tree is known by its fruit.

Matthew 12:33-35

Good produces good; evil, evil. How can an evil man speak what is good for our speech reveals what is in our hearts. Therefore is we are indwelled with the Holy Spirit as Christians, we produce fruit of the spirit (Galatians 5:22-23). Do our actions and our fruit reflect the Holy Spirit inside us, or are we quenching it? Remember that the Lord works in us “both to will and to work for His good pleasure.” (Philippians 2: 13) We can not do it, it must be from the Lord. As Paul says “For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh; for the willing is present in me, but the doing of the good is not.” (Romans 7:18).

Faith is the antidote of doubt.

Hebrews 11:1, Romans 5:3-5

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for and hope doesn’t disappoint because the love of God has been poured out onto our hearts through the Holy Spirit. Exult in trials for the Lord uses them to build faith. And faith in the Lord produces fruit, profit, proven character, spiritual maturity. This brings about hope. You doubt? Rejoice and have faith in the Lord for He is in control and directs our steps (Proverbs 16:9). “Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” (James 1:2-4).   

Strive for the fruit.

Galatians 5:22-23

Pray earnestly for these things, for you know as a sinner, saved by grace, that we are inadequate. Even praying seems empty and barren. This is a lie from the enemy. Our only cure is the Lord. Ask Him to fill you with His spirit.

So when the enemy comes to tell you lies, you can point to tangible proof that you are indeed a child of the Lord, freed from the curse of the law by the death of Jesus (Romans 6:6-11). Point to the Spirit, point to His promises, point to Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith.

This then is the chief end of man: to produce fruit to glorify God. Let us endure, fixing our eyes on Jesus Christ. Be encouraged that the Lord does not forsake His children. You were saved, you have been saved, you are being saved, and you will be saved.

Do you ever have those days when you find yourself in such an inexpressible mood of ambiguous blah? Like, you don’t really feel bad: no one died, your not wallowing in iniquity, no one screamed at you and you managed to drive around town without totalling your car. But you just don’t feel good either. You just feel messed up. Like something is broken and you cant figure it out, cant even really find the words to express it other than…well, messed up.

Do you suppose that is something yelling from the inside that this world is broken? Things aren’t right, and not just in you, but in the world? I’m not a pessimist, and I’m not a cynic after 9 a.m., but I refuse to believe that this world is so happy. I don’t think the American dream of golden retrievers and boats really work; it’s not reality. I see events like Sierra Leon, Darfur, and Iraq and see turmoil with tears, broken lives, but never much healing or joy.

Why? What makes our soul ache like this? What robs men of peace and lies to them telling them that the pursuit of happiness and success is the most important thing when there are people dieing in mass genocide from 12 year old killers and rapists? Mothers kill their children, molestations, gruesome and macabre murder, abortion. What the hell is wrong with us?

Would I be so presumptuous to claim it as sin? Would I really be overstepping my bounds to say it is the depraved state of mankind, laced with evil, that rebuke and run from what is righteous? There is no other option, what else makes the world the way it is? Sin, and the sinners who commit them.

Tell me there aren’t days when your chest feels tight and you feel like crap and you cant figure it out, cant even talk about it because you cant understand it. And we walk about through our day “Hey John how are you?” “O, I’m doin just fine. How bout you Jack?” “Fine.”

BS we’re doin fine. We’re lost and don’t even know it; there is just some hunch in our chests that grows heavy every once and a while when we begin to think of morality and truth.

BS we’re doin fine. Because if we were we wouldn’t have a problem. Murder, rape, and every other evil thing one man can do to another wouldn’t occur. Peace would reign, joy would flow.

BS we’re doin fine. We’ve abandoned Jesus at the dinner table and have made love with the world in the next room. And it wasn’t a one night stand; we are still trying to make it work.

Rain, rain on my face
It hasn’t stopped raining for days
My world is a flood
Slowly I become one with the mud

But if I can’t swim after forty days
and my mind is crushed by the thrashing waves
Lift me up so high that I cannot fall
Lift me up
Lift me up – when I’m falling
Lift me up – I’m weak and I’m dying
Lift me up – I need you to hold me
Lift me up – Keep me from drowning again

Downpour on my soul
Splashing in the ocean, I’m losing control
Dark sky all around
I can’t feel my feet touching the ground

Calm the storms that drench my eyes
Dry the streams still flowing
Cast down all the waves of sin
And guilt that overthrow me

(Jars of Clay, Flood)

To be honest, I never really understood this song. Something about rain and drowning and it probably had something to do with Noah. But it had a good rhythm.

But alas, the Lord sees fit to open our eyes and hearts when we are ready, and not before, and so after a week of sin and constant spiritual attack; I am becoming accountable that the words I say indeed prove that I am a fool, and that they hurt and tear down instead of build up; that I have become selfish, hunting for laughter to build my pride while sacrificing my brothers and sisters; discovering a title for the gospel that I have known and love happens to begin with “Calvin” and ends with “ism”; I feel so exhausted. Everywhere I see proof of my complete depravity and that, even though I wish not to, I still am a monster of iniquity.

And the problem of transgressing in a community that actually cares for the spiritual health of its family is that you cannot hide it away. No, almost instantly you must become accountable and take responsibility. And so a collection of brothers come up, praise the Lord for them!, to offer encouragement, love, and counsel to bring back to the Church the transgressor, that the Lord’s gift of repentance can be felt in His gift of Grace. The problem, or perhaps blessing, depending on which side of repentance you stand, of asking forgiveness, is that it is so danged humbling. And there is no escape.

A weeks worth of mistakes is alot to be accountable for, and at least to me, feels like an overwhelming flood of despair. And yet, Praise Jesus, the King of Kings has conquered my heart, and because He loves me, He sanctifies me. “For those whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son, so that He would be the firstborn among many brethren; and these whom He predestined, He also called; and these whom He called, He also justified; and these whom He justified, He also glorified” (Romans 8:29-30 NASB).

I can not imagine how a crime-stained worker of iniquity and the Just Creator of All Things can ever be forged together except for on the anvil of Jesus Christ, in which hope does not disappoint. And all imaginings of life without grace irresistible tend to become visions of Hell.

Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;

Praise Him, all creatures here below;

Praise Him above, ye Heavenly Host;

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Indeed, Amen.

Derek Webb has been gifted in writing songs that make you want to wretch all of your insides for being so wicked. It isnt simply accusatory, it is beautifully poignant, true, and ecumenical to everyone, includeing himself. And they aren’t just protest songs that invoke thought, they are “Oh My God, what have I done, something is wrong, who can fix this?” sort of songs. I have never heard the gospel presented in such an unapologetic way. It is refreshing.

These lines are from his song, Wedding Dress (I dont know if I’m suppossed to ask for permission before I just post this, but at least I credited him).

“i am a whore i do confess
but i put you on just like a wedding dress
and i run down the aisle
i’m a prodigal with no way home
but i put you on just like a ring of gold
and i run down the aisle to you

so could you love this bastard child
though i don’t trust you to provide
with one hand in a pot of gold
and with the other in your side
i am so easily satisfied
by the call of lovers less wild

that i would take a little cash
over your very flesh and blood”

And yet in Hosea, after we His people prositute ourselves to other gods and idols, to the seeking after fleshy lusts, popular esteem, abundance, and power, and deservedly incur the wrath of True Justice, He shows His love and grace upon us.

“Come, and let us return to the LORD; For He has torn, but He will heal us; He has stricken, but He will bind us up. After two days He will revive us; On the third day He will raise us up, That we may live in His sight. Let us know, Let us pursue the knowledge of the LORD. His going forth is established as the morning; He will come to us like the rain, Like the latter and former rain to the earth. O Ephraim, what shall I do to you? O Judah, what shall I do to you? For your faithfulness is like a morning cloud, And like the early dew it goes away. Therefore I have hewn them by the prophets, I have slain them by the words of My mouth; And your judgments are like light that goes forth. For I desire mercy and not sacrifice, And the knowledge of God more than burnt offerings. ” –Hosea 6:1-6 (NKJV)

Simply cutting off the hand that causes us to sin, or gouging out the eye that causes us to lust, is not purely the answer for these are sacrificial. Consistant tithing and donations, revoking cable and internet, or attending AA meetings aren’t enough. We can never be good enough, even if compared to other fallen heads we seem better than they. “But we are all like an unclean thing, And all our righteousnesses are like filthy rags; We all fade as a leaf, And our iniquities, like the wind, Have taken us away” (Isaiah 64:6 NKJV). Simply saying it isn’t enough.

For what then, is our hope?

I am battle weary and fatigued. Constant attack from my own, traitourous body (Romans 7: 14-20), and long for the peace of God to be with me. To no longer feel the effects of a broken world. But I will. And you will. And there isn’t anyway out for our choosing. So I ask again, for what then is our hope?

The Risen One, Jesus Christ.

“Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the LORD your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you.” (Deuteronomy 31:6 NKJV).

And finally brethren, and those whom tary from the arms of Christ, I offer the words of the Spirit through Paul: “And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” (Romans 5:3-5 NKJV).

Can we take off the doubt and the shame the whore us away from the Lord, laying aside every encumberance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and endure the race set before us? Not without Jesus. “On Christ the solid Rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand, all other ground is sinking sand.”