by James Webb
The thing about reading the Psalms is that occasionally, at just the right time, there will be a sliver of poetry that speaks directly to your heart. Here are some crumbs from the table that have fed my soul in the past, and continue to do so, along with commentary on what they mean to me.
Although I don’t make New Year’s resolutions, it’s turned out that I have started 2020 with a few new disciplines. I thought I’d tell you about one of them.
I’m sitting in someone’s living room, with a small group of people. We’re in silence, though it’s not an awkward silence. We’re waiting and thinking and praying. We’re about to take communion together. Read more
For someone who likes words, I seem to spend a lot of my time not able to find the right ones.
Many of my days are spent searching for perfect words, and then trying to arrange them in the perfect order. There are plenty of moments where I can’t even seem to find adequate words, let alone perfect ones. Read more
I’ve been reading, which gets me thinking, and thinking gets me into trouble. I’ve been thinking about how quick we are, when criticised or challenged, to leap to our own defence. I suspect we’re motivated by wounded pride rather than a sense of injustice – after all, are we quite as quick to jump to the defence of another?
When Jesus stood before his accusers he made no attempt to justify or acquit himself. He offered only silence, sprinkled with brief answers to questions. No “Let me explain…”; no “Let me tell you my side of the story…”; no “It was their fault!”; no outrage, shock or fury. Just silence. But is that really realistic? Isn’t this just an extreme example tied to the necessity of the crucifixion? Surely, if our name is dragged through the mud, we should make every effort to put people right? Shouldn’t we? Surely?
Two quotes come to mind at this point. The Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu, who said “Those who justify themselves rarely convince.” I think he makes a good point. Or then there’s something I heard once from either Neil T. Anderson or Larry Crabb (I can’t quite recall) that goes something like this: “If you are in the wrong you have no defence, and if you are in the right you need no defence.”
But does it work in so-called real life?
I know someone who once was publicly accused. He sat in a group and listened to someone make all kinds of claims against him and his character. After his accuser had finished he stood up and said, “Well, you all know me, and you can decide for yourselves if those things are true or not,” before sitting down. And that was that. There was no attempt to defend himself with words, because he had years and years of integrity and actions to speak on his behalf. No doubt there were those who would find that an unsatisfactory defence – perhaps almost an admission of guilt – but I can’t help but feel that there’s no response to criticism more powerful than a godly life.
Something to think about perhaps, but try not to get into too much trouble.
“Why don’t you do something, God?”
“Like what?”
“Well, I don’t know. Something. Anything!”
“What’s the matter?”
“There’s someone who really needs to know that you love them, God. Someone who really needs your help.”
“What should I do, then?”
“Well, something that makes them feel loved.”
“Like what?”
“Well-”
“Should I give them a hug, perhaps? Write them a note telling them that I’m thinking of them? Give them a gift?”
“I suppose-”
“Sometimes all it takes is a smile, you know. Someone smiling at you can make a lot of difference. Should I smile at them, James?”
“I-”
“Because I do. You know that, right? You know that. How about a kind word? That can work wonders. A timely dose of kindness to a wounded soul can turn a broken man into a saint, can’t it? Or have you forgotten that whole pear thing?”
“No, but-”
“Every day I whisper love to people’s hearts. Sometimes I shout. But people aren’t always listening. There are always so many other things they’d rather listen to. And I made a decision a long time ago, a decision to delegate. Delegation is an act of trust, which is an act of love, you see.”
“I know-”
“And I could, I could reach out my arms and take the whole world into a hug, and draw it near to my beating heart and drown out everything else with my love, I could, and one day I will, but for now I have no arms and I have no smile. I gave those things away, James. I gave those things away a long time ago. Do you know who I gave them to, James? Do you?”
“I think-”
“That’s right. I gave them to you, and your brothers and sisters. I didn’t just give you peace and forgiveness and hope, I gave you responsibility. I gave you my arms and my feet and my smile and I said, ‘Here you go. You’re in charge of these now. Use them wisely.’ I delegated.”
“All right, I-”
“I am at work, James. I’m always speaking, always reminding a stubborn world that I’m here. But I’ve got an idea, James, about this person who needs to know my love. Do you want to hear my idea?”
“…”
“Do you, James?”
“Yes, God.”
“Well then, here it is. Are you ready?”
“Yes, God.”
“Why don’t you do something?”
Sometimes I don’t have any words, which can be a bit awkward because words are supposed to be my thing. But sometimes, after the past couple of weeks, with politics and faith, terrorism and flames, there are no words. All I have is silence. Read more
