Monday Morning Music Ministry

3-15-21

I have a friend who once – in fact frequently – talked about his wife. “Unburdened himself,” to use an old and somewhat curious phrase. Complaining? Actually, no. We all need someone we trust on whose shoulder we can cry, or at least provide a pair of ears now and then.

Counselors charge a lot of money; sometimes a good friend is all we need.

Anyway, his story was about a marriage where his wife chain-smoked; and then gave it up. Then she took up drinking to embarrassing excess and disappearances and blackouts. And then she quit, cold turkey. I am forgetting the order of these problems, but in between there were various drugs; and then no drugs. She also cheated on my friend on and off – more often “on,” that is, serial affairs. He knew that his three children were not his. If you wonder about bulimia and anorexia, you’re right: those too.

The first time I heard this long litany of his endless heartache and her virtually suicidal pastimes, I asked why he didn’t leave her; get a divorce.

“Because I love her,” he said.

I could end this essay there, because there is a spiritual message, or at least a picture, or a parable, or example, somewhere in there. Maybe like the story about the boy digging through a pile of manure in the belief that “there must be a pony in there somewhere!”

Maybe. Surely there are elements of unconditional love and forgiveness in his story. My friend was not a Christian, yet he reflected some of the ways our Heavenly Father treats us.

… or (we hope and pray) that He treats us.

We all have sinned and fall short of the Glory of God. We know that because the Bible tells us so. But do we believe it because we genuinely know it? How often do we change the tense and to reflect that “we all sin and fall short of the Glory of God”? — that is, we still sin. But if we have accepted Christ, the “falling short” of God’s Glory cannot be measured any more.

After all, “while we were yet sinners,” Christ took away the punishment that our sins deserve.

“Because I love them,” Jesus would say.

I want to dwell a moment on how much we are all like my friend’s wife. Yes, all of us, in all ways. She was addicted – to this, and that, and the other. Serious, deadly, ugly, dangerous, smelly, stupid, harmful. In truth, it was not nicotine or alcohol or sex or cocaine. She was addicted to being addicted.

And so are we all. We know some of our habits are bad, yet we remain in them. We apologize to enablers… yet hope they will continue to enable. Are serial cheaters looking for the perfect match, or are they in love with being in love, as if they really know what that means?

Our addictions – our continuous problems and failings; our weaknesses; our broken promises to others and to God – can be summed up in one word: sin.

We all have heard stories of people breaking from the grip of specific addictions. Haven’t we? I pray you have heard such testimonies from people. The percentage of deliverance from various addictions is astronomically higher in faith-based programs than from secular therapies. No surprise: if addictions are a reflection of a spiritual problem, they can only really be healed by spiritual means.

I want to leave you with one more thought, as, possibly, your mind is racing through the challenges you have, or a friend or family members has, or an experience you survived. We know Jesus taught us to pray, “Lead us not into temptation,” words that we realize are almost a confession of our weakness.

So we do pray for things like losing some desires we have; or that we be  gifted with a stronger will; and reminded to live responsibly. In other words, how often do we think the best place, with God’s help, is to be in a spiritual place, a morally responsible position, where we can say, “OK, God! Thank you! I’ll take it from here!”

That is not spiritual maturity. It is spiritual self-delusion.

Our Heavenly Father does not want us to be independent. Everything in God’s Word, all the lessons of saints and martyrs, the many works of Christ, point to the truth that He desires that we be dependent.

Spiritual maturity is when we confess our inability to save ourselves. Christianity can be defined as achieving victory through surrender. No other construct works that way. We cannot dance and jump for joy and run to embrace the Lord except while on our knees. Neat trick, but it’s God’s plan. He is not as much impressed by our deeds as by our obedience.

Jesus performed miracles, and God still performs miracles. We know that the earliest recorded miracle of Jesus was turning water into wine at the wedding feast. The songwriter T. Graham Brown wrote a song during the “lowest of lows” of his alcoholism. It would be a miracle, drunks know, to be freed from the desire to take that one more drink – miracle enough. But he cried out uniquely to save his life: Could God just turn the wine back to water?

A miracle is a miracle! And that perspective actually admits the dependence – at the end of a spiritual rope (have you ever been there?) – instead of seeking a miracle, maybe as a crutch.

Despite our strengths or weaknesses, deliverance is the real miracle, however God takes us there. But let us pray that we can be enabled by the Holy Spirit to invite one more addiction – to be addicted to God’s Word and God’s Will.

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Music Vid: “Turn the Wine Back Into Water”

Every few weeks, some guy hacks the music-video link. WordPress is not helping us. Either hit “refresh” a couple times, or cut and paste this URL — the song is worth watching! (Also for some readers with hand-held devices) Copy and paste link: ) https://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=nKTdbqcjogg

Click: Turn the Wine Back Into Water

8-15-11

By Cheryl Hults Meakins

Recently it was reported that an online pedophile pornography community was shut down by the federal government, which also confiscated 123 terabytes of video, roughly equivalent to 16,000 DVDs of atrocities against children. The cancer of pornography has grown for decades and this giant seems much more powerful than Goliath ever was.

1 Samuel 17:4 “A champion named Goliath, who was from Gath, came out of the Philistine camp. He was over nine feet tall.”

I have a hard time watching the news every day. There are so many choices we have made in America that grieve my heart, even overwhelm me and paralyze me with fear.

It seems while I was growing up, so was sin on the increase in our culture. I stopped at 5’5” but our sins have grown like a cancer and loom before us like Goliath, mocking us, until we tend to live in fear. Will our children be swiped from our streets? Will a picture snapped on a passing cell phone be plastered on the internet? Must I help my children lose their innocence when warning them of the real “stranger danger?” Is this living in freedom?

Hollywood used to condemn movies with bare bottoms and curse words with R ratings. Now those are rewarded with PG-13 ratings. I remember in the ‘80s being disgusted at the mainline magazines that were boys’ rites of passage to manhood. Even worse is the rise of human trafficking in our own nation that is swiftly becoming more lucrative than drug sales for organized crime.

The giants that seemed so big in the ‘80s are dwarfs compared to the monsters confronting us today. The battles we once had to fight we now see were just the opening skirmishes in wars much bigger, and more deadly.

I look in the face of the giants that believers must fight… and I struggle to keep standing. I am overwhelmed with thoughts, even of children who survive sexual assaults, who grow up with pain their souls have recorded and their minds can barely contain.

I confess: often I become paralyzed; by the size of this giant but even more at the depth of healing needed for those who were forced to become victims.

You see, as long as I look at the face of the giant, I will fear, I will give up fighting, I will lay aside my weapons so my hands can cover my ears and dampen the noise of the helpless souls being ravaged by sin. I grieve that the sin we tolerated in the ‘60s, enjoyed in the ‘70s, humored in the ‘80s, and applauded in the ‘90s, has taken up residence in our midst; and now we know its full dangers.

The Church in America needs to know that there are giants in our land! And facing these giants builds a conflict in our focus. We need to attend to our personal godliness and obedience, but we must also tend to those who cannot fight for themselves.

Lift up your eyes, Church! Look to the hills! Where does our help and hope come from? He is our hope and our help (Psalm 121). His arms outreach the growth of any cancer in our nation. His blood will heal any wound and cover any sin.

Louie Giglio found himself afraid to go to sleep. Night after night he suffered as a cloud of panic or anxiety moved in to his mind. He spent months undergoing medical testing to diagnose his struggle but the turning point towards healing began with a decision he made in the face of his attacking giant. One night, as he was awakened again by this cloud he decided to praise the Lord.

Then he remembered Psalm 63:4 NIV – “I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands.” And in verse 8 “My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.”

Out of this desperate meditation came these words:

“Be still, there is a healer
His love is deeper than the sea
His mercy, it is unfailing
His arms a fortress for the weak”

Louie later shared these words with Chris Tomlin and a song of healing was born out of desperate obedience. Meditate on “I lift my hands.” And after you have found your peace, let your faith arise, pick up your swords and find a battleground to fight.

I have found mine!

Today’s Guest Writer:
Cheryl Meakins is an author and speaker who is passionate about women stepping into their callings as healers and warriors. More of her thoughts can be found at: www.MeakinsSpeak.wordpress.com.

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Click: I Lift My Hands