afflictions

Jan

2020

When winter seems unending

Originally published on the Electric Gospel on April 7, 2018.

Always winter … but always Christmas and always Easter

by David Sellnow

Where I live, it seems like winter will never end. This week a record low temperature was set — in single digits. Waking up yesterday morning, the wind chill felt several degrees below zero. Tomorrow a snowstorm is predicted. And it’s April.There’s a line in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, by C.S. Lewis, that comes to mind: “It is winter in Narnia,” said Mr. Tumnus, “and has been for ever so long … always winter, but never Christmas.” Life in the real world can seem very much like that so much of the time. Another way of describing life’s long, cold, dreariness was expressed by Moses many centuries ago: “Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty, if our strength endures; yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow” (Psalm 90:10).

Yet that message of sadness and pain is not the only word we have from God about our lives in this world. In reality, while our lives may feel like an endless winter, it is always Christmas for us, and always Easter. The meaning of Christmas was that God came into this world to share our pain, to take all our troubles onto himself. It was prophesied (Isaiah 7:14), “The Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel” [which means, “God with us”]. Christ entered into our existence and “took up our pain and bore our suffering. … The punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:4,5). Christ faced all the worst that this world has to offer and died for us. But “it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him” (Acts 2:24). Every Easter, we celebrate his resurrection from the grave and the life eternal we have through him. And resurrection hope is not just something that prompts us to put on springtime clothing and go to church on Easter Sunday. God’s mercy “has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead” (1 Peter 1:3) — a hope that enables us to get up and face each day in the here and now, as well as having assurance of being with God in the hereafter.

It may indeed always be winter in the way our lives feel on this earth. But in Christ, it is always Christmas, for he is beside us as our Brother, born into humanity with us. And in Christ, it is always Easter, filled with hope and new life. Because he lives, we also will live (John 14:19).

Jan

2020

Forsaken … but not forsaken

Originally published on The Electric Gospel on April 27, 2018.

Forsaken … but not forsaken

by David Sellnow

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, and from the words of my groaning?” (Psalm 22:1).

David, who became king of Israel, wrote those words at some point in his life. We don’t know when David wrote Psalm 22, only that he sent it to the chief musician in Israel when he was king. We also know that there were plenty of times in David’s life when he might have said, “Trouble is near” and “there is no one to help” (Psalm 22:11).

Sometimes David’s troubles were through no fault of his own, such as when King Saul kept pursuing him, trying to kill him. David had dared to challenge an enemy no one else in Israel would challenge–Goliath of Gath, a gigantic warrior of the Philistines. Saul grew jealous of David and aimed to eliminate him. At one point, David wound up going into Philistine territory, to Gath itself, to get away from Saul. While there, the only way David could keep from being imprisoned or killed by the king of Gath was to feign insanity. David scribbled on the doors of the gate and let saliva drip down his beard. The king, Achish, said to his servants, “You see the man is insane. Why then have you brought him to me?” (1 Samuel 21:13,14).

Sometimes David’s troubles were the result of his own arrogance and sin, such as when he seduced the wife of one of his military men while that man was away at battle. David then saw to it that the man was killed, so that David could take Bathsheba (the wife) from him and make her his own. David’s soul was plagued and troubled until God’s prophet compelled him to confess his sin. (Cf. 2 Samuel 11-12.)

Other times David’s troubles were a combination of his own failures and the sins of others against him. His son Absalom mounted a conspiracy, trying to throw his father off the throne. David needed to wage a civil war against his own son. In the end, Absalom ended up dead and David struggled to bear such a tragedy. (Cf. 2 Samuel 15-19.)

In our lives too, there are times when we feel forsaken by God and alone in our despair and troubles. Sometimes it’s through no fault of our own; it’s just things that happen to us or acts by others done against us. Sometimes our aloneness and pain are caused by our own sins and shame, torturing our minds and hearts. Other times the anguish we face is a combination of our own failures and things done by others that hurt us further. We wonder where God is in all this. Our souls cry out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, and from the words of my groaning? My God, I cry in the daytime, but you don’t answer” (Psalm 22:1,2). We keep crying out day and night, but find no rest.

We recognize, though, that the anguished cries of David’s psalm belongs to someone else even more than the thoughts belonged to David or than they belong to us. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Those words were uttered by Jesus, the Christ, as he hung on the cross. Jesus took on himself all our sins, all our troubles, all our agony, all our shame, and experienced the abandonment of God his own Father. He did so to atone for all our woes and guilt and hurt. Some elements of Psalm 22 point beyond anything David likely experienced, looking prophetically ahead to the sort of death Jesus died when he took our place under all the burdens of sin. “They have pierced my hands and feet,” the psalmist said (v.16), anticipating the crucifixion that the Messiah would suffer.

No matter what our sufferings in life and no matter why they occur–by our own fault or the fault of other sinners or simply the result of living in a sin-stained world–we can know one thing for sure. Jesus suffered as much and more than anything we are suffering. And Jesus suffered as he did for us, to give us hope in the face of suffering. Our hope, ultimately, is in Jesus, whether or not the circumstances of our daily lives get any easier. Though the Lord may bring us down “into the dust of death” (Psalm 22:15), he remains always our God from the time of our birth onward. “All those who go down to the dust shall bow before him” (Psalm 22:29). We can’t keep our own souls alive, but God will. And we will continue to serve him and proclaim his righteousness (Psalm 22:29-31).

Jan

2020

Precious Lord, Take My Hand

Originally published on The Electric Gospel on March 30, 2017, from a chapel message delivered on a college campus.

Precious Lord, Take My Hand

by David Sellnow

Thomas Dorsey’s father was a preacher and a sharecropper. His mother was a church organist. Already from the time he was a boy, Thomas wanted a career in music. At age eleven, he left school to take a job in a local vaudeville theater in Atlanta, Georgia – where the family was living. From ages twelve to fourteen he was earning a living playing piano in bars and brothels and for house parties. By the time he was seventeen, he headed to Chicago to pursue his music further. After working for a time in a steel mill in Gary, Indiana, Dorsey studied music at the Chicago School of Composing and Arranging. He found success in the music business in Chicago as a composer and arranger and piano player. He was known as “The Whispering Piano Player” from playing after-hours parties where the music had to be kept quiet enough so as not to attract the attention of the police.

Dorsey was so frantically engaged in his musical life that at age 21, he suffered a nervous breakdown. He went back home to Atlanta to recuperate. His mother wanted him to stop playing the blues; he should “serve the Lord,” she said. He didn’t listen. He went back to Chicago. Coming to be known as “Georgia Tom,” he amassed even greater musical success as a sought-after band leader or accompanist for blues performers such as Ma Rainey, Tampa Red Whittaker, Scrapper Blackwell, Big Bill Broonzy, Frankie Jaxson, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Memphis Minnie, and Victoria Spivey.

In 1925, Dorsey married his sweetheart, Nettie Harper, who was Ma Rainey’s wardrobe manager. But Dorsey continued to struggle with depression and mental stress and suffered a second major breakdown in 1926. He was suicidal and unable to compose or perform music. Doctors didn’t seem to help. Taking time off didn’t fix things. His sister-in-law urged him to come to church, and he did. He even visited a faith-healer, who told him, “Brother Dorsey, there is no reason for you to be looking so poorly and feeling so badly. The Lord has too much work for you to let you die.” From then on, Dorsey began to do what his mother had always wanted – write and play music for the Lord. He saw connections between the blues and gospel music. He once said, “If a woman has lost a man, a man has lost a woman, his feeling reacts to the blues; he feels like expressing it. The same thing acts for a gospel song. Now you’re not singing the blues; you’re singing gospel, good news song, singing about the Creator. But it’s the same feeling, a grasping of the heart.”

But most churches didn’t want his music. From 1928-1931, as Dorsey tried to sell his gospel music to churches, he was rebuffed. The churches didn’t like how he infused sacred music with blues and jazz. His music didn’t align with the conservative culture preachers were trying to promote. Dorsey had to return to composing and playing the blues in order to make a living. But he kept working on his gospel-based music at the same time.

In August, 1932, Thomas Dorsey had gone to St. Louis where he was to be the featured soloist at a large church revival meeting. His wife was in the last month of pregnancy with their first child. While he was in St. Louis, he received a telegram. Nettie had gone into labor and had died in childbirth … and the baby died too. The man was overcome with grief. It took many days before he could to pull himself together at all. When he did, it was by playing piano. And at the piano, about a month later, in the midst of all that grief, he wrote the most famous song of his musical career: “Precious Lord, Take My Hand.” In the years to come, Dorsey continued writing songs for the church and influencing church music. Writer of around 800 songs in his career, he became known as the father of gospel music in America.

The circumstances of our lives don’t always go in the direction we envision. We have hopes. We have dreams. We have plans and ambitions. And then things don’t go as we plan. Life takes turns in directions we didn’t expect. Sometimes everything comes crashing down around us. Our lives collapse in on top of us. Problems pile up to where we can’t see past them. We find ourselves shaken, confused, wondering what happened, wondering where was God. We so often don’t see what God plans to do for us and with us as he shepherds us through the valley of the shadow of death or whatever turmoil he lets us go through. What we do know is that God intends always what is good for us, that in all things he is working for our good – for our eternal good, in line with his eternal purposes (cf. Romans 8:28). God never abandons those whom he has called as his children. Our precious Lord is always working to bring us home to himself, bring us back to his promises, to anchor us in the love and hope that are never in doubt – in the Messiah, in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Thomas Dorsey wanted a career in popular music. The Lord chastened him severely, and turned him toward a deepness of faith and toward writing songs that convey the comfort of the gospel – songs that have greatly benefited Christ’s church.

There’s a similar sort of story in the Bible – the story of Joseph. When he was 17, in the fabulous dreamcoat that he’d received from his father, Joseph had fabulous dreams about his future. People would be bowing down to him. He was going to be somebody! It all sounded so amazing and exciting. Little did Joseph know then what his future actually would hold. His brothers abused and mistreated him. They dumped him in a pit and then sold him off like they would a cow or a donkey. He served as a slave. He was accused of a crime he didn’t commit. He languished away in prison. Ultimately, he did end up in a position of power and authority – but only after the Lord had worked hard on his heart and soul through deeply painful experiences in his life.

In the end, when Joseph’s brothers found themselves in a desperate position—coming to Egypt for food because Egypt was the only place that had food—Joseph tested them to see that God had been working on their hearts and souls too. They didn’t recognize him after all those years and in his Egyptian appearance. When Joseph revealed to them who he was, he made it clear he held no grudges against them. He saw how God had guided the path of all their lives up to that point, and trusted that God would be the hope of their people (and all people) for the future.

Today’s Bible reading is Genesis 50:15-21 – from the years in Egypt after Joseph had revealed himself to his brothers and the whole clan of Israel had moved down to Egypt.

When Joseph’s brothers saw that their father was dead, they said, “What if Joseph holds a grudge against us and pays us back for all the wrongs we did to him?” So they sent word to Joseph, saying, “Your father left these instructions before he died: ‘This is what you are to say to Joseph: I ask you to forgive your brothers the sins and the wrongs they committed in treating you so badly.’ Now please forgive the sins of the servants of the God of your father.” When their message came to him, Joseph wept.

His brothers then came and threw themselves down before him. “We are your slaves,” they said.

But Joseph said to them, “Don’t be afraid. Am I in the place of God? You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. So then, don’t be afraid. I will provide for you and your children.” And he reassured them and spoke kindly to them.

Prayer:
Heavenly Father, teach us to trust you through the whole course of our lives – not only when things are going well or in ways we hoped or planned, but also when life is a struggle, when things go horribly wrong, when tragedies strike us. You hold us in your hand. You guide us by your Spirit through your Word. Keep us in your care, and help us to confess that whatever happens, you will be working in all things to bring about good for us as your children – with the ultimate good being that we join you in life eternal. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Dec

2019

When heaven seems silent

Originally published on The Electric Gospel on March 28, 2015.

We’re heading into Holy Week – an annual remembrance of Jesus’ darkest hours. At week’s beginning, he was hailed with cheers and acclaim by the people of Jerusalem. By week’s end they looked upon him with revulsion and demanded his death. During his unthinkable suffering, his thoughts were on us, the people for whom he was living his life, for whom he was dying in ignominy at our hands. In any suffering we face now, we look to our Lord as the one who has suffered for us, who has redeemed us, who gives us hope.

Writing to someone she knows is suffering, Jenni Mickelson points to Jesus and the hope we have in him — even when circumstances seem hopeless. We know that not only did he suffer for us; he reclaimed his life in victory and assures us of victory.

A letter to someone who is suffering

by Jenni Mickelson

*********************************

For the one who wants to let go…but must hold on: “We walk by faith, not by sight.”

(2 Corinthians 5:7)

—

“I believe in the sun even when it is not shining.
I believe in love even when I do not feel it.
I believe in God even when he is silent.”

– Etched on cellar wall during the Holocaust
—

Dear one, I feel your pain behind the smile, the hopeful words and “musts” and “dos.” You are longing for a present much better than the one you are in. It’s as if you are in a thick mud at the side of a road, struggling in panic like an injured deer, back legs broken, to flee her fear and her pain. You speak of a new day, a new heaven and a new earth, and you pray and you read and you thank. But in the next breath you are crying for another time, another place, another life.

Let me tell you this: Your life has been a prelude to this moment. This moment, when the cross feels too unbearable to carry, the strain too great for your feeble arms, the fear and the agony too overwhelming to endure one more step on the narrow road. God has led you here, to this moment, to follow the blood-stained footsteps of Jesus.

Rejection, torture, anguish – these defined the hours, the days, the years of our Lord here on earth. True God and true Man – and this was his destiny: to be forsaken by his children, to be gruesomely flogged and crucified like a criminal, to hang in the sight of unbelieving onlookers and a Father who put his only Son through the pain of hell – for us.

“Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?…
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46)

Sin did not waste its time in tormenting our Savior. But sin was not greater. Sin’s wrath did not define our dear Jesus. For, on that early Sunday morning, in the pale of a new dawn, he rose above the grave and received the glory of life. And it is this that he gives us, too, willingly.

When you fall under your cross, let the blood of our God renew you and give you strength. As you collapse under the load, let the power of Jesus’ love and mercy pick your feeble body back up. And when sin finally threatens to impale you with the nails of hell forever, point to the hill at the end of the road – the hill of victory, the hill of God’s Passion. You will live another day. This moment is God’s love letter to you: “Live. Do you see the light of my Son in you? ‘Your faith has made you well’” (Luke 17:19).

“I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord;
be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord” (Psalm 27:13-14).

Dec

2019

The One who suffered is with us in our sufferings

Originally published on the Electric Gospel on August 19, 2014.

I had a friend who was going through some challenges at a particular time. I sent my friend this little note at that time … and thought maybe it worth sharing more widely with others of you here.

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Faithful in Affliction

by David Sellnow

“I know, LORD, that your laws are righteous, and that in faithfulness you have afflicted me” (Psalm 119:75).

That word of prayer is hard for me to say, hard for you to say. When we are afflicted, when things get hard, our first instinct is to say, “God, you’re not fair. This is ridiculous! How could you possibly ask me to put up with this?”

But we keep praying, we keep leaning on God. Maybe people here on earth have treated us unfairly. Maybe situations here on earth will twist and contort us way out of our comfort zone. But the LORD our God is never unfair. And he doesn’t let us go through any ordeals or “valleys of the shadow of death” without going through it all with us, right by our side. Our good shepherd has his rod and staff in hand, to battle for us and pull us out of trouble, and we are comforted (cf. Psalm 23:4).

Lord, forgive us for thinking you are unfair in your dealings with us. We know that even in our afflictions, you remain faithful and true to us always. Your ways are righteous. In faithfulness you allow us to suffer, but you walk with us through every detail of the suffering — and no one knows suffering better than you do, Lord Jesus. You walked the road to your own execution, a cross crushing your shoulders, thorns piercing your skull, whip lashes oozing blood from your back.

You walked the path of affliction for us. Now, when we are afflicted, walk with us. We trust you.

Forsaken … but not forsaken

Precious Lord, Take My Hand

A letter to someone who is suffering

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