The mysterious "delight" word

"Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart." (Psalms 37:4) This verse is alluring. "He will give you the desires of your heart." It sounds like a "your dreams will come true" line and "someone's going to give you what you want." Who wouldn't want that, if that were the case?

Some have said that "give" doesn't mean "pass on a nice gift" but rather "make a change in you" ("impart" or "assign") as in "give you a new hair color": "give you the kinds of internal desires/attitudes you should have, such as patience and kindness."

Ignoring for the moment what "give" means, it seems clear enough that the thing that causes the giving to happen is delighting yourself in the Lord. So, one of the many things to try to figure out in this verse is what "delight" means. My first inclination is to think it means something like "work harder at serving God in some way." But now I don't think it means that. And if I can grasp its real meaning, if, as a friend says, the concept can make the 18 inch drop (from head to heart), I believe my life would improve tremendously.

A few months ago, I heard a sermon. The preacher used this verse as the basis of his entire discussion. Hey, the points he made were inspiring, and I'm sure they are supported by verses elsewhere in the bible, but when he gave the definition of delight and said it came from a particular Hebrew word, that didn't sound right to me. I had looked up that word 15 years ago and had a different impression about the word. Wanting to revisit the original Hebrew words in that verse is what drove me to find and dig into the online reference (and I wrote the first blog entry so that others could do the same).

I remember being taught some questions to ask myself if I'm trying to draw conclusions from bible verses (e.g. if teaching others): Is whatever I wish to identify as a key point true (that's usually the easiest one)? Is it timelessly true (that can be tougher; the point cannot conflict with other parts of the bible; it's worth considering whether it is cross-cultural, too)? Is it from this passage (is that what this passage is about, or does particular wording tempt you to make a point out of context)?

Having had that stressed in my own training, I perk up when a preacher claims some concept is from the verse and I doesn't feel to me like it's really from that verse. Hey, it might be that their point is true and just not from this passage, but I think they should be clear about that. Otherwise, I think it is bad for the listeners for a few reasons: it might encourage them to interpret verses in whatever way suits them best; it might make them think that the teacher has some special ability to extract information from the verse that the rest of us don't naturally see there. I appreciate that I was taught to be thorough and self-checking before passing it on. I was encouraged to be sure that what I'm leaning on as truth really comes from scripture.

The Hebrew word the preacher cites is definitely used in the bible, but it wasn't the Hebrew word used by this verse. The word here is used only 10 times in the bible. The online references gave these definitions: luxurious, delicate, feminine, to be of dainty habit, be pampered, to be happy about, take exquisite delight, to make merry over, make sport of. I can fit "be happy about" in the verse, but what am I to make of "delicate" and "dainty"? There is something I need to understand there, for the author chose that Hebrew word instead of some other Hebrew word that could also be translated as "delight." (I haven't figured that part out yet.)

Here are the 10 phrases in the bible in which the Hebrew word is used: delicate woman; delicateness; delight in the Almighty; delight himself in the Almighty; delight yourself in the Lord (this verse); delight themselves in the abundance of peace; soul delight itself in fatness; against whom do you sport yourselves; delight yourself in the Lord; delighted with the abundance of her glory; delicate woman.

Of the places this word is translated "delight," most are about the Lord, which doesn't help me figure out its meaning. But the other uses of "delight" add some breadth to it, particularly the one that appears 7 verses later in Psalm 37: "But the meek shall inherit the earth and shall delight themselves in the abundance of peace."

I mentioned earlier that my first inclination is to think that "delight" means "work harder at serving God in some way"...."Serve God better and he'll give you the desires of your heart." If I try to work that "serve" definition into the "peace" verse, it clearly doesn't work: "they shall serve the abundance of peace."

That "peace" verse helps me see how delight is being used here. Think of how nice it is when calm returns, when you've had a good night's sleep, when health and strength return, when a storm passes, when you resolve conflict with a loved one. Peace is nice. Abundant peace would be amazing. People could really relax and be happy. That would be a surprising thing, an amazing thing. Observing and grasping the abundance of peace could make a person feel really good. They wouldn't have to work for peace; they could just observe it and enjoy it. It would be a response to a great thing.

That works. I can grasp that "delight" in both the "peace" verse and the "Lord Almighty" verses is about having a happy response, not a "go do it" action. So, does verse 4 mean, "Respond to the surprising, amazing goodness of the Lord..."? I think so. Plenty of people have stories to share that underscore this. Their lives have been transformed because they "get it."

My sister Jan is an example. Cancer has trashed her body, yet she has nothing but delight for God now and welcomes cancer as God's wake up call for her. Read her story here.

For the rest of us, perhaps the exercise continues in our understanding this verse. "What is it about the Lord that, if I observe it, comprehend it, would surprise me and amaze me and bring about an internal response, just like someone delighting in there being peace?"

Growth curve

Mom attended Jay Gould's memorial this afternoon. A character quality that stood out was his patience.

One of his children recalled how, when driving was pretty new to them, they drove around the corner and into their driveway a bit too fast and ran into the corner of the garage.

Jay came out and said, "So, what did you learn?"

Wow. What a response.

When it is stormy

A few years ago, I read about an art contest in which people were to paint on the theme of peace.

The majority of the paintings were what we'd expect: a restful setting in nature; a child resting in its mothers arms; Jesus in some setting.

The setting of the painting that won was a dark forest during an intense storm. Not immediately visible was a mother bird with body and wings protecting chicks who were fast asleep.

I want to be at rest like that.

Focal point

After I posted my Papa story, a friend asked for further insight. As I thought, many ideas collided in my head, all demanding attention. Some of my ideas were pretty clever, I thought, but I'd soon doubt those and add on other ideas. A lot of speculation on my part.

Quickly this became one of those times when I got stirred up about having questions and about not having answers. I went for a walk to think, pray, readjust.

The biblical story of Job came to mind. He apparently was in need of correction in the area of questioning God. He lost family, possessions, health...and, in his misery, was shadowed by some aquaintances who spoke volumes about their understanding of things, no doubt adding to his own list of questions. Eventually, God speaks up. While Job might've wished for answers, he instead was delivered a long list of rhetorical questions that, as I see it, could be summarized as, "Why do you think you understand anything, and who are you to expect answers? I'm God, and from the list of details I've laid out, I've given just a glimpse about how amazing I am and how tiny you are." (I wonder how long Job was silent after that. Was he crushed and needed healing? Or did he rebound quickly because he'd just had meaningful direct communication with God.)

A week ago, I read an article that touched on some of these same thoughts. (I've been meaning to write about it. This current event was a good springboard for me to get on with the writing task.) The article was written by a monk dude from the 16th century, now referred to as "John of the Cross." I had been reading a collection of Christian writings dating from the 4th century to the 20th century. I had just skipped one article because it rubbed me the wrong way due to it totally NOT synching with where I was at in my mental and emotional wrestling. And then I hit this article by John of the Cross. It quickly penetrated me; the author touched on where I was at or had been at. And rather than get messages of "hang in there, things will get better," I received "answerless" messages more along the line of what Job got.

I searched on the internet for the monk dude's text. In my exploring, I came to learn that that there was a huge text text called Dark Night of the Soul by John of the Cross. The original, in 16th century English, is basically unreadable for my brain. Aha--the nice version that I had first come across was some kind soul's Reader's Digest-like distillation of some gems from the bigger volume. Ah, so nice that someone rewrote it for today's audience to absorb. (If you are interested, here is a copy of that rewrite.

I watched a show on TV about two people challenged to take dogs from the pound and turn them into highly effective working dogs. They were pretty successful. I thought to myself, "Maybe that's what I need: a God-designed job that will give me the chance to pass on what I know, or something like that."

"They become content with their growth. They would prefer to teach rather than to be taught... The devil knows that all of their works and virtues will become valueless and, if unchecked, will become vices. For they begin to do these spiritual exercises to be esteemed by others. They want others to realize how spiritual they are. They will also begin to fear confession to another for it would ruin their image. So they soften their sins when they make confession in order to make them appear less imperfect."

I screw up. I make mistakes. I do wrong things. I annoy people. If only God would flip some switches so I weren't so annoying and didn't have so many faults. It would be so much better for others if I were a great person.

"They will beg God to take away their imperfections. but they do this only because they want to find inner peace and not for God?s sake. They do not realize that if God were to take away their imperfections from them, they would probably become prouder and more presumptuous still."

I can swing from the apathetic end of the spectrum to the end of stressing to do better. "Something's got to work!"

"They will become discontented with what God gives them because they do not experience the consolation they think they deserve. They begin reading many books and performing many acts of piety in an attempt to gain more and more spiritual consolation."

I'll carry my discontent into church... the music's too loud; it's too repetitive; people in the audience aren't responding; people are a little too enthusiastic; "it must not be the right music."

"Their hearts grow attached to the feelings they get from their devotional life. They focus on the affect, and not on the substance of devotion. Quite often these souls will attach themselves to particular religious objects or holy places and begin to value visible things too highly."

How long will this drag on? What am I missing? Why am I apparently so dull as to not finish whatever lesson I should've finished long ago?

"There are some who become angry with themselves at this point, thinking that their loss of joy is a result of something they have done or have neglected to do. They will strive to become saints in a day. They will make all kinds of resolutions to be more spiritual, but the greater the resolution, the greater is the fall. Their problem is that they lack the patience that waits for whatever God would give them and when God chooses to give them.
They are not walking in true obedience, but rather, are doing what they want in the time and measure that they have chosen. They do these things not for God but for themselves, and for this reason they will soon grow weary in them."

And what about my skill in piano playing? Sometimes I am asked when I will play piano again in church. Yeah, I say to myself, why aren't I playing anymore? Why did the invitations stop? If only they'd let me play, we'd see a decrease in the negatives now experienced with the church's music. My talent is going to waste! What good is that??

"Their chief concern is to be praised themselves. They are not pleased that such attention is being given to someone else and would prefer to be thought of as the most spiritual of all. This is contrary to love, which, as Paul says, rejoices in goodness.

Spiritual sloth happens when the pleasure is removed from the spiritual life. Such souls become weary with spiritual exercises because they do not yield any consolation, and thus, they abandon them. They become angry because they are called to do that which does not fit their needs. They begin to lose interest in God for they measure God by themselves and not themselves by God. Such souls are too weak to bear the crosses that are given to us to help us grow."

Papa Father, you've caught me. I'm laid bare. Thanks for leading me also to the article by David Kyle Foster where he faced his own self-focused attitudes:

"Finally, in the silence one evening, God spoke clearly to me that He was teaching me to believe in His love, acceptance and protection even when I could not feel the spiritual feelings that had previously been my confirmation of those things.

"So I made an attempt to embrace that lesson and, once learned, return to the intimate exchange of feeling and emotion that had previously existed in such awesome sweetness.

"It did not come.

"Then I got angry. Why are you playing such games with me God? Do you get your kicks from holding back such a priceless thing as intimacy from me to tease me? It makes me feel like a dumb ass who continually falls for the carrot on a stick trick. It makes me feel so controlled, so dependent, so much like the creature that, well, I guess I am. It was an anger born from the realization that I was not the God of the universe and that I could not command answers or action from God as though I were. It was the unveiling of yet another level of pride.

"How can I worship when there is no response? How can I pray or read Scripture when there's no evidence of your presence or that you even care?

"I realized that the arrested devotional life that I had been experiencing had been partially related to a world-view that viewed self as the focus of intimacy with God. Thus, without tangible affirmation by God that He was participating in our relationship, I adopted the tragic figure of abandoned one, freezing in place and stamping my feet in protest. I did not go out and sin in protest, because I wanted God to be the guilty party in this crisis!

"'We should not judge the value of our meditation by how we feel.' God is never closer than when He seems the most absent. We must believe that. We must move forward in serving Him, in declaring His praise, in telling our stories of His love and grace whether we receive immediate tangible reward or not. Why? Because He is worthy.

"Dark night or party time, decide now that you are going to stand firm in the truth. feast or famine, hell or high water, Jesus Christ remains the way, the truth and the life. He is all that matters. His calling, His life, His healing power, His riches in glory, His love and grace are yours now and forevermore!"

Papa Father, may my soul remain quieted. May I remember that I'm talking to the God of the universe and simply delight in your love for me, even if this worlds' stressors and the annoyances of this earth suit of mine never cut me a break.

"God must take away the consolation to purify the soul from these imperfections. Those who are moving in God's way will counter this pride with humility. They will learn to think very little of themselves and their religious works. Instead, they will focus on how great and how deserving God is and how little it is that they can do for him. A soul will never grow until it is able to let go of the tight grasp it has on God. They must learn spiritual meekness which will come about in the dark night.

"Let it suffice to say, then, that God perceives the imperfections within us, and because of his love for us, urges us to grow up. His love is not content to leave us in our weakness, and for this reason he takes us into a dark night. He weans us from all of the pleasures by giving us dry times and inward darkness.
In doing so he is able to take away all these vices and create virtues within us. Through the dark night pride becomes humility, greed becomes simplicity, wrath becomes contentment, luxury becomes peace, gluttony becomes moderation, envy becomes joy, and sloth becomes strength. No soul will ever grow deep in the spiritual life unless God works passively in that soul by means of the dark night.

Thanks for loving me.

It was good to remember

It was helpful to have written that prior post. When I was laying in bed, mind swirling on topics from the day, I found peace in quieting my soul and picturing Papa Father and saying to him (to agree with him for my benefit), "You love me!"

Why I started calling Dad "Papa"

Most of my life, I called my father Dad. In the last few years, there were times I'd call him Papa.

A writer in the bible said something like, "you received the Spirit of adoption, by whom we cry 'Abba, Father.'" I've been told that "Abba" was a tender term used by children of their father, like my saying "Daddy."

I'm one of those people who has had a hard time comprehending God's love, despite how much I know from scripture. For whatever reason, I'm more likely to be fearful, and my natural tendency is to picture God as standoffish and strict. (It has been noted by many that our perception of God is highly influenced by our perception of our own fathers. Yeah, I can see how my perceptions of my father in my youth would fit that.) Because of this, I am inclined to address God as just "God" (rather fatherless) and it feels a bit unnatural to address him as "Father." (If you don't have that problem and can't understand why I have that problem, lucky you :) )

I recognize that my perception problem is exactly that: my problem. As long as I keep imposing my view of God on God, I'll maintain my incorrect view. I need to work at aligning my perception with reality--and oh how I wish that weren't such an effort.

Several years ago, a man whose father had abused him as a child talked about his own breakthrough, about what helped him shift from viewing God as remote and uncaring to seeing God as loving and caring for him: he pictured God being there while his father abused him and pictured God weeping in compassion/sorrow for him in his terrible situation. For him, that was the beginning of his emotionally perceiving and grasping God's deep love for him. I think there was more to his transformation, but a point I picked up was that his freedom began with applying a good picture and emotions that represented reality and helped displace his incorrect child-based thinking and emotions. (He offered advice to anyone in a similar predicament: as you are out and about, if you happen to see some parent showing tenderness and love to their kid, pay attention to that, take it in--God loves you in an emotional way, too.)

The bible mentions the "Abba" thing because that's a reality that I should grasp, just like another verse that talks about me being adopted by God as an adult son and not simply being a servant. Father/son. That is hugely different from Creator/created (though that is another reality I must not ignore). Father/son opens up a connection--relationship. "Abba" underscores the intensity of it--the childlike ease of a child addressing his or her Dad.

If my Dad were CEO of some big corporation and everyone else had to schedule appointments with him and have all their PowerPoint slides in order and be on edge about their status, I shouldn't have to worry about that at all. I should be able to show up and know that I can sit sideways in my chair with legs over the armrest and just enjoy chatting with Dad. Is that really what I should be able to do with my creator? I have to believe yes because of verses like the one about "Abba."

I've heard "Abba" used in beautiful songs, said in prayers. But I doubt that most of us, in hearing or speaking or singing such are thinking the real meaning of it, "Daddy." Abba just isn't a normal part of our language and is likely to just become a pretty-sounding word for use in poetry or something. At the same time, I'm not about to say "Daddy" to God. I can't comfortably call God "Daddy, Father"--it just sounds cheap and silly to me. There was a term that sounded possible, though: "Papa." For my ear, my thinking, "Papa" has a tender quality without sounding silly. So, it seemed like the closest equivalent to Abba in my vocabulary.

Not having an immediate sense of God's love, I'll use whatever can help kick me in the right direction. I want to be able to more comfortably think of God as my Abba-Father and less as a remote, uncaring God. I recalled my own father's love for me. I knew with what ease I could chat with him and the times of tenderness we shared. I wanted to have a better image in my mind of the ease I should have in talking with God. (Don't worry, I'm not promoting any notion of limiting my view of God to only those things I found as positive in my Dad.)

So, on occasion, I called Dad "Papa" when talking to him. I got more used to using it with him. I made it a point to reserve it for times of endearment, times when there was more of a degree of connection and closeness in our interaction.

Little did I know that that word would have such value to Dad. He really liked it, I came to find out later. It was also what he called his father. There were a few times in the last days of his life when he was otherwise low in response to me that, when I called him Papa, he'd open his eyes and look at me and smile with delight, a delight in valuing our relationship. And that wasn't reserved for me--I observed that love of his for each of us in the family.

So, I've done it. I have made "Papa" more a part of the comfortable part of my mental vocabulary. Did I "use" my Dad in this? Was he part of my experiment? It does kind of look that way, huh. I knew when starting this blog entry that there was that strangeness to what I did. But I certainly didn't cheapen our relationship. And I see that good came from it for both of us.

After Dad's death, I have tried out "Papa" when talking to God. No, I'm not picturing Dad and promoting him. But I am trying to comprehend Abba, trying to comprehend the kind of relationship God wants to have with me, if I'll just relax, darn it. I am trying to get my brain to comprehend that I really am talking to a God who not only created the universe (and who is worthy, regardless of how I feel physically or emotionally, of my respect, obedience, honor, etc.) but also paid a huge price to make it possible for me to sit sideways in my chair, filthy rags and all, and find delight in my relationship with him. He's my Papa.

Crossing the Great Boa

Why did I choose "greatboa" as my blog address? Because something about Dad's death last year took on new meaning for me.

A few weeks ago, I went to see "End of the Spear" in the theatre, a movie about a real event from 1956. Five married American couples (some with kids) were in Ecuador, hoping to make contact with violent natives for whom murder of neighboring tribes was the norm. There were no grandparents in that hostile environment: no one lived long enough in that revenge-steeped community.

The Americans' spiritual beliefs compelled them to reach out in love to these warring tribes. After weeks of many drops of supplies from an airplane to build friendship and trust, the five men landed and met the villagers face to face. Shortly after, they were speared to death.

Before seeing the movie, what I knew about the story was pretty much limited to this: five friendly American male missionaries died from the spears of the natives, and then the missionary wives returned and made inroads with the natives.

When Mom learned that this story had been turned into a movie, she told me she had a file folder full of articles about the event. Ever since she heard of it in 1956, she'd kept whatever article she came across, from then till now, on that event and on developments since then, including Life magazine's multipage spread on the event back then. Amazing! We put the collection of 40+ articles on eBay. Two competing bidders turned out to be relatives of the five American men who died in a massacre presented in the film. The winning bidder was one of those relatives. Her father once had a collection of articles but lost them in a tragedy. She had been searching for some time for anyone who had articles...and searched just that week on eBay and found our listing. We were all so delighted to have made that connection. Articles of great meaning to Mom had ended up in the hands of those to whom they also had great value.

The old story I was vaguely familiar with was reason enough for me to go see the movie. The commercials for this movie added an additional lure, that of presenting the story from the vantage point of one of the sons who was going back to the village in the 1990s and would learn "what really happened."

In the movie, one of the natives expressed his struggle with "crossing the Great Boa". The phrase was used frequently in the movie. Sure, there were large boa constrictors in their rivers, but it was clear that "crossing the Great Boa" had some spiritual significance in their culture. Eventually, the native expressed his anguished thoughts to someone: he did not want death and burial to be the end of his life. He wanted to cross the Great Boa. His culture believed in something beyond death. If I understood right, he connected greatness and personal accomplishment (e.g. warrior status, defeat of enemies) with crossing the Great Boa. The parallel in my culture is one being in turmoil over their uncertainty about going to heaven.

Mom was with Dad last year when he died. I was with him the night before. In the days prior, his communication went from weak to nothing as his condition deteriorated from his cancer. (What a weighty loss for all of us to no longer be able to communicate with him. Those of you who have lost a loved one understand, don't you?) In his last days, if his eyes ever opened, they were blank, not focussed.

Just before his death, he bolted awake. Mom watched his eyes became clear and focussed as he looked at a couple different places in the room and quietly said, "amen! amen! amen!" Mom asked him, "What do you see?" (Her own mother, when asked in an alert moment before her death to identify family members in the room, named them all and also included Jesus. When asked again, because of the surprise of that answer, she repeated the same.) Dad never looked at her nor replied. Mom told him it was okay; he could go. A tear rolled out of the corner of his eye. Soon, he died. (The only tears we had seen before that were not of sorrow or even of physical pain. They were only tears resulting from joy welling up within him, simple humble delight in the love of friends who visited him.)

The movie was built around the son of one of the male missionaries who died. We got to see him grow up with the female missionaries who continued on. Then the end of the movie was about the son's return to that land to once again be with the natives he'd grown up with some 50 years earlier.

[Spoiler alert: The next paragraph tells how the movie ends.]

The adult son was talking with the native (long since a friend) who had killed his father long ago. The native wanted to tell the son a secret he had kept to himself, something that happened as the father was dying from this native's spear. Bright light had shined all around and both the native and the father looked up, seeing the heavens open and seeing heavenly beings. The native told the son, "I watched your father cross the Great Boa."

What a thing to observe. Tears rolled down my face in that theatre as my soul was flooded with joy in having a better understanding of what Mom got a glimpse of: Dad crossed the Great Boa.