Shadow

“Keep me as the apple of your eye;
    hide me in the shadow of your wings.” Psalm 17:8 ESV

So close. Breathing the same air, resting in his shadow. David rose out of his sin and into God’s favor. He grew with God, wrapping himself around God’s heart like ivy. This man knew how God’s heart beat, how he worked. David knew God.

Their bond created an expectancy that went both ways. God expected David to strive to “hold fast to God’s paths”—to work for his favor. Meanwhile, David demanded love and protection.

It’s shocking at first, David’s frankness. His blatant expectancy. Yet if you pause to think through why he felt he could ask anything of God, it begins to make sense.

I was talking with a coworker about my discovery of David’s expectancy. He had a very simple answer to why David could demand God’s protection. Faith.

When my coworker said that, I’m pretty sure I just stared at him for a second. Because it made so much sense. He quoted Hebrews 11:1 to me:

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for,
the conviction of things not seen.” (ESV)

At that moment, everything fell into place.

At some point as a kid, I learned that I could ask God for whatever I wanted. But then, after pursuing that like a kid would and treating God like some version of Santa Claus, I learned something else.

Humans are selfish, and God does not appease selfishness.

But there’s a difference between selfishness and self-interest. Selfishness is centered on getting what we want. Self-interest leads back to God. (I highly recommend reading the article “C.S. Lewis on Selfishness vs. Self-Interest” by Art Lindsley. It’s an excellent read.)

Therefore, certain things we can expect of God. We have a God who is for us, and I think we forget that too often. He has a good, good plan—and it involves us.

God is there for me. He’s supposed to be. We’re supposed to be close. I’m supposed to be confident that he’ll keep me safe.

So being expectant of God maybe shouldn’t be such a foreign concept to me.

Just a thought.

(Photo by the dear Katie Marie.)

Hope

It started with sin.

A blatant tear in our world’s perfection. Yet stitch by stitch, sacrifice by sacrifice, hope was built.

And then he came, the King, babbling and drooling and crying. Tentatively, we hoped. And then we tasted a small bit of heaven, and fire was in our hearts. He forgave our sins, healing our souls and our bodies.

We watched with wide eyes and open hearts. He taught, his words perfect and empowering.

But then the vote was cast, and his final moments were spent draped on the cross.

The tears spilled from our eyes, and sobs tumbled from our mouths. But still, trembling, we hoped. We clung to his promises.

And he pulled through. Hope lasted three days, until he came back for us. Our separation was eradicated.

Even though we can’t see him, can’t feel him, we still hope. Because one day, the burden of our sin will fall away. One day, our hope will be met, and all will be at peace.