A Mind that Stays

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.” Isaiah 26:3 

Does your mind “stay”?

Some friends brought their dog to our place one day, and since our yard at the time was safely fenced in, they let the dog off its leash. Immediately it dashed to the furthest corner of the grass, sniffed the perimeter for about 1.5 seconds, and wormed its way right off of our property through a small gap in the posts. So much for a peaceful afternoon.

Everyone jumped up, frantic. We shouted the dog’s name, chased it all over the neighborhood, and our friends yelled at it to “stay!” as they ran out of breath. Not a chance. He wouldn't stay.

And my mind won’t either. All of the what-ifs from the other side of the fence spark my imagination and beg for exploration, and my mind runs wildly. For me, this is especially true at night, when darkness closes in around me. How can we experience this truth from Isaiah 26:3 when we have minds that wander more than they stay?

First, I look at each word in this verse. The Brown-Driver-Briggs Lexicon (unless otherwise noted) gives these insights for better understanding:

Keep: “guard, watch over” 

Perfect peace: “shalom shalom” (repetition is the Hebrew way to emphasize a concept)

Mind: “imagination, frame of mind” 

Stay: literally, “to place or lay something upon any thing so that it may rest upon and be supported by it” -Gesenius’ Hebrew-Chaldee Lexicon

Trust: “have confidence in” 

If I were to use these definitions in application to my own struggle, the verse would sound like this: “You stand guard with your extra-wide shield of peace over me when my imagination lays its head down on you, because I’m confident in you.” 

When my mind tugs relentlessly at its leash in the middle of the night, I’m securing the fence posts around my imagination with a simple practice: Picture every post painted with a letter of the alphabet,  A, B, C, etc.  Each letter represents a truth, whether it’s a verse that begins with that letter, or an attribute of God himself, or something for which I’m thankful. 

Hammer the A post deeper into the grass: God is All-seeing

Pound the B post so it’s not going anywhere: Every spiritual Blessing is mine in Christ

Stake down the C post with: “Cast your cares on Him, because He cares for you.” (bonus for 3 c’s!)

I keep going around the border of my mind, letter by letter, so that it’s only bound by reality and resting on God. And those parameters leave me free to be shielded by peace that comes from staying.

Questions I ask myself: 

Is my imagination supported by God or by something else? 

Do my thoughts filter through a framework of confidence in God?

Am I so eager for the reward of peace that I’m willing to train my mind to “stay”?

P.S. Yes, the dog was eventually found, and I’m sure our friends keep a watchful eye on the condition of their fence;)

Retreat Recap

I spent the weekend of September 12-14 with about 250 women at beautiful Lake Ann Camp in Michigan. Together we addressed the apparent dissonance between the God-centered requests and the need-centered requests that Jesus teaches in The Lord’s Prayer. Is it possible to be God-centered when we have so many needs?

When I began studying The Lord’s Prayer, I wondered whether hallowing God’s name could ever be a desire in the middle of a practical need like daily bread. I questioned whether a longing for God’s kingdom would be possible under the burden of broken relationships in this immediate world. I asked whether doing God’s will on earth - a hostile place full of temptation and very unlike heaven - could ever truly be possible.

But if we allow God’s holiness to inform us about bread, His kingdom to teach us about relationships, and His will to be our path of deliverance, something in us changes. What we discovered over the weekend is that as Jesus teaches us how to pray about our needs, he teaches us how to live in our neediness.

I’ve attached #3 of the four sessions, which brings together the second set of requests: “Your kingdom come…forgive us our debts as we also have forgiven our debtors.”

Is “Failure” Fruitless?

Nehemiah 13

Last Monday we dropped our oldest off at college. He was worried about my tears as we hugged goodbye, but I reassured him that nothing was wrong. And that’s true, even though it felt like I was leaving behind my 1 year old who had just learned how to walk, or my 5 year old who had just learned how to read, or my 10 year old who had just learned the difference between girls and boys. 

How can this be ok?

Eighteen years of parenting, and that stage is over with a wave out the window. 

We wonder deep down, if we led well enough. 

Whether you’re a parent or not, any time we invest ourselves whole-heartedly in someone or something, any time we give our lives to a cause or to a calling, any time we lead the way in some type of role, we’re hoping and praying for certain results. The late nights, the long prayers, the lack of sleep - will all of that end in positive outcomes?

It seems that the flourishing of both people and projects hinges entirely on the leader, especially today when leadership development initiatives are having their cultural moment. But in the final chapter of Nehemiah, we find unexpected reassurance - for both moms and managers - in a leader’s “failure”. 

For twelve years he prayed, labored and devoted himself to his calling, but the minute Nehemiah stepped away, it all fell apart. Some say these kinds of results indicate a leadership issue: If only he had done a better job building his bench, preparing the next generation, there would not have been a leadership gap. If only he had actually cared about the people, they would have followed someone who cared. If only he had a system in place, the people would have had the clarity they needed in his absence. Since leadership is influence, these results must mean he didn’t have either. Maybe God didn’t choose him after all.

We have only to read the previous chapters to know that these assumptions would be wrong. 

Famous for its leadership principles, the book ironically ends with Nehemiah’s agony and frustration. Nothing he did actually stuck with the people. His example couldn’t keep them on the right path, and his reforms couldn't hold them close to God. 

But these realities narrow Nehemiah’s focus: his calling isn’t actually about a certain response from the people he’s led; his calling is really between God and him (v. 14,22,31). If your leadership, your parenting, or your efforts to make change have failed to produce the results you were hoping for, you might be overlooking the fruit God sees: your own personal faithfulness to His calling, just like Nehemiah’s.

Musicians Needed

Nehemiah 10-12

After reviewing their scandalous history and confessing their desperation for God’s intervention, the people recommit themselves to live according to God’s ways. They sign their names on the dotted line, agreeing to center their lives around worshiping Him, and this covenant would have practical implications for their relationships, business dealings, agricultural rhythms, and temple staff.

Temple staff include priests, Levites, gatekeepers, and singers, and these four positions are a primary concern in Nehemiah 10-12. During the initial planning of the first temple, King David had formalized these temple roles (1 Chronicles 23-26), organizing each group by their specific place of service. 

In order for these groups to lead the people well in the worship of Yahweh, they would depend on the support of their surrounding community. If they lacked daily provisions, the priests, Levites, gatekeepers, and singers would be forced to abandon their temple posts in pursuit of careers that could meet their everyday needs, and once the temple was abandoned by its staff, Israel’s worship would crumble. 

If times were tough and harvest was slim, imagine how easy it would be to cut down on temple staff, likely starting with the role of musicians. How many accountants could have asked, What are they actually doing? What’s our ROI for these musicians? 

Interestingly, the topic of singers, music, song, or praise is brought up at least 17 times in chapters 10 -12. Music had such a place of priority that those who led songs in the temple were given “a fixed provision as every day required” (11:23) or “daily portions” (12:47). Corporate worship required a different kind of effort than farming required, but it was still work deserving of compensation.  

Although they led in only one aspect of worship, musicians had a role that transcended time. Israel passed on their culture, history, and theology, but not through individual textbooks or silent reading assignments. They had an oral tradition, rich with recitations and melodies, preserving for the next generation all of Israel’s momentous occasions, significant beliefs, and works of God through lyrics and song. 

Music does more than facilitate worship. Music unites. It brings together a vast and diverse audience into one voice, one body. Music flows like water, carrying truth along and seeping into the deepest places of the heart. As it settles, it softens and repairs. Words alone can be powerful, but they can also be quite forgettable; therefore, music functions like a preservative, keeping memories alive, and truth from growing stale. 

The people dedicate the wall of Jerusalem, accompanied by the echos of temple choirs, “And the joy of Jerusalem was heard far away.” (12:43) They factor in the singers with the priests, Levites, and gatekeepers, and they all agree that a life of worship will be their priority. As if foreshadowing chapter 13, they declare, “We will not neglect the house of our God.” (10:39)

But this revival climax won’t last long.

But, Yet, & Nevertheless

Nehemiah 9

Israel’s history looks like a seesaw - an up and down, back and forth pattern where two sides function in opposing ways. On one side are the people, and on the other, God himself, and their teetering relationship rests on these words at the fulcrum: but, yet, and nevertheless.

God moves closer, but Israel runs further.

God leans in, yet Israel leans out.

God remains steady. Nevertheless, Israel turns away.

The contrast is obvious, and it’s amplified by another conjunction: and. God’s actions on their behalf add up like a problem from a page in a math book: God did this, and that, and also gave this, and knew that, and provided that, and brought this...

“But they stiffened their neck and did not obey...” 9:16

“Yet they acted presumptuously…” 9:29

“Nevertheless they rebelled, cast your law behind their back, killed your prophets, and committed great blasphemies…” 9:26

It seems that these three connecting words signal doom for Israel and that there’s no way to reverse them. And yet, even these dreaded words can mean redemption when what follows them describes God:

“But you are a God ready to forgive…” 9:17

“Yet you have been righteous in all that has come upon us, 

for you have dealt faithfully…” 9:33

“Nevertheless, in your great mercies you did not make an end of them or forsake them, 

for you are a gracious and merciful God.” 9:31

If Israel’s but, yet, and nevertheless sound like your story with God, know that the but, yet, and nevertheless of God form the fulcrum of our relationship with Him. In Christ, they tip the scales in our favor, because his grace outweighs our sin, his faithfulness is greater than our disloyalty, and his mercy runs deeper than our pride.