Enjoying God
I Will Lift up my Hands!
Jul 17, 2007On more than one occasion I've been asked: "Sam, why do you lift your hands when you worship?" My answer is two-fold.
First, I raise my hands when I pray and praise because I have explicit biblical precedent for doing so. I don't know if I've found all biblical instances of it, but consider this smattering of texts.
"So I will bless you as long as I live; in your name I will lift up my hands" (Psalm 63:4).
"To you, O LORD, I call; my rock, be not deaf to me, lest, if you be silent to me, I become like those who go down to the pit. Hear the voice of my pleas for mercy, when I cry to you for help, when I lift up my hands toward your most holy sanctuary" (Psalm 28:1).
"Every day I call upon you, O LORD; I spread out my hands to you" (Psalm 88:9).
"I will lift up my hands toward your commandments, which I love, and I will meditate on your statutes" (Psalm 119:48).
"Lift up your hands to the holy place and bless the LORD!" (Psalm 134:2).
"O LORD, I call upon you; hasten to me! Give ear to my voice when I call to you! Let my prayer be counted as incense before you, and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice!" (Psalm 141:1-2).
"I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land" (Psalm 143:6).
"Then Solomon stood before the altar of the LORD in the presence of all the assembly of Israel and spread out his hands. Solomon had made a bronze platform five cubits long, five cubits wide, and three cubits high, and had set it in the court, and he stood on it. Then he knelt on his knees in the presence of all the assembly of Israel, and spread out his hands toward heaven" (2 Chronicles 6:12-13).
"And at the evening sacrifice I rose from my fasting, with my garment and my cloak torn, and fell upon my knees and spread out my hands to the LORD my God" (Ezra 9:5).
"And Ezra blessed the LORD, the great God, and all the people answered, ‘Amen, Amen,' lifting up their hands. And they bowed their heads and worshiped the LORD with their faces to the ground" (Nehemiah 8:6).
"Let us lift up our hearts and hands to God in heaven" (Lamentations 3:41).
"I desire then that in every place the men should pray, lifting holy hands without anger or quarreling" (1 Timothy 2:8).
If someone should object and say that few of these texts speak of worship (see Pss. 63:4; 134:2), but only of prayer (as if a rigid distinction can even be made between the two; indeed, I can't recall ever worshiping God without praying to him!), my question is simply this: Why do you assume that the appropriate place for your hands is at your side and you need an explicit biblical warrant for raising them? Wouldn't it be just as reasonable to assume that the appropriate place for one's hands is raised toward heaven, calling for an explicit biblical warrant (other than gravity or physical exhaustion) to keep them low?
The second answer I give to the question, "Why do you lift your hands when you worship?" is: "Because I'm not a Gnostic!" Gnosticism, both in its ancient and modern forms, disparages the body. Among other things, it endorses a hyper-spirituality that minimizes the goodness of physical reality. Gnostics focus almost exclusively on the non-material or "spiritual" dimensions of human existence and experience. The body is evil and corrupt, little more than a temporary prison for the soul that longs to escape into a pure, ethereal, altogether spiritual mode of being.
But biblical Christianity celebrates God's creation of physical reality (after all, he did pronounce it "good" in Genesis 1). We are more than immaterial creatures. We are embodied souls, and are to worship God with our whole being. Paul couldn't have been more to the point when he exhorted us to present our "bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God," which is our "spiritual worship" (Romans 12:1).
By all means, we must worship with understanding. We must think rightly of God and love him with our heart and soul and mind (see Mt. 22:37). But we are not, for that reason, any less physical beings. We will have glorified bodies forever in which to honor and adore our great God. If we are commanded to dance, kneel, sing and speak when we worship, what possible reason could there be for not engaging our hands as well?
Ronald Allen is spot on in his portrayal of the significance of the human hand:
"It is the human hand which beautifully typifies the human spirit. It is distinct from the hands of the lower animals in appearance and dexterity. Observe the hands of a skilled person; no matter the field, it is an amazing exhibition of the genius of our creative Lord. Think of the fingers of the typist, the seamstress, the potter, the painter, the violinist, the mechanic, the builder; the list could be endless. The hand allows the creative to be expressive; it can do so much good or evil. The hand can be firm, as a parent's spank or firm grasp; it can be gentle, stroking the hair or face of a child or lover."
In addition, the human hand gives visible expression to so many of our beliefs, feelings, and intentions. When I taught homiletics, one of the most difficult tasks was getting young preachers to use their hands properly. Either from embarrassment or fear, they would keep them stuffed in their pockets, hidden from sight behind their backs, or nervously twiddle them in a variety of annoying ways.
Our hands speak loudly. When angry, we clinch our fists, threatening harm to others. When guilty, we hide our hands or hold incriminating evidence from view. When uneasy, we sit on them to obscure our inner selves. When worried, we wring them. When afraid, we use them to cover our face or hold tightly to someone for protection. When desperate or frustrated, we throw them wildly in the air, perhaps also in resignation or dismay. When confused, we extend them in bewilderment, as if asking for advice and direction. When hospitable, we use them to warmly receive those in our presence. When suspicious, we use them to keep someone at bay, or perhaps point an accusing finger in their direction.
Does it not seem wholly appropriate, therefore, to raise them to God when we seek him in prayer or celebrate him with praise? So again, why do I worship with hands raised?
Because like one who surrenders to a higher authority, I yield to God's will and ways and submit to his guidance and power and purpose in my life. It is my way of saying, "God, I am yours to do with as you please."
Because like one who expresses utter vulnerability, I say to the Lord: "I have nothing to hide. I come to you open handed, concealing nothing. My life is yours to search and sanctify. I'm holding nothing back. My heart, soul, spirit, body and will are an open book to you."
Because like one who needs help, I confess my utter dependency on God for everything. I cry out: "O God, I entrust my life to you. If you don't take hold and uplift me, I will surely sink into the abyss of sin and death. I rely on your strength alone. Preserve me. Sustain me. Deliver me."
Because like one who happily and expectantly receives a gift from another, I declare to the Lord: "Father, I gratefully embrace all you want to give. I'm a spiritual beggar. I have nothing to offer other than my need of all that you are for me in Jesus. So glorify yourself by satisfying me wholly with you alone."
Because like one who aspires to direct attention away from self to the Savior, I say: "O God, yours is the glory; yours is the power; yours is the majesty alone!"
Because as the beloved of God, I say tenderly and intimately to the Lover of my soul: "Abba, hold me. Protect me. Reveal your heart to me. I am yours! You are mine! Draw near and enable me to know and feel the affection in your heart for this one sinful soul."
For those many years when I kept my hands rigidly at my side or safely tucked away in the pockets of my pants, I knew that none would take notice of my praise of God or my prayers of desperation. No one would dare mistake me for a fanatic! I felt in control, dignified, sophisticated, and above all else, safe. These matter no more to me.
Please understand: these are not words of condemnation but confession. I know no one's heart but my own. I judge no one's motives but mine. I'm not telling you how to worship, but simply sharing how I do and why. I'm at that point in life where I honestly couldn't care less what the immovable evangelical is thinking or the crazy charismatic is feeling. What matters to me is that God have my all: my mind, will, feet, eyes, ears, tongue, heart, affections, and yes, my hands.
No, you need not raise your hands to worship God. But why wouldn't you want to?
When Mercy Scrubs Clean the Soul (Ps. 51) Part Two
Jul 12, 2007Countless Christians feel spiritually paralyzed by the lingering stain of sin. Neither therapy nor religious formulas, not good intentions or good deeds, can erase the vivid memory of their transgression(s) or bring cleansing to the defiling sense of guilt. The oppressive weight of their failure(s) is virtually suffocating.
Thank God for Psalm 51! It is a refreshing and heart-warming reminder of the hope of forgiveness. But it's even more than that. David not only prays for pardon from past sin but also for the power to walk in future purity.
He begins with an impassioned plea for ceremonial cleansing, cast in the form of what Hebrew scholars call synonymous parallelism: "Purge me with hyssop and I shall be clean; wash me and I shall be whiter than snow" (v. 7). David's choice of words is instructive. "Hyssop", an aromatic herb with a straight stalk and a bushy head (it looked a lot like broccoli), was dipped in the blood of the sacrifice and then sprinkled seven times on the person who was defiled (cf. Lev. 14:1-9; Num. 19). The word translated "purge" might more literally be rendered, "de-sin" me! Only then will David be "clean" and "whiter than snow". Can this actually happen for sinners like you and me?
But David longs for more. He asks that God would enable him to "hear joy and gladness" (v. 8a; cf. Isa. 35:10; 51:11). David employs a common figure of speech called metonomy of effect for cause, according to which he means: "Make me to experience the joy and gladness that come from hearing the announcement of forgiveness." He may even have in mind a priestly or prophetic oracle in which another loudly declares that his sins are forgiven (cf. 2 Sam. 12:13; Ps. 143:7-8).
Sin can be as spiritually devastating and painful to the soul as broken bones are to the body, thus his cry: "Let the bones that you have broken rejoice" (v. 8b). David's desire is that his entire being, body, soul, and spirit might once again revel and rejoice in the blessedness of communion with God.
Once more he prays: "Hide your face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities" (v. 9). Don't look any longer on my failures! Let not your eyes gaze on my wickedness! Blot it from view, erase it from memory (cf. Ps. 103:12; Isa. 27:9; Jer. 1:20; 18:23; Micah 7:19; Zech. 3:4,9)!
With verses 10-12 David's prayer gets even more specific. He petitions the Lord for spiritual power (v. 10), spiritual presence (v. 11), and spiritual pleasure (v. 12).
Simply asking for pardon isn't enough. One must also have the power by which not to commit the same sin again. Dalglish explains:
"The prayer for forgiveness is complete, but pardon, boon though it be, cannot suffice. Its reference is to the past and to excision of iniquity erstwhile accumulated. But what of the future? Unless something different, something new, is done within the personal life of the psalmist, the future will but repeat the past. The forgiveness of iniquity may grant to the suppliant a clean record, but it is the perpetuation of that purity that deeply troubles the psalmist. This problem forms the burden of the prayer for renewal" (147)
No mere "makeover" will do, no matter how "extreme"! David refuses to settle for a glossing over his faults, and pleads for a replacement of the old with the new. A "clean heart" (v. 10a) and a "right spirit" (v. 10b; or steadfast, firm, reliable spirit), his way of describing the inner core and center of his life, are essential for a life of holiness.
David can't bear the thought of the loss of intimacy of fellowship and its attendant joys, and thus prays that he not be cast from God's "presence" (see Ps. 16:11; 21:6; 73:27-28) or suffer the loss of God's Spirit (v. 11).
What does David mean when he prays that God would not take his Spirit from him? Does he envision the possible loss of his salvation? Does he envision the withdrawal of divine grace? No.
Aside from the saving activity of the Holy Spirit in the OT and the empowering ministry by which believers are sanctified and enabled to live holy lives, the Holy Spirit was poured out on select individuals to equip them to perform important tasks in the covenant community of Israel. For example:
(1) Craftsmen who worked on the tabernacle/temple (Exod. 31:1-6)
(2) Civil administrators (such as Moses and the 70 elders in Num. 11:16-17,25-26)
(3) Military commanders (such as Joshua; Num. 27:18)
(4) Judges (appointed and empowered to rule over Israel as in Judges 3:10; 6:34)
(5) Samson (Judges 14:5-6,19; 15:14; 16:20)
(6) Prophets (1 Chron. 12:18; Micah 3:8)
(7) Kings over Israel (Saul in 1 Sam. 10:1,6,10; 16:14; and David in 1 Sam. 16:12-13)
Thus there was a ministry of the Holy Spirit in the OT, unrelated to personal salvation or character, designed solely to empower, enable and equip someone for a task to which God had appointed him/her. Such, I believe, is what David has in mind in Ps. 51:11. His prayer is that God would not withdraw the enabling anointing of the Spirit that empowers and equips him to lead Israel as King. Indeed, he may well have had in mind that disturbing scene where "the Spirit of the Lord departed from Saul" (1 Sam. 16:14) and prays that such would never befall him.
God's power, God's presence, and yes, even God's pleasure is at the heart of David's prayer: "Restore to me the joy of your salvation" (v. 12a)! Sin suppressed is delight destroyed. David was saved, but his soul had soured. He longs once again for the enjoyment of God that comes with intimacy.
David concludes with a vow of commitment in vv. 13-19.
It is possible for the fallen to be forgiven and used of God in ministry to others. David anticipates that after his restoration he will again "teach transgressors [like himself] your ways" (v. 13). David anticipates once again singing "aloud" of the "righteousness" of God (v. 14b). With pardon and power comes the opportunity to once more "declare" God's "praise" aloud (v. 15).
Note also the relationship between testimony and praise in vv. 13-15. "When God answers our prayers, we respond by telling him how great he is; but we do so in public, and this is of the essence of the matter" (Goldingay, 168). Often guilt acts like glue: it seals shut the mouth of praise. It's as if David says, "My conscience has shamed me into silence. Right now my lips are sealed because of my sin. Forgive me and open my mouth and I will surrender my voice to you!"
People have often misunderstood the concluding verses of Psalm 51 (particularly vv. 16-17), thinking that God has rejected his own appointed sacrifices. But in the OT, "not that, but this," is merely an emphatic way of saying "not that, without this" (cf. 1 Sam. 15:22; Hosea 6:6). David is simply telling us that what matters most to God is the inner spiritual reality of a truly contrite and broken heart. Without it, sacrifices are worthless. With it, they are a sweet-smelling aroma to God (see vv. 18-19).
Gordon MacDonald tells the story of how as a child he once knocked over a lamp, cracking the ceramic shaft on one side. He quickly placed it back on the table, turning the lamp so the crack was not visible. He lived in fear each day that his misdeed would be discovered. "The longer the confrontation was delayed," he writes, "the worse the consequences promised to be in my mind." When the day finally arrived, his mother asked him, "Did you do this?" He confessed. What happened next is instructive for us all:
"But Mother never said a word. She took it to the kitchen, glued the pieces so that they once more fit tightly together, and within a few hours returned the lamp to the table. The crack was always there, but the lamp was rebuilt. And it served its purpose for years. Broken worlds may always have cracks to remind us of the past; that's reality. But sometimes the grace of God is like the glue my mother used on her lamp. The bonded edges can become stronger than the original surface" (Rebuilding Your Broken World, xviii).
Some of you have cracked lamps in your past and live in constant fear, devoid of joy, paralyzed in life, relationships, and ministry. You wonder whether you will ever again experience the joy of intimacy with God, much less a fruitful ministry to others.
But God is in the business of rebuilding cracked lives and shattered dreams. His "steadfast love" (v. 1a) is a soul-cleansing power, his "abundant mercy" (v. 1b) a force for restoring long lost hope. All he asks of you is a "broken spirit" and a "contrite heart" (v. 17a). These, says David, he will "not despise" (v. 17b).
Sam
When Mercy Scrubs Clean the Soul (Ps. 51) Part One
Jul 11, 2007This psalm has a special message for several groups of people.
First, Psalm 51 is for those who have never come to grips with the horror of human sin and the magnitude of divine grace. Often grace becomes meaningless, and certainly less than "amazing", because we lose sight of the depths of our depravity. David helps us on both counts by describing in graphic detail the reality of his sin and the breath-taking glory of forgiving grace.
Second, this psalm is for those who think some people are too high or too holy to fall. Let us never forget that this psalm describes the experience of David, King of Israel, the "man after God's own heart" (1 Sam. 13:14)!
Third, this psalm is also for those who think that once you have fallen, you can never get back up again. It is for those who think it's possible to fall beyond the reach of God's grace and forgiveness or that there is a quantifiable limit to divine mercy. But no one is so holy that he/she can't fall, or so fallen that he/she can't be forgiven.
Fourth, Psalm 51 is for those who think that if you have fallen and have actually gotten back up, perhaps even forgiven, you are still useless from that point on both to God and the church. David's experience will prove otherwise.
The historical setting for this psalm is stated in the superscription: "To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David, when Nathan the prophet went to him, after he had gone in to Bathsheba" (see 2 Sam. 11:1-18,26-27; 12:1-18). None of us likes to have our struggles and problems broadcast publicly, much less our sins of the flesh. Yet here we are told that this psalm was written "to the choirmaster"! How would you like for your worst sins to be projected on the screen at church and set to music for the corporate worship of God's people?
This psalm is a remarkable, and in many ways unparalleled, description of the nature of conviction, confession, and forgiveness. But at the same time we celebrate, with David, the joy of having one's sins washed clean, we dare not forget that his transgressions yielded significant and far-reaching consequences: (1) his denunciation by Nathan and the public shame it brought (2 Sam. 12:1-14); (2) the death of David's son (12:15-23); (3) trouble with Amnon: he raped Tamar, Absalom's sister (13:1-22); (4) the rebellion of Absalom (13:23-18:33); (5) trouble with affairs of state (e.g., the revolt of Sheba in 19:41-20:26). The lesson is that whereas sin is certainly personal, in many cases it is anything but private!
On what basis does David ask for acquittal (vv. 1-2)? Does he appeal to his track record as King over Israel? Does he remind God of how many psalms he has written and how much of a blessing they've been to God's children? Does he cite his faithful service or marshal forth a long list of character witnesses? Not in the least.
He doesn't expect to be forgiven based on his sincerity or spiritual intensity or deep pain for having sinned or fervor of heart or promise not to sin again or his depth of determination to somehow "make it up" to God. That's not to say sincerity and zeal and conviction aren't important. But David's appeal is based on what he knows of God's mercy and compassion and steadfast love.
Note the three words David uses in vv. 1-2 to describe his sin. If nothing else, it indicates on his part an acknowledgment that it is sin, and not just some trivial mistake. He calls it a "transgression" (a willful, self-assertive defiance of God), an "iniquity" (a deviation from the right path), and a "sin" (a missing of the divine mark).
Equally vivid are the three words he uses in his plea for forgiveness. He asks God to "blot out" his transgressions, to erase it from the record (Ex. 32:32; Numbers 5:23) or wipe it away (2 Kings 21:13; Is. 44:22).
He beseeches the Lord to "wash" him from his sin (vv. 2,7b). This word was often used of a woman first saturating a garment with lye soap and then treading it under foot on a rock, beating and pummeling it as the rushing waters poured over it. One can almost hear David, tearfully praying: "Gracious Lord, do that to my spirit! My sin is like a deep-dyed stain that has soiled the fabric of my soul, and no ordinary soap or detergent, far less any good works I might perform, can remove it. My transgressions are like ground-in dirt. Lord, scrub me clean by your mercy and grace!" Finally, the word "cleanse" was one used for ceremonial purification in the OT.
When David turns, in vv. 3-4, to confess the magnitude of his sin, his language is no less graphic. Edward Dalglish writes:
"The sin is not vaguely expressed and in a neutral context but intensely personal - MINE - and is so described five successive times in the first three verses. True penitence is not a dead knowledge of sin committed, but a vivid, ever-present consciousness of it. Thus poignantly affected by this fixation of sin and dominated by a feeling of complete submission, the psalmist opens the hidden world of his soul, exposing his guilt-stricken conscience" (Psalm Fifty-One in the light of ancient near Eastern patternism [Brill, 1962] 104).
David makes no excuses, offers no rationalizations, and refuses to shift blame. He doesn't say, "Well, now wait a minute God. Yes, I sinned. But it takes two to tango. What about Bathsheba's complicity in all this? She's so beautiful and seductive. And my wife wasn't meeting my needs. Besides, the pressures of being King over your people are enormous. Given what I faced on a daily basis, I'd expect you to cut me a little slack." No!
There's no insanity plea or appeal to diminished capacity. Do you recall the infamous "Twinkie Defense" used by Dan White when he killed San Francisco Mayor George Moscone and supervisor Harvey Milk in 1985? He pleaded innocent based on his alleged "diminished capacity" brought on by certain biochemical reactions to junk food! I'm innocent, Your Honor. I overdosed on Twinkies!" None of that here.
My sin, he says, "is ever before me" (v. 3b). It is no intermittent flash but a perpetual obsession, a sight from which I can never turn away. It is, as it were, seared on the inside of my eye-lids: I see it all the time. Worse still, it is a sin ultimately against God alone (v. 4a).
But how can it be against God "only" if he committed adultery with Bathsheba, conspired to kill her husband Uriah, disgraced his own family, and betrayed the trust of the nation Israel? Perhaps David would argue that whereas one commits crimes against people, one sins only against God. More likely still, "face to face with God, he sees nothing else, no one else, can think of nothing else, but His presence forgotten, His holiness outraged, His love scorned" (Perowne, 416). David is so broken that he has treated God with such disregard that he is blinded to all other aspects or objects of his behavior.
David's confession is not simply to "get things off his chest", as if confession were merely a therapeutic release of sorts. His confession is designed to tell everyone that God was in the right all along, that God's judgment was true, just, and that the Almighty is blameless (v. 4b).
How long has David had this problem with sin? Did it start with puberty? Was he turned to the "dark side" by some childhood or teen-aged trauma? "The problem," says David, "isn't so much that I sin. The problem is that I'm sinful, and always have been. These deeds of the flesh are symptomatic of a much deeper problem. The fact is, ‘I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me' (v. 5). My transgressions are not of recent vintage. This was no freak, one-off event. I've been a sinner from my mother's womb!"
Thus David confesses his hereditary sin (v. 5) as the root cause of his actual sin (v. 4), but makes no effort to exculpate himself on that basis. In explaining his sinfulness by reference to the natural propagation of the species, David moves beyond his birth (v. 5a) to the very genesis of his being in the womb of his mother, indeed, to the very moment of conception (v. 5b). However, "David is not trying to accuse his mother in order to excuse himself!" (Henri Blocher, Original Sin [Eerdmans, 1997], 28). The focus of the entire psalm is the personal accountability of David. No one is to blame but he alone. His point is simply that "his very being is shot through and through with the tendencies that produced the fruits of adultery and murder. As far back as he can go, he sees his life as sinful" (Blocher, 28).
David's intent isn't to impugn the sex act itself, but rather to confess the native corruption of that which is its product. Dalglish contends that the words "in sin" "ought not to be conceived as qualifying the coitus which resulted in the conception of the psalmist's being. It should properly be taken either to describe the status of the generating mother or else be referred generally to the embryological development resulting in transplanting the predicate of sinfulness to the child. It would be utterly opposed to the thought of the Old Testament [cf. Gen. 1:28; 9:1,7; Ps. 127:3,5; Gen. 29:31; 30:22,33; Ruth 4:13; Ps. 139:13; Job 10:8ff.] to imagine that conception or parturition was sinful" (121-22).
In other words, David's problem (yours and mine too!) isn't that we commit individual acts of sin. The problem is that we have a constitutional propensity to sin. What we need most isn't a new lifestyle, but new life! Not new habits, but a new heart! And what hope is there for this? To be continued . . .