It Makes Sense That Life Makes No Sense

“How long shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily? How long will my enemy be exalted over me?” (Psalm 13:2).

The tag line to this psalm reads, “A Psalm of David,” but it might just as easily have read, “A Psalm of Dewey.”

I rather suspect that you could just as readily attach your name to this psalm as David or me. There is something satisfyingly common about the human experience. Life tends to be the great equalizer. We just aren’t that different from one another.

I point this out because you might find yourself tempted to think, “David was a king. I am not a king. David lived some three thousand years ago, a full millennium BC – before Christ was even born. I am living now, at the front end of the twenty-first century AD. How can I possibly relate to David? What could David possibly say to me? Turns out that he has a lot to say. And we should listen.

The trajectory of David’s troubled and tortured life circumscribes an arc that takes him from the humble beginnings of a shepherd boy to the dizzying heights of leading God’s people and crowing Jerusalem as God’s Holy City, to the downward spiral of a murderous adulterer, to a man hated and hunted by an assortment of enemies including one of his sons. Yes, it’s true that many of David’s problems were self-inflicted, the results of multiple foolish choices that “a man after God’s own heart” should have known better than to make.

Melancholy in temperament and musical in talent, David’s prodigious output of songs formed the nucleus of ancient Israel’s Psalter or hymnal. Read through his psalms and you will find riding an emotional rollercoaster with David at the helm as he zigzags through the whole spectrum of human emotions, questions, and doubts. Psalm 13 is but one example, on with which most everyone of us can readily identify.

As you listen to the agony of his soul as it pours out of David’s pen, ask yourself if you have ever felt like this. I know that I have. You might perhaps be feeling some of these emotions and asking some of these questions even today.

David asks, “O Lord, how long will you forget me? Forever?” Be honest now. Don’t you sometimes wonder if God has forgotten you? I know I have. I seek Him but do not sense Him. I talk to Him, but hear no answer. I pray to Him, yet nothing changes. I am haunted by the fear that (a) the skeptics might be right after all when they say there is no God, or (b) if there is a God, He is so busy running this gigantic Universe of ours that He couldn’t possibly have the time to pay attention to me.

David continues, “How long will you look the other way?” Reading between the lines, it’s not a stretch to suggest that David is wrestling with such questions as, Is God purposely ignoring me? Perhaps He is mad at me or disappointed in me and turns His head away in anger. If He really loves me, He wouldn’t let this happen to me. It’s not fair. It’s not my fault. Sound familiar? It sure does to me.

“How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul, with sorrow in my heart every day?” Here is the heart of the matter. Anguish of soul and unceasing sorrow. Today, most any Primary Care Physician would prescribe for David the latest greatest antidepressant medication coupled with some serious long-term therapy. David sounds downright suicidal. Given his many challenges, we can understand why. Only those of us who have walked a similar dark path can begin to relate to the hopeless despair that drowned David’s soul. Keep in mind, these anguished cries are coming from a man so loved by God that the very first verse of the New Testament identifies God’s only begotten Son as “Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.” Which begs the question, Why should my life be any different than David’s?

“How long will my enemy have the upper hand?” This, for me, is the crux of the issue. Why do the evil doers who ruined some aspect of my life seem to prosper while I am left to suffer?

“Turn and answer me, O Lord my God! Restore the sparkle to my eyes, or I will die. Don’t let my enemies gloat, saying, ‘We have defeated him!’ Don’t let them rejoice at my downfall.” Having gone through this very thing – watching and listening as those who purposely hurt me now gloat over what they have done – I can tell you that there is nothing more painful in all the world to endure.

Ah. But they didn’t get the last word. They never do. Knowing this, David made a choice. So have I. Have you? The choice is this: But I trust in your unfailing love. I will rejoice because you have rescued me. I will sing to the Lord because he is good to me.”

No doubt about it. Just when David’s life seem to be spinning hopelessly out of control – his enemies winning while he was losing – David did something about it. He made a choice – to trust, to rejoice, and to sing. So can we. Because once the dust settles and the situation comes to its final conclusion, we will know once again that “He is good to me.”

All That Glitters is Not Gold!

“For I was envious of the boastful, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked” (Psalm 73:3).

Asaph had it all. And he nearly threw it all away.

Asaph is anything but a household name. But he boasted quite an impressive résumé: as David’s handpicked choir director, first in the Tabernacle and eventually in the Temple; as a prolific songwriter (twelve of his psalms are included in the Old Testament Psalter); as a prophet; and as a good role model (evidenced by the fact Asaph’s sons followed in their father’s footsteps and became Temple choir singers).

Yet, like so many of us, Asaph seemed blind to all that he did have and focused on what he did not have.

Somewhere along his spiritual journey, Asaph fell prey to a sickness of the soul that infects many people of faith. At some point in his ministry, for reasons clearly spelled out in Psalm 73, Asaph became jealous of wicked people – a hideously dark disease that, if the truth be told, has affected me as well.

Has it ever affected you? Let’s find out. Check out Asaph’s astonishing admission to see if you can relate. Asaph honestly concluded his own spiritual assessment by admitting, “I almost lost my footing. My feet were slipping, and I was almost gone.” Give him credit; he knew that he was in deep spiritual decline. But why? What threw him into such a spiritually treacherous tailspin? Keep reading.

“For I envied the proud when I saw them prosper despite their wickedness.” There it is. The heart of the matter. Asaph compared his life of strict spiritual discipline to the wanton pleasures that the unspiritual, undisciplined wicked enjoy. And this side-by-side comparison led to only one conclusion: Asaph got the short end of life’s stick.

He continued, “(The wicked) seem to live such painless lives; their bodies are so healthy and strong. They don’t have troubles like other people; they’re not plagued with problems like everyone else. They wear pride like a jeweled necklace and clothe themselves with cruelty. These fat cats have everything their hearts could ever wish for! They scoff and speak only evil; in their pride they seek to crush others. They boast against the very heavens, and their words strut throughout the earth…Look at these wicked people – enjoying a life of ease while their riches multiply.”

OK, so I’ll grant that unlike “the wicked,” Asaph’s life wasn’t the bed of roses he might have hoped for. He lamented (a polite word for whined), “Did I keep my heart pure for nothing? Did I keep myself innocent for no reason? I get nothing but trouble all day long; every morning brings me pain.” Sound like anyone you know?

Fact is, life is tough. Very tough. Tough for the righteous and tough for the wicked, no matter how hardy they might party in order to dull their pain with their pursuit of pleasure. But in the end it’s all just a mirage. Asaph’s view of “the wicked” was skewed from the start, something he thankfully came to realize before it was too late. Upon sober reflection, Asaph arrived at four insightful conclusions:

(1) Had Asaph given in to his envy of the wicked, and flushed his faith in the process, he would have let a lot of people down. People were watching him, just like people are watching us. That may not be fair, but that’s the deal. If we crash and burn, we don’t go down alone. We take a lot of people with us – people who trust us, look up to us, respect us. Especially those closest to us. That was a price Asaph was not willing to pay, no matter how much personal pleasure he might have gotten as a part of that bargain.

(2) Payday will come some day. Sure, “the wicked” might be having the time of their lives now, for a little while. But the “passing pleasures of sin” do pass. And that’s the point. And when they do, the wicked are left holding a handful of nothing, except for their sordid memories and the crushing consequences of their foolish choices.

(3) The wicked live like beasts, governed only by their carnal cravings and animal appetites. Their glands become their gods; their selfish desires their deities. Gone is their dignity, sacrificed on the altars of their depravity. Lost is their self-respect, forfeited by their disrespect of the God who created them.

(4) Asaph came close, alarmingly close, to failing the one, the only one who never would and never could fail him. No amount of perverted pleasure was worth the indignity of letting down his God who would never would and never could let him down.

No doubt about it. As Asaph so correctly concluded, “It is good for me to draw near to God.” Know what? It is good for us to do the same.

I’VE READ THE LAST CHAPTER. GUESS WHAT? WE WIN!

“’Surely I am coming quickly.’ Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus!” (Revelation 22:20).

You ought to hear my melancholy friend, a guy who could definitely use a blast of high-octane laughing gas to lift his constantly sagging spirits.

Understand that my friend loves Jesus and believes the Bible. But every time he reads in the news that someone mocks Christianity, or takes a cheap shot at Jesus, or ridicules people of faith, or glamorizes an ungodly lifestyle, my friend is quick to respond, “What do you expect? We lose!”

I mean, look, I understand that there are people who hate God, and who consequently hate us. They will stop at nothing to discourage and defeat us. Sometimes they are successful. Who of us doesn’t know of someone who used to be a faithful follower of Jesus who, for whatever reason, has denied God’s truth and walked away from Jesus? Add to that the unsettling reality that we are fighting a relentless spiritual foe who is determined to defeat and devour us. Other than that, life down here is just peachy, thank you very much!

Nevertheless, spiritual battles and my friend’s sagging spirits notwithstanding, fact is, “We win!”

Don’t believe me? Not too sure? Do I sound too much like a pie-in-the-sky-by-and-by type of guy to you? Then don’t take my word for it. Take God’s word for it. This is what God prompted the Apostle Paul to write to a group of young-in-their-faith believers who were suffering a ton for their new-found faith. As you read it, you tell me if this sounds like a “We lose” scenario to you.

Dear brothers and sisters, we can’t help but thank God for you, because your faith is flourishing and your love for one another is growing. We proudly tell God’s other churches about your endurance and faithfulness in all the persecutions and hardships you are suffering. And God will use this persecution to show his justice and to make you worthy of his Kingdom, for which you are suffering. In his justice he will pay back those who persecute you.

Did you read that second to last sentence? God will actually use our trials and tribulations to show His justice to the world, and to make us worthy of His Kingdom. That surely doesn’t sound like “We lose” to me!

But wait! It gets even better.

And God will provide rest for you who are being persecuted and also for us when the Lord Jesus appears from heaven. He will come with his mighty angels, in flaming fire, bringing judgment on those who don’t know God and on those who refuse to obey the Good News of our Lord Jesus. They will be punished with eternal destruction, forever separated from the Lord and from his glorious power. When he comes on that day, he will receive glory from his holy people – praise from all who believe. And this includes you, for you believed what we told you about him.

When Jesus finally appears, these troubling times will be vanquished and the spiritual battles won, forever replaced by the eternal ecstasy of living with our Lord forever and ever. Does that sound like “We lose” to you?

Just ask Jude if we lose. What a compelling contrast he set up in his diminutive letter of only 25 verses. Sometimes less is indeed more. That is certainly true of Jude.

First comes the kind of stuff that sent my sullen friend sinking in his spirit.

I have to write insisting – begging! – that you fight with everything you have in you for this faith entrusted to us as a gift to guard and cherish. What has happened is that some people have infiltrated our ranks (our Scriptures warned us this would happen), who beneath their pious skin are shameless scoundrels. Their design is to replace the sheer grace of our God with sheer license—which means doing away with Jesus Christ.

But then comes the “We win!” kind of stuff that sends my spirit soaring.

Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling, and to present you faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy, to God our Savior, Who alone is wise, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and forever. Amen.

Just ask the Apostle John if we lose. Because of the unjust and undeserved suffering in his life, John could have easily and understandably allowed himself to be swallowed by hopeless despair. He could have encouraged himself to be eaten up inside by a rotting root of bitterness towards those who wrongly exiled him to a godforsaken island out in the middle of the Aegean Sea. He could easily have died a broken and angry old man, forced at ninety years of age to endure the torments of hard time enforced by the Roman lash.

Instead, John choose to look beyond his sufferings today and to embrace the certain hope of that day when he would see his beloved Jesus once again. And so as John finished writing the last verse of the last chapter of the last book of the Bible, he did so by quoting Jesus’ spirit-lifting promise, “Surely I am coming quickly.”

To which John added his own hope-filled prayer, “Even so, come, Lord Jesus!”

No doubt about it. John’s Scripture-concluding comments don’t sound like “We lose” to me. Not by a long shot. To my melancholy friend, and to you I say, “Read the last chapter. WE WIN!!!”

BITTER OR BETTER? THAT CHOICE IS OURS.

“Looking carefully lest anyone fall short of the grace of God; lest any root of bitterness springing up cause trouble, and by this many become defiled” (Hebrews 12:15).

For years I hated my dad.

I can assure you that I get no joy out of that sad-but-true confession. It’s simply a fact of my life’s journey, one from which I thankfully recovered.

While I won’t trouble you with the particulars of my conflicts with my dad, let’s just say that I learned some bitter lessons through that ordeal. The single most important of which is this: When God “put me together,” He did not hardwire into the complex web of my DNA structure the capacity to harbor hate. He never intended for me to become, let alone remain, bitter.

The same can be said of you.

Unresolved bitterness is a quicksand of the soul. An unwelcomed interloper. An uninvited intruder. A bandit bent on robbing us of the very essence of life itself. By definition, bitter people are not happy people. They tend to be angry, resentful, critical, often spiteful, cantankerous individuals who darken every room they enter, dampen everyone’s mood with whom they interact, and deaden every conversation in which they engage. They’re just not pleasant people. Not the kind of individuals you’d like to hang out with. In the words of the writer to the Hebrews, bitter people “defile many.”

I should know. For years, I was one of them. The poisons of my bitterness flowed through my veins. The toxins of my pent-up anger repelled everyone who dared to cross my path, leaving me to languish in the loneliness that I myself created.

I am well aware that there are many complex contributing factors to what has become a nationwide epidemic of clinical depression. There is no “one-size-fits-all” cure because there is no one cause. But given my own dance with depression, I cannot help but wonder how much of the depression diagnosed today is the direct result of unresolved bitterness. I can tell you that in my case, much of my emotional meltdown was caused precisely because of the energy-demands of my prolonged hatred. Nothing will drain our emotional reserves faster than inappropriate and misappropriated anger.

Thankfully I learned that there is a better way.

Make no mistake about it. Bitterness is a choice. A choice that we do not have to make.

Consider the basics. As a function of our fallenness, it’s human nature to hate. That has been true since the beginning of the biblical narrative. In Genesis 3, Adam rebelled against God, plunging the human race into a sorry state of sin. One short chapter later, in Genesis 4, Adam’s angry son Cain killed his brother Abel. “Then the LORD said to Cain, ‘Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast?...Sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it.’” Tragically, rather than Cain mastering his sinful anger, his sinful anger mastered him. You know the rest of the story.

From that day to this, our natural, normal inclination is to react to those who wrong us with anger. When we allow our anger to fester, it invariably morphs into bitterness. And bitterness, when left unchecked, will destroy us.

Exactly like a metastasizing cancer gradually destroys our bodies, over time bitterness eats away at our souls. This is precisely the reason that at the point where we are wronged, God provides an instant antidote to our human tendency toward bitterness – “the grace of God” – the desire and the power to make the right choice (to forgive the wrongdoer) rather than the wrong choice (to become bitter). He then begs us to make absolutely sure “that no poisonous root of bitterness grows up to trouble you, corrupting many.” The stakes are that high.

As Paul wrote his beloved church in Ephesus, “Get rid of all bitterness…Instead, be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you.” Easy for Paul to say, until you realize that Paul wrote those words from a Roman dungeon. But because Paul chose God’s grace over anger, forgiveness over bitterness, Paul was eventually able to triumphantly declare, “My dear friends, I want you to know that what has happened to me has helped to spread the good news. The Roman guards and all the others know that I am here in jail because I serve Christ.”

Forgiveness always wins. Bitterness always loses.

No doubt about it. Our hurtful circumstances will either make us bitter or better. That is a choice that we alone can make. That is a choice that we alone must make.

THE “APPLE OF GOD’S EYE” HAS A SECURE AND BRIGHT FUTURE; WHICH ONLY GOES TO PROVE THAT WE DO TOO.

“And so all Israel will be saved” (Romans 11:26).

The question came up over and over again at the Junior High/Middle School camp at which I just spoke: “How do you know there is a God?” As if the wonders of creation are not enough to convince us.

My stock answer consists of but one word: Israel. Apart from the existence of God, there is no other logical explanation for the birth of the modern Jewish State. None.

To see what I mean, let’s start back at the beginning. One of the most history-defining statements in all of the Bible pops up right at the start of Scripture. As early as Genesis 12 we read, “Now the LORD had said to Abram: ‘Get out of your country, from your family and from your father’s house, to a land that I will show you. I will make you a great nation; I will bless you and make your name great; and you shall be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and I will curse him who curses you; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.’” Those words constitute what has come appropriately to be called the Abrahamic Covenant, a sacred and solemn promise that God made to Abraham and to his descendants through Isaac and Jacob ; a divine pledge, a heavenly guarantee between God and “the apple of His eye” – our friends, the Jewish people – and the Jewish State, Israel.

Indeed, to say that God has always had a special place in His rather sizeable heart for Israel would be the height of understatement. That being said, the relationship between God and His chosen people has been a rocky one to say the least. It’s not mere coincidence that the name Israel means to wrestle with, struggle with, or fight with God. Through the ebb and flow of the history of the Jewish people, God has at times blessed them, and at other times disciplined them – severely so. But He has never abandoned them; He never will.

You might remember the time when Jesus wept over the city of Jerusalem as He looked through the long lens of prophecy and viewed a heart-rending scene: “Now as (Jesus) drew near, He saw the city and wept over it, saying, ‘If you had known, even you, especially in this your day, the things that make for your peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. For days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment around you, surround you and close you in on every side, and level you, and your children within you, to the ground; and they will not leave in you one stone upon another, because you did not know the time of your visitation.’” The fulfillment of that prophecy took place in AD 70 when the Romans leveled the Temple and burned the city. The final embers of the Jewish revolt against the Romans were snuffed out three years later when nearly a thousand Jews took their own lives high atop the hilltop fortress called Masada rather than submit to the brutalities of the Romans. With the last breath of the last Jew, the Jewish state ceased to exist.

Until the unthinkable happened. Throughout the turbulent history of people on this troubled planet, empires have been born only eventually to die. Nations have come and gone. Case in point: Even the mighty, invincible, unbeatable Roman Empire is today history (pun intended). Fact is, no civilization, once obliterated from the map, ever rises out of the ashes of its annihilation to live again. None, that is, save Israel.

On Friday, May 14, 1948, an event of biblical significance took place in a nondescript building in the heart of Tel Aviv. On that momentous afternoon it was as if the earth stopped spinning and the angels in Heaven held their breath as David Ben Gurion proclaimed the once-unimaginable words: “Accordingly we, the members of the National Council representing the Jewish people in Palestine and the World Zionist Movement, are met together in solemn assembly today, the day of termination of the British Mandate for Palestine; and by virtue of the natural and historic right of the Jewish People and of the Resolution of the General Assembly of the United Nations. We hereby proclaim the establishment of the Jewish State in Palestine, to be call Medinath Yisrael (The State of Israel).” With that statement, a modern miracle was realized; after nearly 2000 years the Jewish State had been reborn.

Today, much of the Jewish population of Israel, and indeed of the world, are secular. Many Jews readily admit that they do not worship the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. And they certainly do not acknowledge Jesus as their Messiah. At least not yet. One day the final chapter of Israel’s storied history will soon be written. And her last chapter will be her brightest. For one day, sooner rather than later I think, “all of Israel will be saved.”

No doubt about it: Pull out a map, find the Middle East, and set your gaze upon that remarkable word, Israel. That’s all you need to know to know that God is alive and well and keeps His promises – to Israel and to us.

Just when we think, “I can’t take it anymore,” we won’t have to.

“No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bear it” (1 Corinthians 10:13).

Interesting word, “temptation.” It’s not nearly as specific as you might think.

Taken on face value, 1 Corinthians 10:31 offers us a precious-enough promise, God’s assurance that we will never be so overwhelmed with a temptation that we will have no choice but to succumb to its seductions. He wants us to know that whenever or wherever we are hit between the eyes with an especially enticing opportunity to indulge the desires of our flesh, God will always “provide (us) a way out” so that we can stand up against it.

Good to know.

But wait! It gets even better. The word “temptation” is a much broader term that it might appear at first blush. Paul carefully crafted this verse by intentionally using a word in the original that can also properly be translated “test.” If you will permit a fuller rendering of this verse – an expanded paraphrase, if you will – it could justifiably be rendered as follows: I’ve got great news for you. News that should brighten your future. God gives you His promise that you will never be tempted nor tested in any way that is unusual or unique. You are not alone. You will never be called upon to face any situation in life, no matter how dire or overwhelming it might seem, that others haven’t already faced before you. We know this because God is faithful. He always does what He says He will do. And in this situation, He promises that you will never be tempted nor tested beyond your ability to handle it. No matter how alluring the temptation, no matter how difficult the test, God will always give you a way out – His grace and power to meet or beat it, so that it will not overwhelm and defeat you.

Now that is a precious promise.

But talk is cheap. What if Paul, who wrote 1 Corinthians, is just particularly good at producing platitudes – pithy little statements that sound good but are have no basis in fact?

Let’s find out. On two fronts. Temptations and tests.

It seems that Paul knew a lot about tantalizing temptations. In one of his rare moments of honest, open, and public introspection, Paul admitted that he, like us, struggled daily with his body of flesh that longed for satisfying stimulation. He admitted to the believers in Rome, “I am merely a human, and I have been sold as a slave to sin. In fact, I don't understand why I act the way I do. I don't do what I know is right. I do the things I hate… I know that my selfish desires won't let me do anything that is good. Even when I want to do right, I cannot. Instead of doing what I know is right, I do wrong… What a miserable person I am. Who will rescue me from this body that is doomed to die?”

If the story ended there, we might be justified for thinking that this poor soul needs some serious therapy. But happily, it doesn’t. Paul went on to victoriously declare this: “Thank God! Jesus Christ will rescue me.”

Just when it seemed that Paul couldn’t take it anymore, he didn’t have to. Jesus provided “a way of escape” – “a way out.” In the words of the MSG translation, “he'll always be there to help you come through it.”

So far so good, at least as far as temptations are concerned. But what about life’s pressures and problems, tests? Once again, Paul possessed enormous “street cred” as one who suffered through a variety of tests, arguably of a much greater magnitude than you or I will ever experience. Things like, “Five times the Jews gave me thirty-nine lashes with a whip. Three times the Romans beat me with a big stick, and once my enemies stoned me. I have been shipwrecked three times, and I even had to spend a night and a day in the sea. During my many travels, I have been in danger from rivers, robbers, my own people, and foreigners. My life has been in danger in cities, in deserts, at sea, and with people who only pretended to be the Lord's followers. I have worked and struggled and spent many sleepless nights. I have gone hungry and thirsty and often had nothing to eat. I have been cold from not having enough clothes to keep me warm.”

Yet, at the beginning of this very same letter, Paul triumphantly acknowledged, “Praise God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! The Father is a merciful God, who always gives us comfort. He comforts us when we are in trouble, so that we can share that same comfort with others in trouble. We share in the terrible sufferings of Christ, but also in the wonderful comfort he gives.”

No doubt about it. Just when Paul was tempted to think that he couldn’t take it anymore, he didn’t have to. Neither do we.

Lighten Up and Laugh? Or Not? (You tell me.)

Each and every day, I get all sorts of stuff making an appearance on my laptop screen. Yesterday was no exception. What was exceptional was my reaction to it.

First, the disclaimers. I pride myself (in the appropriate usage of that phrase) on being conservative in my theology, and yet not uptight nor legalistic. I’m a guy who chooses his battles. And the older I get, the more I realize that not everything is a hill to die on. So I let a lot of stuff go. I really do.

But not this time. From multiple individuals (self-proclaimed committed Christ-followers each), this one line was sent my way – meant to be funny, I know; clearly intended to bring a smile to my face and some levity to my heart.

The thing is, I didn’t find it humorous. Not in the least. Well, before I continue, let me share with you the joke, and then get your take on it. It goes like this: “My biggest fear when I meet God is that he'll sneeze and I won't know what to say...”

This is not an isolated case. I'm hearing more and more equally inappropriately careless (or legitimately humorous, depending upon your own outlook) "jokes" about God's nature, or "humor" at God's expense.

OK, be honest with me. Am I just showing my age? Has the innocence of youth left me? Am I now becoming what I promised myself and others that I would never become: a take-life-way-too-seriously, need-to-lighten-up, angry old codger (a word that, according to Webster, means “a mildly eccentric and usually elderly fellow”)?

OR… Does Exodus 20:7 mean something? As in the Contemporary English Version that reads, “Do not misuse my name. I am the LORD your God, and I will punish anyone who misuses my name.” The Message Translation renders this verse, “No using the name of God, your God, in curses or silly banter; God won’t put up with the irreverent use of his name.”

Have I become too influenced by my many dear Jewish friends who will not even pronounce God’s name, let alone write it, for fear of using His holy name irreverently?

Have we become so casual, so carefree in our attitude towards the Almighty God who by merely uttering a word flung the stars into space? Or so careless, so cavalier, and treating as common our Lord Jesus Christ who Himself twice said, “For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks” (Matthew 12:34; Luke 6:45)?

Have we now come to a place in our Christian conversation where what was once said of those who populated the decadent Roman Empire can now be said of us Christians today? “They have no fear of God at all”?

Or am I just becoming cranky in my old age? A guy who needs to stop judging these kinds of jokes and just lighten up? Am I, despite my claims to the contrary, legalistic in my defense of God’s name?

Did God Himself get a good chuckle out of the joke? Is He such a pal, such a buddy, such a cool acquaintance that I ought to be able to joke about Him like I might joke about my puppy? And am really the poorer since I don’t? Since I won’t?

Please. Tell me what you think. I really want to know.