by Joel BatesDid you know that canoeing has direct correlation to ancient warfare? I discovered this truth as I was teaching a swift-water-rescue course, but it wasn’t the connections one might expect. Rushing through a Class-4 rapid can certainly produce the exhilaration of battle, bouncing off waves, responding to wicked undercurrents with the reflexes of a swordsman, feeling instincts to lean into the brace when tipping, or having the consciousness to maintain breath control as you cascade through standing waves. But these are not the discoveries I’m talking about. I was holding my paddle over my head before a small class, teaching them a new language, the language of river paddling. It’s a bit like sign language although much simpler. Using your canoe paddle, you can communicate from far downriver, across a garish rapid, or atop the banks of a distant shore. “If you can see the paddle, you can hear it speak,” I told the students. They looked at me with confusion. I held the paddle aloft and began teaching them the simple signs that every paddler needs to know to communicate on the river. I showed them how to say, “Come this way;” and “Go to the other side of the river;” and “Stop, there’s trouble up ahead;” and even “Come over here to me.” I was enjoying the lesson when a scripture assaulted my thoughts. I’d been studying Psalm 20 for a devotional series I was putting together. It’s a short psalm packed with battle imagery. In it, God is described as a great protector in the midst of battle, a source of reinforcement against the foe. Can’t you just imagine the scene—you and your comrades standing your ground on the battlefield, when suddenly the enemy tanks appear over the rise? You know these guys mean business, but you have a secret weapon of your own. You can call in an airstrike from the sanctuary of God! BOOM! The sparks fly, the earth explodes, and where that enemy tank once sat a deep crater remains. Oh yeah! That’s what we want to do to the enemies of God! Then, I came to a curious passage about the banners of the Lord. I’ve heard about banners on a battlefield and have noticed banners referenced many times in scripture, especially when pertaining to warfare. So I dug a little deeper and discovered that banners on a field of battle have a huge, multifaceted significance.  First, they symbolize what side you’re on. If you are fighting battles and you find yourself in confusion, look up, examine the banner, and remember that you’re on the Lord’s side. Second, banners were used on battlefields to communicate, and like the signals I was teaching my students with a paddle, the banners of the flag bearers indicated the soldiers’ place and plan on the battlefield. The general or king could learn how the battle was unfolding and send aid to a fading line or direct a company to rout the enemy on a new front. Archers could differentiate between friend and foe as they examined the banners flying and aimed their arrows with precision.
My favorite use of the banner, though, is the presiding king raising his banner to signal a charge against the heart of the enemy lines. When the king’s banner goes up, all his forces rally to him and then make one massive, spearhead assault which utterly dominates the foe and decimates their numbers. The enemy is demoralized and consequently loses the nerve to persevere. Every warrior loves to see the king’s banner signal the charge because it means that the victory is imminent. When we fight under our King’s banner, we fight for the Victor of the universe. We fight for the King who cannot be defeated, the King who has promised that He will never leave us or forsake us and will strengthen us to fight as we’ve never fought before. What a confidence we have as we rally under the banner of King Jesus! Psalm 20:7 says, “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.” What a King…what a Name!
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by Joel BatesOh, those days when you wish you could get just one thing accomplished! Just one thing, but no matter how hard you try, everything works against you. You know what I mean! I like to think that I am flexible, but some days I wake up with an agenda fueled by the pressure to succeed, to achieve, and to win, even if my victories are paltry offerings. That morning, I awoke with the pressures that C.S. Lewis describes in Mere Christianity, “All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice…” But I couldn’t set them aside, couldn’t really hear the “other voice.” I had the day mapped out. I would finish the annual report, complete the next step in building the climbing wall, and call some prospective interns. Every item seemed really important. Then, when I got off work, I was going to get my taxes done and finish a little dry walling project that I’d neglected for months. My daughter had a term paper that she wanted me to proofread, and I was to help Caleb work on a poetry piece—again, good and important stuff. Then I arrived in the office. Logan awaited as I walked in two minutes late and immediately announced, “We need to talk.” His tone indicated my plans were about to be aborted. “There’s this bus,” he began. “It’s a good deal, and I really think we should try to purchase it for the camp.” He sat at his desk looking at me with hope and longing. You see, Logan has a soft spot in his heart for old, forlorn, unwanted, used vehicles. In a way, he sort of runs a vehicle orphanage! Actually, it’s more like a rest home. And, because we see old vehicles to their final resting places, he was certainly right about our needing a new bus. “There’s just one little problem,” Logan continued. I looked at him blankly. “The bus is two hours away...and I need you to go with me.” “Logan, I have all these tasks on my list, and they’re so near completion. I needed to finish something!” I protested. “Well, you can help me finish the hunt for a new bus,” Logan reminded. Getting a bus was not what I had in mind, but I couldn’t deny DM’s need. It was just two hours away. Okay, if we left immediately, we could get there, get the bus, and get back by lunchtime. Even if it were a late lunch, but I would still have the second half of the day to finish my tasks, and I could add acquiring an old bus to the list of accomplishments. “Grab the keys!” I said. “Let’s do this.” About halfway there, I thought, “Why didn’t I bring my daughter’s paper to proof?” I would have to do it later. Then Logan’s phone rang. The lady selling the bus was calling as an afterthought to inform us that the vehicle had a lien on the title! I gave Logan a hard look when he told me. He shrugged his shoulders, and we kept driving.  We got there and discovered that the bus was no better than our current rig, maybe worse! We noted torn seats, a hood that wouldn’t open, and an odometer reading nearly 50,000 miles more than reported. Logan and I met behind the bus.
“What do you think?” he asked. “I don’t like it.” Logan looked at the ground, “Me neither,” he admitted. “Sorry…it was a long way to come.” It was unfortunate. All the lost time was difficult, but the cost of not finishing my other stuff made it a hard price to pay. Then Logan remembered a used bus salesman in the area. “Do you have time to look at his supply?” Logan asked. We’d already invested the time, so I conceded, and we drove onward. The sales yard had lots of buses, and even one we really liked, but the salesman was busy with prior engagements and couldn’t see us until after lunch. My schedule was totally ruined now! However, after a hasty lunch and a couple of test-drives, we were ready to plunk the money down, buy a bus, and head home. However, the salesman informed us that he would have to get the bus inspected and ready for commercial highway use. We could buy the bus but couldn’t take it with us till next week! Late in the day, Logan and I wearily pulled into the DM parking lot empty-handed. I had awakened with great expectations of accomplishing so much, but had accomplished nothing. As Logan grabbed his coat to head home for the day, he paused outside my office. “Thanks for being willing to help me get a bus,” he said. “I’ve been so worried about replacing our old one. It puts my mind at ease, knowing we’ve got a plan.” “No problem.” I smiled thinly, trying to conceal my sense of personal failure that at the day’s end I had finished nothing. Then from the far reaches of my spirit, came a remembrance of God. He’s a Finisher, you know. Like at creation…the scripture says He made everything in six days and then rested. He didn’t leave trees half done, animals partly thought out, or man a pile of skin and dust, something to come back to later. No, He saw it through. Then there was the cultivation of a nation that would be His people. Drawing them out of Egypt and toward the Promised Land, He taught them how to build a government, a system of worship, and a fighting spirit. That first generation cowered before the waters of the Red Sea and later despaired at facing the giants in Canaan, complaining that it would have been better to die as slaves in Egypt. The Lord did complete his work, though…with the next generation, who bravely stepped into the flooded Jordan before its waters parted. They crossed full of fight and faith. God had “finished” them well. But the best finish, the one I’m sure every believer loves most, is the Savior Jesus hanging on the cross, bloody, and about to die after He’d spent His life loving the lost sheep of Israel, healing them of their diseases, performing miracles so they might believe. As He hung there, He uttered the ultimate truth, “It is finished.” What was finished? Jesus? Not hardly! In three days He would blast the stone from its seal and conquer death itself. He finished what we had started all the way back in the Garden of Eden with that fateful bite. We were done for, lost to sin and destined for destruction and death. But Jesus’ one act of dying on the cross paid our insurmountable debt and redeemed us for eternity. It was His finishing work! As I pondered this, I realized, it’s literally because of Jesus’ finishing work on the cross, that I can leave some things unfinished on my task list. He is the Prince of Peace and the Author of Time. My life in Him grants me time to deviate from my schedule, cancel some of my plans, and help a coworker find a bus…find some peace of mind. My to-do list awaited me the next day, but for some reason it didn’t feel as pressing, as urgent. I’ll draw this blog to a close because I do need to get some other things done today, but I sure do love knowing that I walk with God as I go about my tasks. I am learning how to finish things as I learn from the Master Finisher. _________________ “It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind.” C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity by Joel BatesWe sat quietly in the thick darkness of one of my favorite church sanctuaries—the depths of a cave nestled in a backcountry corner of southern Missouri. I began my devotional talk differently. Not the usual, powerful illustrations of light and dark or even a theme of the mire of sin and darkness. I began with Psalm 46. Compelled by the Holy Spirit, I spoke to men I barely knew. I was neither poised behind a pulpit nor able to even see my audience, but I felt certain about Psalm 46. That’s when the Lord began to teach me. Standing there before salt of the earth men; men with real faith and real trials; men with broken relationships and brutal failings; men who wanted to project strength but mostly felt like wimps; typical Christian men; I realized my own insufficiency. Sure I was the guide, but even my light source that got me here was not my own. In the pitch black where my eyes were useless, mingled with their burdens my uncertainties of my life collided with an awareness of my totally inability. Thankful for the darkness which hid my tears, I spoke. What was designed to teach others, became a lesson for us all: That to really know the living God requires our stillness amid crisis, and though we are used to being in control and manipulating resources, we have little of our own. Psalm 46 paints a rather horrific scene at first. Earthquakes toss mountains into huge storm-surged seas, and the ocean simply swallows these massive monoliths before the eyes of fragile man. That kind of power would totally absorb our thoughts, emotions. We are captivated by power. We want it and even believe sometimes that we contain true power within ourselves. Maybe this is why we love to watch super heroes pose as normal people, with inner, godlike power. I, like the rest of America, can’t seem to get enough of the Marvel cinematic universe where all those powerful Avengers of evil chuck villains through windows with ease, smash up top secret bases of the enemy, and take a fall from a 50-story high-rise, only to jump up and shake off the dust to keep demolishing the foe. The silver screen is able to depict seismic destruction and colossal havoc similar to the picture in Psalm 46…but Hollywood is not real. At the end of the day, we are still puny people with big problems. The psalm continues with a description of wars and worldly conflicts, the rise and fall of nations, and the peoples of the world who rage on and on. But our sovereign God is here, too, ending wars and bringing nations to their knees. Sandwiched in between the geographical calamities of Psalm 46, the planet and the power, peril, and ravages of nations, lies a holy metropolis where God’s people reside. This beautiful city has a river that springs forth from her midst, watering the land and bringing gladness to the hearts of those who dwell there. The scripture says God is in the “midst of the city,” and He will not allow it to be moved. It seems that from this river town, the inhabitants can see the despair and destruction all around their borders and are called upon to practice faith amidst trials of various kinds (Jas 1:2), fixing eyes on heavenly hope, godly good, and the Savior Jesus (Heb 12:2).  In that dark and wild cave, the psalmist’s words rested on our small, blind band of brothers. We could all relate to the encumbrances of trying to navigate through a pandemic, dealing with the loss of freedoms, providing for people in our care, and pressing against the incessant whispers of Satan that “God doesn’t like you,” or “You’ll never be good enough.” Then the part of the psalm that impacted me the most came at the end. “Be still, and know that I am God.” I want to know God, but I don’t always know how to perpetuate the relationship. I take my eyes off Him in the midst of the seismic, the warring, the overwhelming and incomprehensible, but here, in a cool, dark and quiet cave; here at the end of my resources; here tucked into the last verse of Psalm 46, I discovered the foundation.
In the stillness, we knew. We raised open hands and knew God was there. We held out our burdens and knew He would take them. We uttered humble prayers and knew God was listening. In that peaceful place we released the impossible task of saving ourselves and knew the truth; Jesus already did that long ago on a hill of death, surrounded by scoffers, under a storm-streaked sky. Now, because of Christ, when the storms of life rage, all God’s people really have to do is “be still and know." |
Come along side us as we journey in and out of the wilderness, discovering our Creator in creation.
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