Kena Hawkins Newkirk

Psalm 63:1

63:1 O God, you are my God, I seek you, my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.

Isaiah 55:1-3
Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters…Incline your ear, and come to me; listen, so that you may live. I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David.

My sweet fiance proposed to me by the Chattahoochee River. It’s a place where we like to go walking, and in the middle of January it was a quite and beautiful setting. We walked along the water’s edge for about a mile, side by side, until we came to a clearing in the woods.

The only sound you could hear as he dropped to one knee was the gentle movement of the river.

Rivers of course hold a special significance in this world. Water is the source of life.  No creature can survive without access to fresh, clean water. Ancient cities, and even cities today are usually founded near the banks of a river that can supply the inhabitants with water.

 

Scripture tells us that the Word of God is life giving. It satisfies the soul and gives life where there is none. And it may seem an often repeated truth, but it’s one we must hear when it feels as if our spirits feel stranded in a dry and weary land where there is no water.

Really, it is better to meditate on this truth, to allow it to saturate our hearts and satisfy our soul. During Lent, God is calling us gently to the river’s edge. Come; drop to your knees and listen, so that you may live.

Below is a song by David Crowder which I have found a wonderful meditation tool for God’s love. I hope you find it as encouraging as I have. 

O Lord, you have searched me and known me.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from far away.
You search out my path and my lying down,
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
O Lord, you know it completely.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is so high that I cannot attain it.

Psalm 139:1-6

If you haven’t heard, there’s a huge trend out there of full grown adults sincerely enjoying coloring books. You can now find adult coloring books on sale in bookstores, airports, and even in the checkout line at the grocery store.

For a while, I found it difficult to see the appeal. Granted, the coloring pages are usually more abstract and complicated than a typical child’s coloring book, but they are coloring books nonetheless. The process of coloring in between the lines is still the same, and it seemed confusing to me that people would want to limit their creative ability to a prefabricated outline. 

Recently, I learned of an adult coloring class that a friend of mine has been hosting as part of her work in a local church. Once a week, a small group gathers in a small room. Most of her students are elderly, and many of them have endured the death of a loved one or a recent illness.  In the class, they listen to music as they move crayon across paper and create unique artwork through the rhythms of coloring.

There is a certain peace in knowing one has boundaries. So often we worry about the future and fret about the past. We cultivate anxiety when we dwell on things we cannot change and lose ourselves as our minds wander beyond that which demands our immediate attention.

Psalm 139 has become an important resource for me during the season of Lent because of the perspective it offers. The poem begins by meditating on the unfathomable expanse of God.  Theologians call this God’s omnipresence which is another way of saying God’s everywhere-ness. God is present in our every movement and perceives our every thought.

The heavenly Father is so far beyond us that the Psalmist says in verse 6 “such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it.” It is as if God’s everywhere-ness overwhelms the writer of this poem. God is so far beyond we can’t begin to understand it.

I think people like adult coloring pages for the same reason this Psalm was written. When we reflect on the limitlessness of God we can’t help but be aware of our own limitedness. We live a finite existence in a finite world for a finite period of time. We have boundaries and edges that are like the lines on a coloring page.

But God doesn’t. God is omnipresent, and, although it is an overwhelming thought, it is also comforting because it means that God creates our edges. Or, better yet, God can be our edges. God can ‘hem us in, behind and before’ and give our lives definition. It is as if our lives are a coloring sheet and we need only be concerned with what what goes on in between the lines.

We are finite creatures. We have a lifespan and an environment that is not endless. We cannot control death and we cannot avoid tragedy. However, our Creator is limitless, and our Creator cares, and our Creator is eagerly waiting and watching to see us color in between the lines.

The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. Psalms 51:17

I once heard of a man who gave up shoes for Lent. There was some sort of social justice concern embedded in his actions in addition to spiritual practice. Without shoes the man could better understand the difficulties of those in poverty who had to do without shoes because they couldn’t afford them. For over 40 days, this man walked about on gravel and in snow with only socks and, occasionally, a bit of duct tape to keep the socks dry.

When I first heard of this man, I remember being fascinated by him. I was impressed with his dedication and sacrifice, and I began to feel like my own Lenten practice was inadequate. Giving up sweets or social media doesn’t seem to be on the quite the same level as giving up shoes.

I think there’s a lot we Christians seem to get wrong about sacrifice. One thing in particular I think we misunderstand is how the Jewish people interpreted sacrifice in the Old Testament. There’s a tendency for us to generalize and say that Israel understood sacrifice as the primary means of achieving forgiveness from sin. We concoct a narrative which says the Jews sacrificed in order to achieve forgiveness, but now we have Jesus, the perfect sacrifice. And since we have Jesus we no longer have to keep sacrificing animals or food or drink in order to be forgiven.

The verse above is from Psalm 51 and is traditionally read during Lent. The Psalm is
mostly about asking for God’s forgiveness. The author calls on God in order to be washed of sin and be given a clean heart.

Verse 17 is particularly moving because it says that what God really wants us to sacrifice is not sugar or livestock. God really desires the sacrifice of a broken heart.

You see, God doesn’t want us to sacrifice any-thing. God want us to sacrifice our very self, to lay down our life, take up our cross and follow Jesus. God longs for us to present our very heart and soul, broken and humble and ready to be made new.

When we give things up for Lent it’s not about achieving anything like health or holiness. The season before Easter is a time of humbling. It is a time of laying our hearts broken before the Lord, so that we may be made new when the sun rises on Easter morning

“Please give your servant a discerning mind…” 1 Kings 3:9 CEB

When I was young, and my Sunday school teachers taught me the story of Solomon’s wisdom, I think I was supposed to be impressed.

The way the story goes is that King Solomon, David’s son, inherits the throne of Israel and is poised for greatness.  Just as he is beginning his reign, God approaches Solomon in a dream saying “ask whatever you wish, and I’ll give it to you.”

Now, Solomon could have asked for money or health or military might, but instead he asks for wisdom or, as the CEB translates it, discernment.  He wants to be able to govern Israel as best as possible and make good decisions.  In order to do that, Solomon needs wisdom.

God is so pleased Solomon ask for wisdom instead of something else that God decides to give him riches, health, and power in addition to discernment.

When I was a kid, I think I was supposed to be impressed that Solomon didn’t ask for lots of superficial stuff, and I guess I was.  Certainly eight-year-old Kena would have requested a later bedtime or more friends at school.

But in Sunday School, the story of King Solomon made me think that if God ever granted me one wish, I could get even more wishes if I pretend to want something holy or spiritual.  I decided that if it ever came up I would lie to God about wanting wisdom so that I could get the cool stuff too.

Lately, I’m beginning to think God isn’t going to grant me a wish.  It’s still possible, but I think it unlikely that I will awake one night to God saying “ask whatever you wish, and I’ll give it to you.”  And that’s a shame.

It’s a shame because I’m older.  It’s a shame because I know better know.  It’s a shame because, after just a few years journeying through this life, my deepest heart’s desire is truly for the wisdom of God, even if I don’t get riches and health and power thrown in.

A thirst for wisdom is probably how I wound up in seminary.  It’s probably why people show up at church on Sunday morning, especially when the week before was full of unforeseen heartache.  We want to understand our pain.

When Solomon wakes up after his encounter with God he doesn’t make some big political decision or fantastic judgment call.  In fact, the first thing he does is go to Jerusalem, to the place where God’s covenant resided, in order to celebrate and sacrifice to God.

In other words, the wisest thing Solomon can think to do is enter into the community of God and engage in worship.

And, like the people who show up on Sunday morning weary from life’s journey, I think that the instinct to worship is always very impressive.

I would like to continue to explore some life lessons from the last four years of college. The proverb I will discuss derives from a catholic prayer which made it way into United States churches in the early part of the 20th Century.

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace;
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is discord, harmony;
Where there is error, truth;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

This particular prayer has had a great influence on my own life, and it is the emphasis on understanding which I take most to heart. Just as this prayer operates first in negation, then in affirmation, it is helpful for us to discuss what understanding is not, in order to make sense of proverb.

Understanding is not knowledge. Knowledge is a terminal activity of the mind, and in its pursuit mankind looks for singular answers to singular problems.

On the other hand, the pursuit of understanding is limitless and elusive. It is an activity of the mind and soul in which a person’s worldview is continually reshaped around the experience and stories of others. We as Christians must make a good faith attempt at understanding, while also acknowledging that we can never completely understand another’s circumstances. It is a strange paradox, but any grief counselor worth his or her stock will undoubtedly affirm, there should be great hesitation for any of us to say “I know how you feel.”

Nevertheless, we must humbly seek to understand the worldview of others as an activity of holy peacemaking and reconcilation. To seek understanding first is to be quick to listen and slow to speak (James 1:19). It is to allow others the more prestigious seat at the heavenly banquet in full assurance that the truth of Christ will win out in the end. This does not mean we accommodate falsity or compromise the truth, nor does it mean we remain silent in the face of injustice. However, it does mean that we first look for the truth of Christ in others, before we assume we have all the answers.