The Sacrifice of Praise

I put on black yesterday and climbed the stairs of my church to honor my friend Susan Fitts. Susan loved Jesus, she taught the Word of God with care and conviction, and she interceded for countless others daily. She helped found our church. I grieve for Susan’s family and for our church body, and for the huge hole unveiled in her absence.  

Today, my mom put on black and stood with her friend Cheryl while they mourned her husband Ray Ivey. Ray was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer about a year ago, and my dad wrote Ray a letter every week during his battle.  Dad reminded Ray of the Truth and the Way, and he offered up encouragement and no doubt humor for the journey. My dad’s last letter to Ray arrived right on time, a few days after Dad died. 

I wandered around my dad’s office that first day after he passed away, trying to figure out his latest thoughts, trying to catch a scent of him or find some piece of what his hand touched last, desperately trying to feel closer to him. I found a piece of scribbley yellow legal paper with Ray’s name on it. It was the next installment of his written legacy to Ray Ivey.   Spelled out in his awful penmanship was the life-giving, uncorrupted, eternal Word of God. Not a letter of it will pass away. I know my dad never guessed he would beat Ray to heaven or that his big country grin would be part of the glad entourage waiting to greet his old friend. 

Ray and Susan entered into Paradise, alive indeed, away from their decayed and sick bodies. 

Still, there is brokenness all around me. Sadness and loss are woven into each story as every joy ultimately ends in tragedy here on earth. Along with the most radiant wedding ceremony or birth of a child comes the looming fact that one will likely suffer the death of their beloved. The one left behind will mourn and grieve and have to learn life all over.  I look to my left and a beautiful high school girl in my town is killed in a car accident. I look to my right and a senseless act of violence has left my friend’s husband teaching his brain how to work again. No one escapes.

 I know what you are thinking—this girl needs medication. And while I probably do, stay with me on this one.

John Piper reminded me this week that NONE of it is meaningless.  For those who trust in Christ, every tragedy will end in JOY. And every minute or gigantic piece of suffering in Christ’s name is producing for us an eternal weight of glory. 

 But for now we are stuck somewhere muddling in the mush pot, between the tragedy that has happened and the looming joy that will someday come. And in this middle ground, our hearts join with ALL of creation and GROAN for Jesus to come back and make all things right and new. We long for that distant memory of Eden, where we commune with God and there is no sin or suffering or death, and we plead with Him for that day to come again. 

 I look back at my life, the first 34 years, and see how blessed, how very charmed my life has always been. How whole and un-broken, by comparison to what it is now. I have friends who grew up in broken homes, wrecked families, who are well-acquainted with the effects of the fall. 

I, on the other hand, danced through my childhood and adolescence with joy and with anticipation for more of life to find me. This is largely because I lived each day knowing how very loved and treasured I was by both of my parents, a total gift. But there is no perpetual summer, no eternal daylight. Eventually, times of sorrow and death pervade every life. The question becomes what will we do with it? 

Get this:  Jesus said,

“ ‘The stone which the builders rejected,
This became the chief corner stone’ (Jesus is talking about Himself here)

¹⁸ Everyone who falls on that stone will be broken to pieces; but on whomever it falls, it will scatter him like dust.” (Or “will be crushed” in the NIV)  Luke 20:17-18

There are only two categories Jesus mentions here.  Jesus drew a distinction between those who fall on the stone and those on whom the stone falls (specifically addressing the Pharisees here). Those of us who fall on Christ, who trust Him, we are broken to pieces. Those on whom the stone falls, those who reject Christ, are scattered like dust, or as the NIV states, “will be crushed.” 

There is no third category, no room for us to skip merrily around the stone singing “The Hills are Alive” or to sit on the stone and draw sunshines and smiley faces with sidewalk chalk. There are those who are broken and there are those who are crushed and scattered like dust. Period. 

If we have trusted Christ, we know that we can never be crushed or completely destroyed.  ^“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.  We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” 1 Corinthians 4:7-9

So we are not crushed, but the other option is to fall on Christ, the Cornerstone.

We fall on Christ, and get--- what?

Broken.

 Into. A million. Little. Tiny. Pieces. This is how I feel. And this is what God promises for those who fall on this stone, Jesus. I feel like I can’t move, can’t breathe sometimes. I definitely feel like I can’t do laundry or dishes or clean toilets. Or change dirty diapers.

God has thoroughly, swiftly, and completely broken me. 

Why is this surprising? This was the very way of Jesus, His own body broken for us. And when we take and eat the Lord’s Supper, we partake with Him of both the suffering AND the redemption. We don’t get one without the other. We partake in His suffering SO THAT we will partake in His glory. Everyone who would proclaim His Gospel drinks the same cup. Death and life. Suffering and glory.  Emptiness and fullness. Sorrow and joy. Brokenness and wholeness, together.

Remember that line of the song “To become like You in Your death, my Lord, and to know You in Your suffering?” There is no deeper way to know Jesus than in suffering and brokenness. I don’t think we truly know anyone until we walk through suffering together. I didn’t really know the depths of Marcus’ heart until last year when we knelt together on the beige carpet in our bedroom with buried faces, crying out and begging God to spare Marcus’ life from the cancerous mass in his lung. We were heartbroken, afraid, and in shock, yet completely united in our suffering in a way we never had been before.

It is the same way now with my mom and brother, and Marcus and my sister-in-law, Melanie. We have always loved one another as a family, but the bond is so much deeper now, as we are walking through loss and suffering together. We have never loved each other so well. And I know I have never felt so spiritually alive even though a part of me feels so totally dead.

Tonight I carved a pumpkin with my kids. I had this whole super spiritual lesson all lined up. It was going to be straight awesome, something they would look back on with warmth and joy and do with their children someday. I was going to talk about how carving a pumpkin is much like what Jesus does for us.  He takes all the yucky stuff out of us. He gives us new eyes to see and new ears to hear, a mouth to tell others about Him, and we are to be a fragrant aroma- I know this is a stretch, but it’s a nose, OK?  So then, we cut holes for eyes, nose, mouth, and… ears?? We actually ended up drawing ears on (complete with earrings) with a Sharpie. Classic. 

I thought I was going to see their little eyes illumine with understanding. I thought their hearts would leap with new found love for one another and for God. I thought they would shout out in unison, “I want Jesus to change me like our pumpkin!!”

 Instead, I had crying at the sight of the “goopy stuff,” cartwheels, fighting over the shapes of the eyes and nose (I am not joking), cartwheels and back walkovers, the baby running around with permanent markers writing on EVERYTHING, more cartwheels, knife-wielding (no names), crying, and still more cartwheels. I eventually ordered everyone away so I could carve my pumpkin in peace. I then passive-aggressively poked holes and virtually tortured my pumpkin (and myself in the process)… all to put a light inside for others to see (and for it to look cute on my porch, let’s be honest). Clearly, not the way I pictured it.  

Through the holes, through the ripped out guts, through the pumpkin completely emptied of its pumpkin-ness, there is a blaze of light. It had to be broken and empty and carved just right-complete with Sharpie earrings-to become beautiful, to be a vessel, to be something other than just a pumpkin.

 We have this treasure, the very glory of Almighty God in our jar of clay, our body. And when does the light inside the jar shine most brilliantly? When the jar is, well…broken. When things don’t go quite as planned and we are disappointed. When we are sorrowful and sick and we have come to the end of ourselves. When our hearts are carved up. When enough of what we have is removed to make room for the One who is our portion, our All in All. 

So what am I supposed to do? I am acutely aware of the fact that I am broken. Then what? How can I allow Him to use my empty brokenness and make me a vessel? What should be my response to Him breaking me? 

 The sacrifice of praise.

 

The very word “sacrifice” implies that it costs us something. Praising the Lord, in fact, thanking Him, when trying times come is a true act of worship. We will praise God in heaven, certainly.  But in Paradise, there is no sadness and nothing is broken. Praising Him will flow naturally from His presence and glory when we see His face. Then, we will have no reason NOT to praise Him. 

However, we will never, ever again have the same chance to praise the Lord through pain and suffering NOW as we do here on earth, before our faith is sight, when everything tells us NOT to praise Him. 

When with crooked hands and tear-stained cheeks we lift our heavy, broken hearts, we offer a sacrifice of praise. To bless His name when we are sick, when someone we love dies, when a child is delayed, when a marriage is broken…when we are seeing dimly and not face to face, when it costs us everything, this is the sacrifice of true praise. And a tiny flame is ignited in our hearts.

We are basically saying, not because I have but because YOU ARE, I will praise You. No matter if my circumstances don’t feel good, You are always good and worthy to be praised. And the tiny flame grows ever so slightly.

My friend Jenny Lynn reminded me that when we command ourselves in intense suffering to “Bless the Lord, O my soul” just as David did, the comforting power of the Holy Spirit is unleashed in us. God’s peace blazes in the darkness of affliction when we turn from looking inward to gazing upward. Pain to Praise. Worn out to Worship. Broken to Blessing. And the flame shines brighter.

So while I am in the mush pot, the middle, between the disaster and the Day… 

Help me, Lord Jesus, to offer you the sacrifice of a busted up, decimated, desperate hallelujah. And would You shine ever so brightly? Take out all the goopy stuff and give me new eyes to focus not on what is seen but on what is unseen. Carve me up. Give me a new heart just like Yours, that does not love based on gifts or deeds…but loves and worships just because of who You are and what is to come. I can offer You nothing that will make You love me more. And I want to get where the depth of my affections never waver based on what You give or what You take. 

 The Great I AM…worthy, worthy, worthy…

 And please, come quickly, Lord Jesus. 

Totally worth the listen- Click here for "Though You Slay Me" Shane and Shane (featuring John Piper)

“For here we do not have an enduring city, but we are looking for the city that is to come. Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise—the fruit of lips that openly profess his name.” Hebrews 13:14-15

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

Psalm 34:17-19            

“My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise.”

Psalm 51:16-18

“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners.”

Isaiah 61:1-3