Tuesday, March 25, 2025

Satisfied

 Satisfied

Psalm 63:1-8[1]

We live in a culture defined by dissatisfaction. In fact, we live in a world defined by dissatisfaction. I’m not talking about our “little world” around here. I’m talking about the great big world of all 8 billion people! In 2022, Gallup concluded a 15-year survey of people from all over the world measuring their sense of “happiness.”[2] They did over 5 million interviews, and they determined that “happiness” or “wellbeing” was based on five metrics: fulfilling work, little financial stress, great communities, good physical health, and loved ones to turn to in crisis. And their survey concluded that, in 2022 people felt “more anger, sadness, pain, worry and stress than ever before.” I don’t think that’s changed for the better. One of the reasons they offer for this situation is that most world leaders have been preoccupied with measuring income inequality. Of course, that’s important. But what the survey suggests is that the world’s leaders need to be paying much more attention to “wellbeing inequality,” or this global rise in dissatisfaction. I would say it’s all interconnected.

We don’t have to look around the world to see this for ourselves. It plays out in our lives and in our families’ lives every day. As a people we’re driven to do more, to have more, and to be more. We’re obsessed with perfection. All we have to do to verify that is open any of our social media accounts. We tend to want to put on the façade of “perfection” in the version of ourselves we present on Facebook or Instagram. But what all the pictures are hiding is the fundamental sense of inadequacy we feel. Not everyone posts out of insecurity, but the constant stream of “perfection” we scroll through can convince us we’re not “enough.” When that happens, it’s likely that we’re stuck in the rut of measuring our worth solely by external means. Living in the “right” neighborhood. Having all the “right” friends. Driving the “right” car. But all too often, what all this “striving” leads to is growing depression, anxiety, and substance abuse. And it leaves us incapable of any real contentment with what we have, where we are in life, or who we have become. But the wisdom of the ages has taught us time and again that it is precisely through that kind of contentment that we find lasting happiness.

Our Psalm lesson addresses this issue of where happiness is to be found. In fact, it’s one of the fundamental themes in the Psalms. We find it in the psalm-singers’ use of the language of “blessing.” It’s the first word of the first Psalm, and the idea of a life that is “blessed” resonates throughout the Psalms, echoing some 26 times. And the gist of what the psalm-singers have to say about “blessing” or happiness is that it “derives from living in complete dependence upon God.”[3] As we discussed in a different light last week, the Psalms clearly emphasize that this “blessing” or happiness is something we experience in the present. It happens right here and right now, even and especially in the midst of hard times. The reason for the ability to find “blessing” or happiness in the present is because of the confidence we have that it is the LORD who reigns over all things with “unfailing love,” and with justice that promotes peace and freedom for all peoples everywhere.

We find this general perspective reflected in our Psalm for today, even though it doesn’t begin in a way that sounds “blessed” or happy. Rather, the psalm-singer is so weary with longing for God’s help that he can liken his present experience to living in a “parched and weary land where there is no water” (Ps 63:1, NLT)! Even though he had worn himself out with looking for God’s deliverance, the psalm-singer had a resource in the past experiences of deliverance not only in the life of the people of Israel, but also in his own life. As he looks back over that history, he says, “I have seen you in your sanctuary and gazed upon your power and glory” (Ps 63:2). And the display of “power and glory” that he recalls, the reminder that despite it all God does indeed “reign,” is defined by remembering that God has always been true to his promise to show “unfailing love” (Ps 63:3).

The way in which the Hebrew Bible presents this kind of “blessedness,” this promise of happiness, is with the language of being “satisfied” as if one had just finished a fabulous feast (Ps 63:4). In fact, the idea that God’s “blessing,” or even God’s “deliverance” is to be found precisely in being satisfied with more than enough food echoes throughout the Psalms and the Hebrew Bible itself.[4] We heard it in our lesson from the book of the Prophet Isaiah as well: “Come, all you who are thirsty. Come and drink the water I offer to you. You who do not have any money, come. Buy and eat the grain I give you. Come and buy wine and milk. You will not have to pay anything for it. Why spend money on what is not food? Why work for what does not satisfy you? Listen carefully to me. Then you will eat what is good. You will enjoy the richest food there is” (Isa 55:1-2 NIRV). Joyful feasting is a recurring image in the Bible for the way God satisfies us with his love.

The key to finding this kind of satisfaction in life, come what may, is to learn to trust God’s unfailing love. As I mentioned earlier, the way the psalm-singer saw God’s “power and glory” was through God’s faithful exercise of unfailing love. So much so that he can say, “Your unfailing love is better than life itself” (Ps 63:3, NLT). I think this is the point of the psalm: we find satisfaction in life by trusting God to be faithful to show us his “unfailing love” right here and right now, through it all. To see that, however, we have to do what the psalm-singer did. We have to look back over the course of our lives and recall all the ways that God has done that in the past.

It may take some doing to adjust our focus to see that, especially when we’re going through hard times. In those times our experience may be like that of the psalm-singer. We may search for God and feel only silence. And we may continue the search so long that we feel worn out. But like the psalm-singer, when we continue to seek out the God we have known as our deliverer before, we find God’s unfailing love at work even in the midst of the pain. This kind of faith isn’t a “quick fix.” The psalm-singers knew what it was to suffer and to wonder where God was. But they kept looking back over the course of their lives. And as they did so they saw again all the ways God had been faithful to keep his promise of unfailing love.[5] That invitation is open to us as well. When we continue that search in our lives, in my experience we usually find ourselves at some point able to say with the psalm-singer, “You satisfy me more than the richest feast” (Psalm 63:5, NLT). People can find joy in many ways, as it should be, but this psalm invites us to a deeper joy that’s rooted in the God whose love for us is better than life itself. We can be satisfied when we remember that God has been our help in ages past, and that same God will be our hope for years to come.[6]  

We live in a world defined by dissatisfaction. In our culture, I wonder whether the narrative that fuels that dissatisfaction isn’t the myth of the “American Dream.” We should be able to do better and have more than our parents, and our children should be able to do better and have more than us. But the realities of our economy and our society make it clear that narrative may actually drive us to be deeply dissatisfied with our lives as they are. What if we turned the narrative around and learned to be truly content with what we have? Can you imagine a world in which we were more concerned about communities thriving together than we were with outdoing our neighbors? Can you imagine a world in which we’re more interested in lifting up all those who are broken, or hurting, or displaced, and offering them what they need rather than being so obsessed with getting everything we want. I think that would be a world filled with people who are happier, more content, and truly blessed. I think that would be a world full of people who know what it means to be satisfied. That vision of the world, one where we seek to lift one another up rather than beating others down, might sound like fantasy. But through God’s unfailing love, the dream becomes reality right here and right now.



[1] © 2025 Alan Brehm.  A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 3/23/2025 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Jon Clifton, “The Global Rise of Unhappiness,” Sept 15, 2022, accessed at https://news.gallup.com/opinion/gallup/401216/global-rise-unhappiness.aspx on 20 Mar 2025.

[3] J. Clinton McCann, Jr. “The Book of Psalms,” New Interpreters Bible IV:666.

[4] In the Psalms: Ps 22:27; 37:19; 81:17; 103:5; 104:28; 107:9; 132:15; 145:16 (“every living thing”!); 147:14.

[5] Cf. Shirley C. Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, rev. ed., 183: “the Christian doctrine of providence is not based on what we can figure out for ourselves from our own experience or observation of the world, balancing evidence for and against faith in God. It is a Christian doctrine based on what scripture tells us about the presence and work of God in the story of ancient Israel and above all in Jesus Christ” (emphasis original).

[6] McCann, “Psalms,” NIB IV:667: “To be happy is to entrust one’s whole self, existence, and future to God.” Cf. also Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, 184: “Remembering the past gives hope for the future. Again and again the psalmist expresses his confidence that the God who has been present to help, protect, liberate, and save will do it again. The memory of the powerful love and justice of God in the past brings hope for the powerful love and justice of God in the future” (emphasis original).

Tuesday, March 18, 2025

God's Goodness in This Life

God’s Goodness in This Life

Psalm 27[1]

You’ve heard me preach enough that you know I try to focus on how our faith shapes how we live here and now. I do that on purpose, because I believe Jesus focused on that. On the other hand, I’m well aware that for centuries our faith has directed our attention away from “this life” to the promise of eternal life to come. This shift took place for a lot of reasons. Essentially about 1800 years ago the church shifted its focus from what the kingdom of God challenges us to do with our lives here and now to the promise of going to heaven when we die. Since that time, our faith has been oriented toward what happens “in the sweet by and by” rather than “I’m gonna live so God can use me”!

The psalm singers had an interesting way of doing something similar. They tended to view “danger” as something that happens to us “out here” in real life, while safety is to be found “in there” in God’s presence. And God’s presence was identified with the Temple in Jerusalem. It was there, in “the Lord’s house” that the psalm singers sought refuge. As our Psalm for today puts it, “he will shelter me in his own dwelling during troubling times” (Ps 27:5, CEB). In a sense, “locating” God’s deliverance in a particular place, like the temple in Jerusalem, was similar to thinking of salvation in terms of what happens at a particular time, after we die. There’s nothing wrong with either one of those notions, as far as they go. But to limit God’s deliverance to a particular place or time runs counter to the fundamental assurance that God is sovereign and reigns over all of life, everywhere, all the time.

One of the challenges we face when dealing with the faith of the Psalms, as we’re doing this year during the season of Lent, is that they were written before Easter. All that we’ve discussed recently about how Jesus’ death and resurrection has changed everything for everyone everywhere was only something the psalm singers might have a vague hope for. While it’s still also our “hope” in that we have only tasted the salvation God has in store for us, we do have good grounds for that hope. Jesus’ death and resurrection happened. That’s not just a matter of “wishful thinking.” We have ample testimony to Jesus’ death and resurrection, not only in the writings of the Apostles, but also in the faith of believers throughout the ages, and in our own encounters with God in our lives.

Even without knowing the hope we have in Jesus’ resurrection, the psalm singers held a hope that was just as real and just as powerful for them. Their hope was in the God who created all the heavens and the earth (Ps 121:2; 146:6). Their hope was in the God who, although he is “Lord” over even death, does not promote death, but rather as the Creator of all things “affirms life and only life.”[2] Their hope was rooted in the belief that God brought order from chaos and life from nothing. More than that, their hope was in the God who had delivered their ancestors time and time again (Ps 22:4; 78:3). Particularly, despite the fact that they continually turned away from him, God was the one who “led his people out of Egypt and guided them in the desert like a flock of sheep” (Ps 78:52, CEV). They affirmed God’s power over even the dangers that his people still faced based on the many times he had delivered them from dangers of all kinds.

The psalm singers, like the prophets, affirmed their faith in God in the face of all that would threaten them. Psalm 107 particularly recounts the many ways God delivered His people when all hope seemed lost. Psalm 107 repeats the refrain “so they cried out to the LORD in their distress, and God delivered them from their desperate circumstances” four times (Ps 107:6, 13, 19, 28, CEB). The people had centuries of testimonies behind them already at the time the Psalms were collected and made into the “prayer book” of the faithful. Their hope in God as their refuge, as their deliverer, as their safe shelter, was based on their own experience, as well as the experiences of the people as a whole.

That brings us back to our Psalm for today. The psalm singer affirms that “The LORD is my light and my salvation” and “the LORD is a fortress protecting my life” (Ps 27:1, CEB). As I’ve observed before, this affirmation of trust in God as deliverer was not made in a time when all was right with the world. Rather, this psalm singer was engaged in a desperate struggle for his very life.[3] He speaks about brutal and vicious “evildoers” who were trying to “devour” him. He describes being surrounded by a vast army determined to destroy him (Ps 27:2-3). The situation is so dire that he truly feels afraid that God might “hide his face” from him, which would mean abandoning him to his enemies.

It’s in that setting of real danger and real fear that he can affirm his faith that God will bring good, not harm, into his life: “I have sure faith that I will experience the Lord’s goodness in the land of the living” (Ps 27:13, CEB)! That’s quite an astounding statement! He’s not just saying that whatever happens in this life, he trusts God to fulfill his promises ultimately. He’s saying that he’s firmly convinced that he will see God’s goodness in this life. And the way this affirmation is worded in the Hebrew, we might say that this psalm singer had “established” or “solidified” his life by trusting in God.[4] In a very real sense, the God who Created all the heavens and the earth, the God who had been Israel’s Deliverer throughout the centuries, had become the “solid rock” on which he staked everything! In the midst of very real danger and equally real fear, the psalm singer puts his trust wholly and completely in God.[5] That’s the pattern of faith throughout the Psalms.[6] At the end of the day, that kind of faith allows him to say that since God is on his side, there’s no one and nothing in life that truly deserves his fear!

Bringing this back to our lives, the question this Psalm poses for us is whether we can put our trust in God as wholly and completely as the psalm singer did.[7] To be sure, it’s not an easy thing to do. And it’s not something that you start your faith journey being able to do. It takes time and experience to build up that kind of faith. And we learn it precisely by doing what the psalm singer calls us all to do: “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!” (Ps 27:14). As we “wait” in faith and hope, in essence “relying” on God to bring good into our lives here and now, we’re staking everything on God, just as many others have done before us.

I think the essential factor in being able to do this in the face of real dangers and real fears is that we have to let go of our expectations about what God’s “goodness in this life” will look like. We all tend to have some expectations about that: “If God’s going to be ‘good’ to me, he’s going to give me what I want, or he’s going to make this problem go away.” Faith in God does not guarantee specific outcomes in life’s hardships. Sometimes life and faith are mysteries we simply can’t explain. Sometimes, we have to go out on a limb, and say with St. Paul, “If God is for us, who can ever be against us?” Sometimes we have to go out on that limb a little further and say with Paul, “nothing can ever separate us from God’s love” (Rom 8:33, 38, NLT). Nothing that life throws our way, nothing that anyone brings down on us, can ever separate us from God’s love! Even when our hardships don’t come to an end in the way we want them to, when we stake everything on God, come what may, we find God’s goodness in surprising places, sustaining us through it all, despite it all.[8] In a sense, this kind of faith, this level of trust, is about developing the capacity to see the good that God is always bringing into our lives, no matter what we may have to go through.



[1] © 2025 Alan Brehm.  A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 3/16/2025 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 2.3:616.

[3] H.-J. Krauss, Psalms 1-59, 337: “Even though still far from the sanctuary, the psalmsinger puts his confidence in Yahweh. He longs for the redeeming bestowal of salvation in the temple area and for being sheltered in the holy place (v. 4*). But the God of salvation (אלהי ישׁעי, v. 9b) is also present in the midst of the battle, in the midst of the external danger of his servant (vv. 1–3).”

[4] Krauss, Psalms 1-59, 336; cf. also H.-J. Krauss, Theology of the Psalms, 161: “האמין (“believe”) contains the root אמן (’aman), which means ‘to be firm,’ so that the hiphil of the verb could be translated as ‘make oneself firm,’ ‘have unshakable certainty’ (cf. Ps. 27:13).”

[5] Cf. James L. Mays, Psalms, 132: “Trust is active and real precisely when one is aware of one’s vulnerability, of one’s ultimate helplessness before the threats of life, ‘in the day of trouble,’ as the psalmist puts it.”

[6] Indeed, Karl Barth would say that is the faith of the Hebrew Bible. Cf. Barth, Church Dogmatics 3.3:618, “That God exists, and is true to Himself, is Israel’s help and consolation in death, its deliverance from death, and its hope.” While Barth speaks primarily of the “danger” posed by death, I think his observations relate to faith in God in general. He says further (p. 620), “All man’s [sic] deliverance, redemption, preservation, and salvation in and out of death is enclosed in God, in His existence in faithfulness. That it is all enclosed in Him and to be expected from Him, is the hope of the Old Testament in relation to death.”

[7] In fact, that is the testimony of the Psalms as a whole. As J. Clinton McCann, Jr., “The Book of Psalms,” New Interpreters Bible 4:667 puts it, in the Psalms to be “blessed” or “happy” “is to entrust one’s whole self, existence, and future to God.”

[8] Cf. Shirley C. Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, rev. ed., 189: “Remembering what God has done in the past and promises to do in the future,” which is the biblical foundation for trusting in God’s ongoing care, “recognizes signs here and now of God’s presence and work in our lives and the world around us.” (emphasis original)

Sunday, March 16, 2025

God is our Refuge

 God is Our Refuge

Psalm 91[1]

I’d like to share with you another in my occasional stories of my personal interaction with Scripture. Psalm 91 has been a companion on my journey for almost 45 years. I still remember reading it the first time it made an impression on me. I was a 19-year-old sophomore ministerial student in college. I can still picture in my mind the first time the words of Psalm 91 really sank in for me. I was sitting at my desk in my dorm room, and the words of this Psalm “jumped off the page.” It felt like God was speaking the promises of this Psalm to me personally. The one that stood out was “A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you” (Ps 91:7, NRSV). I found that deeply reassuring as I wrestled with the uncertainties and fears I faced as I was trying to find my way as a young man.

Fast-forward twenty years, and my relationship with the promises of this Psalm became complicated by the disappointments of life. I had lost my marriage, my family, and my career. It was a time when I felt like I was living through my worst nightmare, only it had somehow become real. I wondered, oftentimes out loud (literally) what those promises of protection from harm meant in light of all I had lost. “A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you” seemed an empty promise at best. At worst, I wondered if it offered false hope. In my mind, it felt like all the calamites Psalm 91 promised God’s protection from had come down on me in one fell swoop. I felt (and said out loud in prayer) that God had somehow let down his end of the bargain.

What I know now is that this was a necessary step in my relationship with this Psalm, with the Psalms, and with the Bible as a whole. Simply taking a particular Bible verse as if it were promising that I would not have to endure the hardships of life was not realistic. What I discovered is that the Psalms themselves, and this Psalm in particular, address that very issue. One of the major themes of the Psalms deals with a person who has done everything in their power to live out their faith in God and yet finds themselves in dire straits, suffering loss or grief or pain so great that makes it feel like God has abandoned them. One of the Psalmists actually asks God (out loud) “Why are you sleeping?” (Ps 44:23, GNT). And then, of course, there’s the Psalm Jesus quoted from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Ps 22:1, NRSV). Long before Jesus uttered that cry, it was the prayer of someone who felt like God had let them down.[2]

The Psalms as a whole deal with this troubling question. To be clear, it’s not just the question of “why do bad things happen to good people?” That’s a hard one, but the Psalms wrestle with a different question: “why do bad things happen to people who put their trust wholly and sincerely in God?” At times, the Psalmists lay the blame for these calamites at the feet of the “wicked.” In the Psalms, the “wicked” are not people who have typically been singled as “immoral” or “sinful.” The “wicked” in the Psalms are deemed so because their only value, their only “moral compass” is about gaining power, influence, or wealth. God’s purposes, God’s truths, God’s ways mean nothing to them. And they demonstrate that attitude precisely by taking advantage of the most vulnerable people.[3]

But not all of life’s hardships have a single, clear-cut cause. There are times when those who put their trust wholly and sincerely in God, who are called the “righteous” in the Psalms,[4] simply find themselves in dire straits. In a very real sense, the suffering of those who trust in God is just part of the mystery of life. That’s an essential perspective I had to learn. Despite the language of this Psalm to the contrary, the promise is not that hard times won’t come. The promise is that that the hard times that inevitably come won’t last forever. The “righteous” may “fall,” but they will not “be utterly cast down.” The reason for this is because the Lord “upholds” them him with his hand (Ps 37:24 KJV). Or, as the Good News Translation puts it: “If they fall, they will not stay down, because the Lord will help them up.”[5]

That brings us back to Psalm 91 and the affirmation of faith that “the Lord is my refuge.” One thing we have to keep in mind as we read this Psalm is the human perspective of the Psalms as a whole. We’re used to dealing with Scripture as “the Word of the Lord,” and we sometimes forget that all Scripture also has a human component. That’s particularly on display in the Psalms, because they’re prayer-songs that came from the life experience of the people who lived out their faith in God. Sometimes we find very human hurt and anger expressed in the Psalms. Other times, like in Psalm 91, we find the personal testimony of someone knows the joy of having been delivered by God from suffering. And those testimonies of personal faith were incorporated into the worship of the people as a whole and became a part of the collection of the Psalms. I would say that there are times however, when the psalm-singers may have gotten a bit carried away. That’s understandable. They’re expressing thanks to God for deliverance from suffering and they’re trying to praise God in the highest ways they can. But at times they promise more than God has promised. And throughout the ages, sincere people have staked their faith on the promise of protection from any and all harm that we find particularly in Psalms like this one.[6] When life doesn’t turn out that way, it leaves us wondering what comfort this Psalm actually offers us.

I think we find a clue in Psalm 91 itself. Much of it reflects the Psalm-singer promising God’s protection to other faithful people by using “you”: “a thousand may fall at your side, … but it will not come near you.” And those promises reflect an honest but human perspective on the assurance of God’s protection. But the last couple of verses shift to a declaration of God’s intent with “I”: “I will rescue those who love me.” In order to keep a balanced perspective on what this Psalm promises and what it doesn’t, we have to read the whole Psalm. At the end, when God “speaks,” he says: “I will rescue those who love me. I will protect those who trust in my name. When they call on me, I will answer; I will be with them in trouble. I will rescue and honor them” (Ps 91:14-15, NLT).

The bottom line for our faith is that God doesn’t promise anyone what they will never have to deal with hard times.[7] Notice, when God “speaks” at the end of Psalm 91, he acknowledges that those who trust in him will have times of trouble. But the promise is, “I will be with them in trouble.” That’s what it means to trust in God as our “refuge” in life. Trusting in God as our refuge, as this Psalm calls us to do, is something that takes place in the midst of the hard times we face in life. It means trusting those hard times will not last forever, and in the end God’s love will have the final word: “I will be with them”; “I will protect them”; “I will rescue them.” God is, and always will be, our refuge!

Learning to take what I would consider a balanced perspective to Psalm 91 didn’t happen for me overnight. I still cherish the promise, “A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you.” But it took years of experience to come to a more balanced perspective on what that promise actually means. I had to learn the hard way that it doesn’t mean that God will somehow exempt those who trust him from the hardships of life. I learned that from my experiences, but also from reading this Psalm more carefully, and from reading this Psalm in light of the rest of the Psalms, as well as the witness of Scripture as a whole. What I also learned was that with promises like the ones made in this Psalm, we have to hold our faith in tension with the challenges of life. We may not see God’s promises fulfilled immediately, but the assurance of Scripture is that we will see them ultimately. That may feel like small comfort while we’re struggling, but it is a comfort nevertheless. As we take our journey through Lent this year, we’re going to continue looking at what the Psalms teach us about faith. I hope that it will make the promises in the Psalms, and in the Bible as a whole, make sense in the light of the experiences in life that often contradict them. I hope that it will help us all learn more fully what it means to affirm that God is our refuge.



[1] © 2025 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 3/9/2025 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Another example is Psalm 77:9: “Has God forgotten to be merciful? Has he in anger withheld his compassion?” (NIV). I think it’s important to remember that “merciful” and “compassionate” are two of the essential characteristics in the basic declaration of who God is in the Hebrew Bible, Ex 34:6: “The Lord, the Lord God, compassionate and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in faithfulness and truth” (NASB). Essentially, the Psalmists asks whether God has forgotten to be “God”! Cf. Shirley C. Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, rev. ed, 183: “The Old Testament writers are very realistic about the contradiction between what their life was really like and what they believed about the God who chose and promised to help them. The psalmist expresses it most clearly. Over and over again throughout the Psalms he complains about the distance, silence, absence and hiddenness of God… .”

[3] Cf. Hans-Joachim Krauss, The Theology of the Psalms, 129, the “wicked” is “not only one who denies God in some sense yet to be defined; he is above all a person who has no shame before God or humans when he carries his evil, deceitful, deadly murderous plans into action. … With unshakable confidence he goes his way. He relies on the destructive power of his words and asks in his hubris and sense of superiority, ‘Who is our master?’ (Ps. 12:4).” See further J. Clinton McCann, Jr, “Book of Psalms” in New Interpreters Bible IV:667, where he defines the “wicked” in the Psalms as those “who consider themselves autonomous, which means literally ‘a law unto oneself.’” He continues, “Self-centered, self-directed, and self-ruled, the wicked see no need for dependence upon God or for consideration of others.”

[4] They are also called “the poor” in the Psalms. Cf. Krauss, Theology, 150-57. The “poor” in the Psalms are those who “find comfort and support” in God, and who “rely on Yahweh alone” (ibid., 152). On the “righteous” in the Psalms, see further McCann, “Book of Psalms” NIB IV:667, where he defines “righteousness” or “the righteous” in terms of “fundamental dependence upon God for life and future” which he observes is definition of happiness in the Psalms: “To be happy is to entrust one’s whole self, existence, and future to God.”

[5] This reminds me of St. Paul’s affirmation that “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed” (2 Cor 4:7-8, NIV).

[6] James Luther Mays, Psalms, 297, puts it even more bluntly: “The Psalm itself poses a danger. Because its assurance of security is so comprehensive and confident, it is especially subject to the misuse that is a possibility for all religious claims, that of turning faith into superstition.” He points out that “bits of the text have been worn in amulets that were believed to be a kind of magical protection for those who wore them”! McCann, “Book of Psalms” NIB IV:1048, picks up on this and insists, “We must not use Psalm 91 as a magical guarantee against danger, threat, or difficulty. Rather, this psalm is a reminder to us that nothing ‘will be able to separate us from the love of God’ (Rom 8:39 NRSV).” He continues, “In fact, Jesus’ and Paul’s faithfulness to God and to God’s purposes impelled them into dangerous situations” and he points out that “when Jesus did claim the assurance of the Psalms, it was from the cross” (emphasis original)!

[7] Cf. Mays, Psalms, 298, where he says in response to the misuse of Psalm 91 in the temptation of Jesus that “Real trust does not seek to test God or to prove his faithfulness”! Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 3.3:518: “we must remember that the protection of angels consists in the fact that by their witness to God they keep those committed to them in fellowship with God” (when he says “those committed to them, he clear means those angels [plural!] to whose care individuals may have been entrusted by God). Cf. also John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion I.14.12, p. 171, where he insists that “whatever is said concerning the ministry of angels” the purpose is that “our hope in God may be more firmly established.”

Tuesday, March 11, 2025

Truly Free

Truly Free

2 Corinthians 3:7-4:7[1]

I would say that our notions of freedom in this country are defined more by our secular values than they are by our faith. We believe, as the Declaration of Independence so eloquently puts it, that we are all “endowed” by our Creator “with certain unalienable Rights,” including “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” That was a truly revolutionary idea about freedom in that day. It was based, however, not on biblical teaching, but on the best political philosophy of the time. And while I agree with it, I would also point out that in 1776, that statement only applied to men who owned a certain amount of property. It wasn’t really a statement about how all people equally deserve to be free. It was a response to the tyranny of the day, but we’re still trying to work out what that means for all people.

For most of the history of the world, “common people” have lived in fear of “powers that be,” whether secular or spiritual. Kings ruled absolutely. What they said was the law of the land. Whether or not it was true or right didn’t really matter. Tyranny was simply the way things were. People have also lived in fear of spiritual powers they don’t understand and can’t control. In ancient times, the “gods” were no better than the rulers. They could be just as fickle and cruel. I think some of mythology was just projecting the unpredictability of life onto spiritual powers. At least that way people could make sense of their hardships. The “gods” or the “demons” were responsible. In response most people turned to various means from astrology to magic to try to fend off the troubles of life. It was, at best, a feeble attempt.

Many people through the ages have feared death above all else. Without the light that dawned on that first Easter morning, people live in fear of death. They’ve had all kinds of beliefs about death throughout history. Some saw death as a kind of shadowy place, where you were only a “ghost” of your former self. Some saw death as the doorway to hell, where everybody would spend the afterlife being punished for everything you did wrong in this life. Even those who worshipped the one true and living God feared death, because they saw the grave as a place where they would not only be cut off from the joys of life but also cut off from God.

As we’ve been discussing the last few weeks, St. Paul insists that Jesus’ death and resurrection sets us free from all that. As we’ve seen, Paul proclaimed that Jesus’ death on the cross has broken the power of all that threatens the meaningfulness of our lives. That’s because he willingly submitted himself to the “powers” of evil, and when they did their worst to him, they effectively “spent” their power. But Paul goes beyond that. He says that Jesus also broke the power of sin and death when God raised him from the dead. As we heard in our lesson from last week, Paul declared that “Just as everyone dies because [of] Adam, [because of] Christ everyone will be given new life (1 Cor 15:22, NLT).

That first Easter morning revealed a power at work in this world greater than sin or death. Jesus’ resurrection pointed to the power of God’s life-giving Word, the same Word he spoke over the darkness in the beginning, “let there be light!”, creating all life out of the vast nothingness. And in Jesus, God revealed that his Word still has the power to bring life out of death. As we discussed last week, Paul was ultimately pointing us to the hope that we will all live in God’s (re)new(ed) creation after Jesus has returned to “make all things new.” But more than that, St. Paul was convinced that through Jesus’ resurrection, God began the process of making a whole new creation right here and right now in the midst of this world.[2] The life that God effectively “injected” into this world by raising Jesus from the dead is like a transfusion spreading through all things and everyone.

That’s why St. Paul could say in our lesson for this week that we’re all in the process of being transformed to become “more and more like him as we are changed into his glorious image” (2 Cor 3:18, NLT). Because we have all seen the light of the “glory of God … in the face of Jesus Christ” and we now “have this light shining in our hearts” (2 Cor 4:6-7), it’s as if God’s new work of creation is already working in our lives. So it is that Paul could say later in 2 Corinthians that “if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” (2 Cor 5:17, NIV).[3]

What does all that Paul has to say about Jesus’ death and resurrection mean for us on this day? I may be wrong about this, but we don’t seem to fear sin or death all that much. That’s one reason why the traditional gospel tends to fall on deaf ears in our world. But I would say that sin still brings its own sting. We just have a way of denying it, or avoiding it, or rationalizing it away. I would also say that while we might no longer subscribe to ancient superstitions, death is still a very real enemy. We can see that power at work every time anyone anywhere abuses their power to harm or even kill innocent people. It happens all the time in our world. We just choose not to look. I would say that we still need freedom from sin and death, we just don’t see it that way.

So how then do we in the 21st Century frame the good news that in Jesus Christ we are truly free? The biblical view of freedom is first and foremost that we are free to live in the way that God intended for us when he created everything very good (Gen 1:31). Paul says it this way in our lesson for today: “For the Lord is the Spirit, and wherever the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. (2 Cor 3:17, NLT). And in his mind, the Spirit of the Lord is at work throughout God’s creation, especially wher there is faith in Jesus Christ. The way we see that freedom is in the Spirit enabling us to become more like Jesus, aligning our lives with God’s purposes and ways.[4] Through Jesus and through the Spirit, God is setting us free to let go our selfish and self-centered efforts at justifying the meaning of our lives, by having the right title, or living in the right neighborhood, or knowing all the right people. That way of trying to find meaning in life still brings its own “sting.”[5]

Jesus sets us free to obey God, following his example of what it means to be fully human by surrendering fully to God’s will (1 Pet 2:16). That means we’re free to give without any thought of what we may get in return, which is the essence of how Jesus lived, and the essence of how Jesus taught those who would follow him to live (Lk 6:35). Because of Jesus, we’re free to serve others, sharing food with the hungry, compassion with the outcasts, and shelter with the refugees (Mt 25:35). You may see where I’m going with this: living in a way that’s truly free means loving without constraints.[6] We’re truly free when we love God with all our hearts, tearing down the shrines to false gods that we’ve all built. And we’re truly free when we love our neighbors as ourselves. All our neighbors. True freedom, from the perspective of our faith, is not found in rights or resources, not in privileges or buying power, not in influence or success or wealth. Regardless of who the powers that provoke our fear may be in our day and time, the promise of the Gospel is that true freedom is found in a life defined by love (Gal 5:13). Love for God and love for others. When our lives are defined by love for God and love for others, then we are truly free.



[1] © Alan Brehm 2025. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 3/2/2025 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Cf. Viktor Paul Furnish, Theology and Ethics in Paul, 126: “while the salvation which God effects is first of all an object of hope, God’s power is nevertheless already effective for men [sic] in Christ. … Salvation, then, is not unambiguously ‘future,’ and it is not only a ‘hope.’ Even in the present age the ‘first fruits’ of salvation may be savored and the authenticity of hope confirmed.”

[3] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.1:311, where he connects 2 Cor 5:17 with the complete “alteration” of the “human situation,” of “our whole existence,” through Jesus’ death and resurrection. This not only means the reconciliation of those who are “in Christ” with God, it also means “the reconciliation of the world with God”! Barth speaks of this “alteration” throughout the Dogmatics, but especially so in volume four, where he relates it not only to those who are in Christ, but to all humanity. Cf. also Jürgen Moltmann, Ethics of Hope, 55, where he says that in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ “the eschatological turn of the world begins, from transience to non-transience, from the night of the world to the morning of God’s new day and to the new creation of all things” (emphasis original

[4] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Spirit of Life: A Universal Affirmation, 271, where he argues that since in the Bible (not just the New Testament!) “‘Lord’ is the name for the experience of liberation and for free life, then the name is misunderstood and brought into disrepute if it is interpreted in terms of masculine notions of rule.” He also insists that “living freedom and free life can endure only in justice and righteousness. In justice, human freedom ministers to life—the life shared by all living beings. In justice, human life struggles for the freedom of everything that lives, and resists oppression.”

[5] Cf. A. C. Thiselton, The First Epistle to the Corinthians: a commentary on the Greek text, 1301: “it is sin, the human turning away from God to become centered upon the self, that has turned death into such deadly poison, so that it hurts and kills like a sting.”

[6] I would suggest that this idea of freedom to love is a central theme in Jürgen Moltmann’s understanding of the Christian life in his works. See for example, The Church in the Power of the Spirit: he begins with the idea that Jesus establishes the freedom of God’s kingdom by sacrificing himself for others (117), by breaking the powers of oppression through the resurrection (98-99), and by assuring us that we are accepted by God, and therefore enabling us to accept others (188-89). On this basis Moltmann understands the freedom of God’s kingdom as that which enables us to serve one another in the effort to bring freedom to others (84, 195, 278, 283-84, 292). He construes the Christian life under the concept of “friendship” which Jesus models and we are called to emulate  as those who are “open for others” and who “love in freedom” (121, 316).