A Word on His Word - Our "Hymns of Praise"

I was doing my devotions last night, reading Psalm 40. I have read the first three verses many times, but this time, I was given fresh revelation.

"I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in the Lord" (Psalm 40:1-3)

Something struck my attention in the phrase "a hymn of praise to our God." I had just finished writing an email to the new members of the youth group worship team. In it, I noted the difference between 'worship' and 'praise' (worship being a response to who God is and praise being a response to what He does). That verse suddenly made a lot more sense to me.

I had always thought of it as, "When we 'worship' God, others will see it and, for some reason (unknown to me), that will make them fear God and trust in Him." Why telling God that He is holy and good and awesome and [fill in the blank with any quality that defines Him] would cause an unbeliever to fear Him or put their trust in Him never fully made sense to me. But, the word in that verse is not 'worship' - it's 'praise.' I believe there is significance in making the distinction.

Each of us has a testimony - a "hymn of praise to our God" - of what God has done or is doing in our life. This is one of the most powerful tools God has given us to turn a lost world toward Him. We are given countless examples throughout Scripture of this cause and effect scenario (e.g. 1 Chronicles 16:24-25; Mark 5:1-20; John 4:4-42), but I especially love how straightforward it is put in the story of the Samaritan woman: "Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman's testimony, 'He told me everything I ever did'" (John 4:39).

This brought me back to the first two verses of Psalm 40:

"I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand" (Psalm 40:1-2).

This was David's testimony of God's deliverance. Aside from the "waiting patiently" part, ha, this sounded strangely similar to my own testimony (or -ies). I recall one night in particular, two Februaries ag0. I was going through a lot of personal stuff at the time, dealing with a lot of stress and a lot of guilt. To top it all off, I had woken up that morning completely overwhelmed with the sudden realization that I, in fact, struggled with something that I had denied struggling with for nearly ten years. In a matter of hours, I went from okay to not so good to suicidal. Walking across FSU's campus that rainy morning, I felt as if I was alone - as if God was very far away, and I no longer knew how to find Him. By mid morning, I had planned my own death. I was just waiting for one thing - for God to step in and change my mind. Stupidly (and almost mockingly), I told Him, "I'll give you one more day, God." Well, that day passed, just like every other, and nothing changed. I went to church that night, as I did most Wednesday nights, but God felt just as distant there as He had at school. I drove away in tears after the service, screaming at God, telling Him I was "done." I was on my way to carry out my plan when something (or Someone) prompted me to make a phone call - a final resort. I called a friend who never answered her phone, expecting to get her voicemail. (In fact, I told God that was all I'd get. I told Him it was a dumb idea, and that "when" she didn't answer, I would go through with things as planned.) She answered. Not knowing what to say, I told her I was in trouble and needed to talk with someone. She said, "Give me ten minutes, and I'll be back."

"I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry..."

She sat with me in silence while I squirmed anxiously in my chair. She listened to me as I told her (between sobs) what was going on, and, for the first time ever, the admission to my struggle rolled off my tongue. When I expected her to judge me and pull away, she smiled, laughed, pulled me close, and told me, "It's no big deal." I had believed so many lies that day. I believed that God had left me, when He clearly promised He never would (Deuteronomy 31:6). I believed that my struggle was worse than everyone else's, when there is no temptation that is not common to man (1 Corinthians 10:13) and Jesus Himself was tempted in every way (Hebrews 4:15). I believed that my life was a mistake, and that others would be better off if I were dead, when all throughout Scripture, we see that God forms each of us with purpose - He makes no mistakes (Psalm 139:13-16; Jeremiah 1:5; Philippians 1:18b-26). But...

"He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand."

To this day, I still deal with depression - it is an ongoing battle, and from time to time, I still lose sight of those truths (and many others that have kept me grounded over the last twenty-two years of my life). But I am still alive today, standing on the Word of God, and speaking truth over the Devil's lies (in my life and in the lives of others who will read this) - because of God.

This is the "new song" that He has put in my mouth, my "hymn of praise" to God. "Many will see and fear and put their trust in the LORD."
 

"We will overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our
testimony - everyone, overcome." - "Overcome" by Desperation Band
(Reverlation 12:11)

We'll Call This 'Chapter Two'

(For those of you who already got the whole scoop about my latest trip to Tallahassee, you may want to skip down to paragraph three. Otherwise, let's start at the very beginning... a very good place to start, or so I hear.)

A couple Mondays ago, I got a text from a friend and former classmate at FSU, out of the blue, asking for my email address. I sent it to her, and she responded with, "Check your email ASAP." Ashley and I both graduated from FSU with degrees in computer criminology - she went on to take a job with the FDLE, and I went on to... well... I'm still figuring that out. The email? A forward from the Forensic Services Director notifying FDLE employees that a position was opening up and asking for any leads to a potential candidate for the position. Above the forward, Ashley noted: "If you would like information on this open position, please let me know!" My response was something along the lines of, "Yes, please - I mean, it couldn't hurt anything." That Tuesday, I received an email from the Director, asking for my resume. I spent that evening updating and proofing it, then sent it in late that night. A few days past, then much to my surprise upon leaving work that Friday, I had a voice message on my phone from an anonymous number: "This is the Director of Forensics at FDLE. I've gone over your resume, and I'd like to meet you - can you come in Monday morning, or sometime early next week for an interview? Call me back."

Phone calls and arrangements were made - I would leave for Tallahassee the following Monday evening after work. I had an interview scheduled for that Tuesday morning with the FDLE. Even better, on my way to work that Monday morning, I called the pastor of a church in Tallahassee that was looking for a youth pastor. I had been prayerfully considering applying for that position for about a month at that point, and over the weekend, I had (finally) completed my philosophy of youth ministry. Doors were opening, and the timing seemed right. I informed the pastor that I was interested in his job posting, that I would already be in town for another interview, and that I would love to stop by and meet with him and give him my resume and PoYM in person, if he was interested. He said, "Certainly. Come on by whenever your other interview is over." Everything was falling into place so perfectly.

The trip to Tallahassee, though short-notice, was much needed and could not have been more perfect. Though I could not see everyone I would've liked to with such little time, I at least got to spend time with a handful of close and dearly missed friends. (I also got to visit two out of three of my favorite Tallahassee coffee shops!) And to top it all off, the interviews went really well! I left the interview with FDLE very hopeful (and with good cause - the Director and I really seemed to hit it off), and though the interview with the pastor left me a bit more doubtful that things would "work out," I at least had a foot in the door (and I certainly did not lose any points with him by coming by).

But that Wednesday afternoon, I had a conversation with a friend that would change things. Why? I cannot even begin to tell you. But as she began to share with me something completely unrelated to my moving back to Tallahassee, a deep unsettling came over me. I drove home that evening, confused. I spent some time talking with God about it during the drive (five hours, after all, is plenty of time for such a conversation). I asked God for a clear answer either way, but the confusion remained; so did the unsettled feeling.

This past monday (not even a week after the first interview), I found another voice message on my phone upon leaving work: "This is the Director of Forensics at the FDLE again. Please call me back at your earliest convenience." After a couple rounds of phone tag, we finally connected Wednesday night. Any time an interview-related conversation begins with "Thank you so much for blah, blah, blah... but unfortunately...," it's fairly safe to assume the worst. However, the worst was actually the best, this time.

No, I did not get the position - but I did get a pretty clear answer from God - No, not right now - just like I had asked for. No, I didn't get the position - but I got the most encouraging rejection anyone could ever hope for (if such a thing exists). The Director told me that, out of all the people she interviewed, she wanted me. I was the name she gave to human resources for the position; HR told her, "We don't think she has enough experience." No, I didn't get the job - but the Director said that she didn't want to tell me in a voicemail because she wanted to get my permission to send me a form to fill out and file with HR that will better my chances the next time around, and told me, "Maybe in the future another position will open up that you're interested in, and if the opportunity comes again, I would love to work with you down the road." Not a bad way to get turned down.

While there is still a chance that the other position - youth ministry - could work out (and honestly, that was the one I was really rooting for in the end), the time-frame is unknown. I could hear back from them tomorrow... or I could hear back from them in six months to a year (I'm banking on the latter, ha). If and when I do, I am sure that answer will be just as clear, one way or another. Either way, for now, I'm not moving, and strangely enough, I have peace in that.

Don't get me wrong, I miss Tallahassee - the places, but mostly the people. And I loved the thought of going back - getting to be more involved with some of my "old" Tallahassee youth again and diving into the countless ministry opportunities up there. But I have youth here in Palm Bay too that I've grown to love and, much to my dismay sometimes, several of them have grown to love me back. And there are tons of ministry opportunities - genuine needs - here right now. Many that I've chosen to ignore because, quite honestly, I don't want to be here.

I don't know if Melbourne/Palm Bay is where I'm supposed to be either long-term, but I do know this: I'm not ignoring those opportunities anymore. So long as I am here, I'm here.