Good Night, Sleep Tight

Did you ever hear the little ditty my parents would say to me when it was time for me to go to bed? It went like this: “Good night, sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite!” Which I always thought was a weird way to send your kid to bed; instead of drifting off to sleep with various pleasant thoughts, the poor children would see “visions of creepy-crawlies dance in their heads.” Not especially conducive to blissful rest! The other restful line kids were told to say included the words, “If I should die before I wake . . .” which though theologically correct, was also somewhat anxiety-producing.

Perhaps it was one of those lines going through my head, or maybe a mess of unresolved thoughts about the current state of our country and world, or, whatever movie I watched before bedtime, or most likely, my own personal health issues. Whatever the mix of those thoughts recently, I couldn’t get any sleep. After tossing and turning most of the night, even after praying for relief, I finally decided I needed to fill my mind with more restful thoughts.

I got up and staggered to my computer. First, I found a video of “sleep- inducing” nature sounds: a good old Midwestern rainstorm. I blanked the screen and listened to the sounds of rain and far-off thunder. The video was said to run for three hours, but I didn’t make it that long; It turns out the sound of running water called forth sympathetic urges in myself that interfered with any thought of sleep.

After that experiment, I tried sitting in the dark while imagining a more benign fantasy of lecturing at some college. I have no idea why I thought that would work, because before long I had created an entire course syllabus in my mind, along with fleshed-out talks, illustrations drawn from current events, and book citations that went back to a book I read in high school! Then came imaginary exchanges with the students and I knew this plan was not working. My mind was just too hyper-active.

That was when I decided I needed to read Scripture. But I knew that the choice of what to read would be important: nothing too exciting (like Joshua) or too theologically complicated (like Romans or Revelation). Nothing to arouse me to ponder ongoing denominational debates. No, maybe something like Leviticus or the genealogical lists of Genesis 10  (“The sons of Gomer: Ashkenaz, Riphath, and Togarmah. The sons of  Javan: Elishah, Tarshish, Kittim, and Dodanim. . .  etc.”)

But then my choice became obvious: the Psalms. I remembered that many of them contained the cries of God’s people asking for relief, and I knew that applied to me.  So I began reading, right at Psalm 1 “Blessed is the man . . .” From that, I skipped around, looking for the words that seemed most relevant to my pressing need.

I found some very helpful passages. Psalm 86 spoke more generally where it said “Give ear, O Lord, to my prayer; listen to my plea for grace. In the day of my trouble I call upon you, for you answer me.” (verses 6, 7). And Psalm 127:2 addressed my need directly: “It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives to his beloved sleep.” Amen!

But what I discovered as I read these and other psalms was more important than verses about helping me to sleep. The thing that all these psalms had in common, besides whatever specific need they expressed, was that they praised God for who he was and what he has done. Even those psalms that complained to God about injustices, or celebrated his creation, or shared the wisdom of fearing God, all concluded by praising God.

As I pondered that, I realized that my own prayers had been weak in that area. Sure, God does call on us to bring all our needs to him. Christ himself taught us that the Father wants us to bring our petitions to him, that he knows our needs and will give us what we need (Matthew 6:8). But too often we treat God like a genie from Aladdin’s lamp; we summon him when we want something, and then put him away until next time. That’s actually a pagan way of treating God, as a servant we can control by saying the right magical incantations, making the right promises, giving the right offering, or performing the correct rituals.

Our right to call on our heavenly Father is not based on our actions, however sincere, but on our relationship to him; and that is based on his love and what he has done for us through Christ his Son. John 1:12 says, “to those who received him, who believed on his name, he gave the power to become the children of God.” Romans 8:16 says, “The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God. . .” Jesus reminded us that if our earthly fathers knew how to give good gifts to us, how much more will our heavenly Father do so (Luke 11:11-13).

Even if God had not made us his children and given us salvation,we should still praise and worship him for who he is. It is here that the psalms excel, and here where I had a lesson to relearn.

  • “At all times I will bless him; his praise will be in my mouth” (Psalm 34:1)
  •  “I will give thanks to you, O Lord, among the peoples; I will sing praises to you among the nations.” (Psalm 57:9)
  • “For great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised; he is to be feared above all gods.” (Psalm 96:4)
  • “From the rising of the sun to its setting, the name of the Lord is to be praised!” (Psalm 113:3)
  • “My mouth will speak the praise of the Lord, and let all flesh bless his holy name forever and ever.” (Psalm 145:21)
  • plus another 65 psalms that likewise praise the Lord.

After my reading, I listened to a couple hymns – “When Peace Like a River” and “Nearer My God to Thee” before lying back down and trying to sleep. I’d like to say I immediately fell asleep, but it still took a while. Again, it’s not magic. But I can say that all those other thoughts that had robbed me of my sleep had gone away, and I felt comforted to finally drift off in my Father’s arms.

Now may the Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you, the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. Amen.

Read: Psalms 34, 57, 96, 150.

 

 

 

Why Me, Lord?

As a pastor, I visited many people who were sick or injured, hospitalized,  or homebound on what were to become their deathbeds. Some were suffering quietly, while others went through agony from their  illness or from the  medical efforts to save them. I felt bad for them, for what they were going through, and tried to console them with prayer and scripture, that their faith would remain strong even as their bodies weakened. Most had faith that put mine to shame, accepting their condition stoically, or looking forward to seeing Jesus and their lost loved ones, but occasionally, one would ask the poignant question, “Why me?”

Sometimes I found myself silently asking God the same question for them. Why was this particular godly servant, lifelong believer, faithful church-goer having to go through this? Surely they should have a full, pain-free life, didn’t they? Surely there are plenty of evil people who deserve this suffering instead?

I was reminded of Psalm 73:3-5,in which Asaph complains to God, “For I was envious of the arrogant  when I saw the prosperity of the wicked. For they have no pangs until death; their bodies are fat and sleek. They are not in trouble as others are; they are not stricken like the rest of mankind.” Likewise, Jeremiah complained, “Why does the way of the wicked prosper?  Why do all who are treacherous thrive?” (Jeremiah 12:1)

The most personal this question came was when my sister asked it of me. She wondered what she had done wrong, to go through two divorces, several heart attacks, and the amputations of both her legs. Did God hate her? I tried assuring her of God’s love for her, reminding her of Job, the most righteous man of his day, who suffered loss and illness. And of Paul the great Apostle, who was afflicted by a “thorn in the flesh” in spite of his prayers for relief (2 Corinthians 12:7). Not to mention Jesus himself, who was tortured and killed on a cross, though perfectly innocent and holy. Her sufferings were not punishment for personal sin, but a consequence of a fallen world and our mortality. Sadly, her mortality was proven soon after.

But now, it’s my turn to ask, “Why me, Lord?” It’s been over twenty years now since I was diagnosed with diabetes, and other than some recurring foot problems, I’ve been able to live and function normally. I never missed a day of work from it, and retired six years ago, looking forward to times of travel and other activities. But, during that whole time, my diabetes was “chipping away” at my kidneys, decreasing their function, dropping me from one stage to another. Now, the kidneys have failed enough that I need to go on dialysis, something I have dreaded and postponed beginning.

So I now ask, “Why me?” But fortunately, because of my faith and my experiences with suffering believers, there’s no anger or sense of injustice in my question. I just want to know what purpose this will serve, what I am to learn (or teach) from it, and what I am to accomplish with the time I have been given. I have a paperweight that says, F.R.O.G. on it: Fully Rely On God. Below those words are written my special scripture: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight” (Proverbs 3:5-6). I want to keep that message in front of me, and trust that the God who has blessed my life so much for so long, has my future in his hands.

As to why I have this condition and others do not, I am reminded of the true story of a group of fathers and sons who took a bike ride up Pike’s Peak in Colorado. They were having a great time until two of the bikes collided, and one of them veered off the path and over the side of the cliff. Horrified, one of the fathers watched as his son plunged to his death. The stricken dad cried out in anguish, “Why me?” and the others in the group gathered around to comfort him as best they could. As it turned out, one of the other dads was a Lutheran pastor. The man looked the pastor in the eye and asked, “Why me?” To which the pastor replied sadly, “Why not you?”

The pastor’s question seems harsh at first. But I thought of it when my need to proceed with dialysis became clear. Why me? Why not me? Why should I, of all the people who have ever lived, be immune from sickness and suffering? What did I do to deserve such immunity? Maybe this is a time of testing as it was for Job, or my own thorn in the flesh, or my “cross to bear.” I know that once I was issued a handicapped placard, I became more aware of other people’s disabilities and sympathetic to them.* Maybe I have more to learn from what lies ahead – hopefully for years to come.

At the same time, I appreciate how blessed I have been for so many years. Basically, I was healthy for over fifty years, which itself was a good long time compared to most people throughout history. Likewise, I never suffered from serious injury or violent crime. I never had to go to war or flee as a refugee from war or natural disaster. I was never poor or destitute, but always had plenty to eat (as anyone who as seen me can attest.) I had godly parents who loved me and modeled the Christian life, raising me in the faith and making sure I was baptized. And not least of all, I have been married to a believing and faithful wife for almost 49 years. Not a bad run.

Therefore, I join with Job in asking, “Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive evil?” (Job 2:10). And leave the answer to “Why me?” to heaven – when I won’t care what the answer is, because I will be so filled with joy and awe. But then the question won’t be about why I am ill, but why would God choose me as one of his own. Praise God for his mercies shown in this life, and in the life to come!

Now may the Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you, the Lord life up his countenance upon you and give you peace. Amen.

Read: Job 2; Lamentations 3:13, 19-24; 2 Corinthians 12:7-10

*See my blog, “I Was Wrong” of January 15, 2022 for when I forgot this.