raphah

"Be still, and know that I am God." The Bible in Basic English re-words it a bit: "Be at peace in the knowledge that I am God."

This is part of it, yes; being at peace. And yet,so many of us seek peace, long for peace, and yet feel as if it eludes us, over and over again. What does that "peace," that "being still" consist of? How is it found?

The Hebrew word used for "be still" is “raphah” - "to slacken, abate, cease, consume, draw, fail, faint, be (wax) feeble, forsake, idle, leave, let alone..."

How often do I, as a busy college student, truly raphah? How often do I allow my busy-ness to slacken, abate, and cease? Do I let my love for Christ consume me and draw me to His presence? Am I willing to fail, to faint, to be feeble - to admit that my strength is not sufficient; and that I must refresh myself in and draw strength from my Redeemer? And, as I do that, do I take the steps to receive that refreshing - do I forsake my "to-do" list, leave it completely behind me, and seek the face of God as I am still before Him?

"Be still.”

“Raphah.”

“Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls." (Matt. 11:28-29)

It's not easy, in today's world, to be still. On Labor Day this year, I committed to spending that "free day" with God; and yet, as I drove to my church to spend the day alone, I was mentally composing a list of everything I needed to do that week – the laundry that needed washing, my room that needed cleaning, the voice practice I needed to do before my lesson on Wednesday, the APA assignment due on Thursday, the ball game I wanted to go to the next night, the friend I wanted to spend time with before she left for several months... and then, suddenly, I realized my error.

"What are you doing, My child? Today is supposed to be devoted to Me, to spending time with Me -- not to worrying and carrying on like you usually do. Don't you think that I will bless that -- that if you spend time with Me, you can trust Me to help you with all those little details?"

And yet, even still, it was a struggle all day long. I couldn't seem to make myself "be still." I wasn't used to the idea of leaving everything behind and focusing completely on Him.

But how do we expect to be able to have a relationship with Him if we do not raphah? Jesus, over and over again, went off by Himself to be alone, to pray, to spend time with His Father. Do we think that we are stronger than He?

And when we pray, how do we pray? Are we simply praying for the prayer request list at church, or perhaps the prayers we’ve heard a thousand times – “Father, thank You for this day and this food; bless us and our family; amen” ?

Or do we raphah in our prayers? Do we “be still,” and “rest in the knowledge that He is God” ?

When we draw away, and spend time with God, we need to go to Him on our knees; to go in our weakness; to admit that we are faint and failing; we are parched, longing for water; we are feeble, without strength of our own; we need Him.

If we go to Him in our vulnerability, admitting our need, crying out to Him for help, for restoration and refreshing, He will answer our prayer. But we must go in that vulnerability, with a willingness to look at the painful places of our lives, the scarred and battered places in our hearts; a willingness to admit our need for healing. “They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick.” (Matt. 9:12) If we protest that we are whole; if we try to “have it all together”; then we have no need for Christ. We cannot raphah without vulnerability and weakness.
But we cannot live as Christians without learning to raphah. It is essential for us to learn how to come to our God in brokenness and vulnerability, to come to Him just as we are – not as we want to appear – because that is the only way for us to be healed, the only way for us to be made whole again.

Too many of us are trying to live for Christ – rushing from this activity to that project, from this ministry opportunity to that church function – without first learning how to live in Christ. It’s like attempting to quench the thirst of an entire village, with only our own thermos of water. We give a drop here and a drop there, but after a bit, we run out of water. And yet we continue rushing from person to person, trying to pour more water out of the empty thermos, seemingly oblivious to the fact that there is no water left to give.

“Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not bread? And your labor for that which satisfieth not? hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness. Incline your ear, and come unto me: hear, and your soul shall live; and I will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure mercies of David.” (Isaiah 55:1-3)

Before we try to give and give “until there’s nothing left, until it all runs out” (Relient K), we must learn how to live so that there will never be “nothing left.”

“But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” (John 4:14) The water that Christ offers is not just an igloo full of stagnant water to periodically refill our thermoses from. It’s a well of living water – an inexhaustible supply, springing forth to give us abundant refreshment.

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

And then comes the next phrase – “I will be exalted above the heathen; I will be exalted in the earth.” (Ps. 46:10b)

“As you rest in Me, as you admit your insufficiency and tap into My living water, then I can use you as a channel for my streams of life to flow through. Then, and only then, can you truly bless others and minister to them as I intended you to.”

“Be still – raphah. Be weak. Be vulnerable. Be open to My healing; allow Me to touch those inner, most painful parts of your spirit. Come to me, leaving all else behind you, and simply rest in me. Rest in the knowledge that I am God – that My power and My grace in you is way more than sufficient, more than able, to heal those broken pieces, and to make you whole again. The life I want to give you is more powerful than you can imagine. I want to be within you a well of life-giving water. And as you abide in the life I give you, My power will be seen by those around you. The villages that are parched and dying of thirst will stand in stark contrast to you, continually drinking from a well of fresh water. You will be a testimony to Me, you will have My eternal life to offer to others, my Name will be glorified and lifted up…
when first, you simply learn to raphah.”

Security

My heart aches tonight for all the sweet, precious girls that I've met in the last two weeks who are completely throwing themselves away on what is not worth anything... searching for security and acceptance... completely confused, insecure, and clutching at the straws of what they think is love.

College is presenting to me challenges that I never really foresaw. I never thought that, just a few days into school, my suitemate would come over to my room, plop herself down on my rug, and proceed to tell me all the drama of her life… this guy and that guy, Billy the “home boyfriend” who she thinks is cheating on her, and Brandon the guy she met at college, who she thinks is cute and who is very much hitting on her and who likes to play with her hair.

I never expected that “Candi,” the girl down the hall who I ate lunch with and had a movie night with and have class with every other day, would have a 25-year old boyfriend who keeps appearing in our hall. I never thought of it that Candi’s roommate would be coming down to my room to hang out, to get out of the way of the couple so they could have the girl’s room to themselves.

The girls are so clueless. They want to be cherished… to be held close and secure, to feel like someone cares, to know that someone thinks they’re beautiful. They want to be worth something.

And, in their quest for that security, they’re throwing away the incredible worth that they have.

On a smaller scale, I can identify. I know the feeling of wanting to be loved, accepted, cherished. Longing to “know and be known.” Needing to be held tight, to belong to someone.

I, too, know what it’s like to look for that in the wrong places. To feed off the attention of this guy and that guy. To base my self-worth and value on the recognition of the males in my life. And, when I didn’t receive that recognition, to feel as if I was worthless and a complete failure.

It was a vicious cycle, and one which, after several years, left me feeling as if guys were all complete jerks. I became bitter. I didn’t trust a single guy on earth, didn’t believe that such a thing as a good, Godly guy actually existed, and definitely didn’t want to ever try to trust a guy again. I was too scared that if I did, my fragile trust would be completely shattered, and I didn’t want to re-live that pain. It hurt too much.

Then, in came certain young men of God. And also, a certain aged man of God. And God worked through them to tear down my walls of cynicism, and teach me that it’s okay to need. It’s okay to want to be cherished by males. It’s okay to be vulnerable, to trust… because sometimes, trusting is vital enough, and having our trust honored is valuable enough, that it’s worth taking the risk of experiencing pain.

I don’t think the girls at college really know what it’s like to be vulnerable. Sure, they have relationships with their guys, they have intimacy; but not vulnerability. They’re seeking their needs to be filled, but not in the context of absolute commitment and trust. They’re too scared to give a guy the power to be the only one in their lives, because if they do, and he fails them, then they have nothing left.

As a daughter of God, I always have something left. I always have everything left that matters. Even if I do commit myself completely to one guy, and he fails me, I will not be alone. I can rest in His arms; I can be cherished, be hold close and secure; I can know that I am treasured, valued with His very life; I can trust that I belong to Him, and always will.

That’s what those girls are missing.

the haunting reality

It haunts me.

So vague, so fuzzy, so undefined… and yet so real, such a part of me that I can’t deny it. It is a dream, yet of what I know not entirely. It is a longing, but for what I do not fully understand. I grasp for it, but know not quite where to grasp. It is a yearning that I cannot clearly define.

It glimmers through my airplane window from the lights of a city… the lights of a million people, each one wrapped up in his own little world. It looks up at me through the eyes of a homeless man named Kent, peeking out from under his cardboard box to receive the food I offer him. It speaks from the concrete along the LA River in the language of the gangs, graffiti. It cries out in the heart-broken weeping of a small child, left feeling unloved once again. It walks towards me as a 64-year old alcoholic named Denise, trapped in an abusive relationship and desperate for a way of escape.

It is hopelessness, when I hold hope. It is hunger, when I hold food. It is bondage, when I hold the keys. It is darkness, when I hold light.

And I long to give that hope, to feed that hunger, to loose those bonds, to shine that light – and yet, so often, I know not how.

I look at my hands, the hands that I have dedicated to God for His service. And I long to use those hands to bring life, to heal, to do the work that Jesus did when He was here on earth.

But how? How, Lord? What do You want me to do?

I feel so small, so inadequate. I see the needs, I long to help. But I want to help everywhere. I want to fix all the world’s problems. I want to gather the entire city up in my arms and care for it as a mother cares for her child.

But I am not the savior of a city.

I am not even the savior of one person.

I cannot save them. I cannot force them to be saved.

All I can do is rest in my own Savior, and trust His love and His grace to be sufficient for them as well. It is only through Him that I can offer them any hope. It is only as I allow His light to shine through me that I can even begin to pierce the darkness that surrounds them.

And so I reach out my hand, and, instead of attempting to hold an entire city of people in that small hand…
I place my hand in the hand of my Savior.

Renewal

I step under the water. I stand, allowing its spray to cover me. With a sinking feeling, I turn the faucet hotter and hotter, until I can hardly tolerate the steaming shower. My face turns pink from the warmth. I scrub desperately, almost violently, in my effort to remove from myself the filth, the stench of the day. I grow nearly frantic in my desire to feel clean again. I pour shampoo in my palm and scrub at my scalp, removing hair along with the dirt, rubbing until my head is a mass of suds; yet still, I don’t feel clean.

Scenes flash through my mind, plaguing me with guilt, with despair. I wonder why I ever allowed those scenes to happen. The thoughts that never should have taken root; the words that never should have entered my mind, much less crossed my lips; the ugly attitudes that reared their heads, hissing, utterly despicable; the things I thought I had long since rid myself of.

Why? Where did they come from? In one nightmarish minute, the revolting, loathsome old habits returned with a vengeance. And I felt powerless to control them. So now, I subject myself to the scorching water, scrubbing until my skin tingles… and still, I feel filthy.

I had thought they were gone. I had thought I had changed. I had thought that the old would never again be a struggle like it had been; that I had worked through and dealt with and grown and matured, and was past all of that.

And then, there it was, staring me in the face, leering up at me and guffawing at my naiveté.

“I never left!” it scoffed. “You actually thought you were rid of me?! Thought you were more ‘mature’?! Bwahahaha… You’ll never be rid of me, Rachel. You can scrub all you want. I’ll still be here, clinging to you. And just when you think I’m gone, I’ll be right there in your face.”

Part of me almost believed the lie. After struggling for so long, what else was there to do?

And yet, there was a truth that spoke louder than the lie. So I held to what I knew, clutching at the only hope of vanquishing its voice.

I knew there was change. I knew there was growth. I knew that the Rae of now was not the same as the Rae of the past.

I knew that I had been “transformed by the renewing of my mind” (Ro. 12:2).
That word, “renewing,” comes from two different root words, according to Strong’s Greek Dictionary. The first, “ana,” carries with it the connotation of “repetition, intensity, [and] reversal.” The second, “kainos,” means “new, especially in freshness.”

You see, renewing does not mean that I am suddenly magically changed into a new, completely different person, and will never struggle again with the same issues. Renewing means repetition.

Renewing does not mean that the battle will be easily won, that it will hardly even be a struggle. Renewing means intensity - blood, sweat, and tears.

Renewing does not mean that the old will vanish away. Renewing means reversal of the old - a reversal of habit that may be slow and painful.

Renewing means a continual, intense struggle towards the new and the fresh; a repeated reversal of the old and finding of the new.

Jesus promised that the living water He gave would be “a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” Not a lake of stagnant water, spread out before my eyes; but a well – an unknown, untapped, inexhaustible supply, the riches of which I am to explore.

It’s all about the exploration.

It’s all about the journey.

Because renewal, after all, is a journey – a never-ending odyssey, full of bumps and twists and turns; an endless striving towards that which is truth.

Under the Rainbow

Rainbows have always fascinated me. They’re rare enough to be incredibly special, yet ordinary enough that we each have the opportunity to see them multiple times throughout our lives. They seem so real, real enough that we know they must have a beginning and an end; we seek to follow their paths and find the legendary pot of gold at the end. Yet they are merely shimmering bits of light, intangible, unreachable, untouchable.

Then, of course, there’s the promise of the rainbow. The promise of the Noahic Covenant.

And God said, This is the token of the covenant which I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for perpetual generations: I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth. And it shall come to pass, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that the bow shall be seen in the cloud: And I will remember my covenant, which is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall no more become a flood to destroy all flesh. And the bow shall be in the cloud; and I will look upon it, that I may remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is upon the earth. And God said unto Noah, This is the token of the covenant, which I have established between me and all flesh that is upon the earth. (Genesis 9:12-17)

The promise of the rainbow is a promise between God and man – a supernatural covenant. It is an unconditional covenant; not contingent upon man and his choices, but simply a promise made by God, regardless of man’s response to it. God will remember His covenant, whether man does or not.

This covenant does not promise that there will be no storms. It does not promise that no rain will fall. But the promise of the rainbow is a promise that I will not be destroyed by the storm. It is a promise that, as I allow God’s light to shine through the rain in my life, something of beauty can be created. It is a promise that my God is bigger than any storm.

Every time I see the rainbow, it feels like a little hug from God. Because the rainbow, to me, is a promise of hope.