As Christians, we’re called to be different. That’s a no-brainer. Don’t get drunk. Don’t have premarital sex. Don’t steal. Don’t lie. Don’t cuss. You’ve probably heard those commands. And chances are, you’ve heard them from the supposedly “good” people of the world — Christians.
Now, don’t get me wrong, those statements are true. We are, indeed, called to be different. But there’s a reason why. Most people know God’s commands, but if they don’t know the reason behind those commands, they’ll likely continue living in disobedience.
Do you ever find yourself partaking in something which seems to pose no danger?
There are many things in life that appear beautiful on the outside. But when you really dig beneath the surface, great dangers exist.
Take last Monday’s solar eclipse, for example. The moon covered the sun. The sky darkened. And millions of people scurried to see it with their own eyes—protected, of course.
“He restores my soul…” (Psalm 23:3 ESV).
The Hebrew word being used for “restore” is shûb, meaning “turn” or “return.”
Then, there’s “soul.” It’s a translation of the Hebrew word nephesh. The definition? Well, in Psalm 23, it’s defined as “the life of the individual.” But it also relates to a variety of other English words—for example, “mind.” According to my dictionary, a single word in our language doesn’t give it justice.
Your life is so valuable—so deep, amazing, and beautiful—that it’s nearly impossible to define the deepest part of who you are with a single word.
Therefore, let’s go back to the four words quoted from Psalm 23:3. After studying some Hebrew, it means something like this: “God turns, or returns, my life.”
Sin ruins everything.
It’s heartbreaking. But sometimes, my heart needs broken so Christ can fully escape. In moments like these, I don’t struggle with my ego. Instead of reflecting on God’s goodness, I hurl at my own nastiness.
My original plan this morning was to write a column. But now, I wonder why I even have the opportunity of doing it. To be honest, I practically told God to find someone else. It’s heartbreaking. I feel so distant from the hand of God because sin ruins everything.
My mind can be a friend or an enemy. Recently, the latter seems more realistic.
Every day, there’s a brutal battle in my brain. A battle between feeling and conviction. Obedience and disobedience. Love and hate. Or better yet, allow me to place a generic face on our enemy—Satan himself. “For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12).