The Lord Is My Portion

I cry to you, O LORD; I say, “You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living” (Psalm 142:5, ESV).

The seventeenth century author, John Donne, wrote, “No man is an island…” His point was that every other human being enriches us and their loss diminishes us to some degree. Another way of saying this is that no one is sufficient in himself; we all seek some kind of refuge because ultimately we cannot stand alone.

The writer of this Psalm was David, long before he became king. He was running for his life and took shelter by hiding in a cave. This happened twice in the Scripture (I Sam 22 and 24). In the first incident, he was fleeing from the king of Gath; in the second he was fleeing from Saul. We cannot be sure which incident this arose from, but it is immaterial. David knew his resources were insufficient. The men that were with him were a comfort to him, I’m sure, but they were no match for the thousands that either enemy could bring against them. David felt overwhelmed; he needed a Refuge.

The Refuge he found was in the God of Israel. It wasn’t that he disdained or didn’t appreciate those that supported him; he just knew that if he were to be delivered, the God he worshiped would have to step in to do it. In both cave episodes, David sees a marvelous deliverance. The first was the provision of a pagan king who sheltered his parents; the second was the shame that Saul experienced when David could have killed him but did not. Other people surrounded David in both places, but his trust was in the God of Israel, not in human deliverance.

We in this generation have lost that spirit of genuine trust in God. The terms, “faith” and “trust,” are often interchangeable in the Scripture — trust is an active expression of faith. But our society has substituted a nebulous “belief” for active trust. Perhaps it’s because we have grown accustomed to having a safety net beneath us. If everything seems hopeless, our savings or our government or our family or someone else will step in and bail us out. David didn’t have the government as a safety net — indeed, it was the government that was pursuing him!

At least part of the reason we have lost that trust in God is that the government (or any other refuge) is gullible — we don’t have to be completely honest with them. We don’t have to admit our sins and our failures; we don’t have to declare our fears. In short, we don’t have to make ourselves vulnerable. But we do with the God of Israel. He expects humility and honesty when we come before Him, not excuses and justifications. He is certainly willing to forgive, but most of us fear that our deliverance will be conditioned upon some loss of face before others. That may be a legitimate fear; He may demand it. But the rewards for truly trusting Him are well worth any humility we might experience.

In another Psalm, David put it this way, “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God” (Psalm 20:7, ESV).

Like Christ in His Sufferings

“That I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death” (Philippians 3:10, ESV).

“O to be like Thee…” is the cry of an old hymn that is seldom sung any more. Yet it reflects the idea that the goal of the Christian life is “Christlikeness,” being like Jesus. Paul spoke of the intense longing he had that Christ “should be formed” in the Galatian believers (Gal. 4:19). The formation of Christ in the believer was so important to him that he likened this intense longing to childbirth. In Romans 8 Paul told his readers that God’s plan from the very beginning was that His people would be “conformed to the image of his Son” (29).

The old hymn (and most popular opinion) would have us believe that Christlikeness in the Christian makes us “full of compassion, loving, forgiving, tender and kind.” If we have been conformed to His image we are active in “helping the helpless, cheering the fainting, seeking the wandering sinner to find.”

Now I hope my readers understand that I agree with the sentiments of this great old hymn, but there is another side to Christlikeness that Thomas Chisholm doesn’t overtly address in his hymn — the sharing in His sufferings. Alongside compassion and forgiveness, Paul also rejoiced that he could suffer as Christ suffered (Phil 3:10), that he could “fill up what was lacking in Christ’s afflictions” (Col 1:24). It’s hard to imagine that Jesus’ sufferings lacked anything, but Paul seems clear that there is a certain amount of suffering that His followers would experience in this life.

Often when we think of Christ’s sufferings, we focus upon the “Passion Week” those six intense days that culminated in the physical pain of His crucifixion. But the Old Testament gives us some indication that there were other times when Messiah suffered mistreatment and misunderstanding, and that He felt these sufferings keenly. Several of the Psalms are recognized as Messianic Psalms and give us hints into the emotions our Lord experienced.

The disciples recognized the Messiah’s zeal for the house of God when He drove out the moneychangers (John 2:17). This reference comes from Psalm 69:9 and the succeeding phrases and verses describe the anguish of our Lord as He bore “the reproaches of those who reproach [God].” He “wept”; He “made sackcloth [His] clothing, [He] became a byword to them” and was “the talk of those who sit in the gate.”

I find it very comforting to see the expressions of how Messiah felt when His prayers seemed to fall on deaf ears (see Ps. 69:19-20, 29). The Father’s ears were not deaf, as we all know, but Messiah felt that they were, at least for a time — just as I do sometimes.

The Scripture speaks of the ebb and flow of life between suffering and comfort. Peter reminds us that “after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you” (1 Peter 5:10). Suffering is not permanent, even if it seems like it for a while. But it is a necessary component of being like Jesus.