Do You Believe It? - Chris Tibbetts

“The Lord is my Shepherd;  I shall not want

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

He leads me beside still waters.

He restores my soul.

He leads me in paths of righteousness for his Name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil,

for you are with me; 

your rod and your staff, 

they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me 

in the presence of my enemies;

you anoint my head with oil;

my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me, all the days of my life, 

and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

“Do you believe it, Al?”, Martha said.  

The sweet couple, a pair of musicians, had enjoyed over 40 years of marriage.  Her a kindergarten teacher, him a retired high school band and orchestra director, together, had helped shape the lives of countless children.  Now, however, their world was reduced to a 300 square foot hospital room where Al was being conditioned for a bone marrow transplant.  Soon, Al would receive an infusion of stem cells from a healthy donor — stem cells without leukemia.  The risk that Al would not survive the transplant was high, but he could not survive any longer without it.  And so, as Martha lay on a cot in the dark hospital room that night, she began praying Psalm 23 aloud with her husband, and when they had finished, she asked, “Do you believe it, Al?”  He paused, and then as much in worship as in reply, Al said, “Yes.”

Do we believe it?  Although our present situations may not approach the acuity of a Bone Marrow Transplant Unit, they have likely universally intensified over the past 9 months.  We have observed our world wrestle with a viral pandemic, we have seen our nation hit a boiling point on issues of race, and now we enter the last month of a presidential election cycle with a Supreme Court nominee in the balance.  Do we believe it?  Do we believe it, even now?

In the face of mortality, it is likely that the rich communion of a husband and wife resting in their savior consumed that evening.  Concerns of politics and the world were not the most pressing issues at that time.  Indeed, they likely couldn’t even merit a passing thought.  What will it be like to dwell in the house of the Lord forever?   

Do we believe it?  Or, perhaps a better question is, are we living as if we believe it?  Are we living as if we believe it, even now?  We do not have the perspective of 2000 years of Christian authorship and critique on the issues of this day— we can extrapolate in some instances, sure — but Paul did not wrestle with whether to wear a mask or not, Luke never gave a roadmap on how he worked with Big Pharma, and James never said how to handle a relative who makes their entire social media existence about proselytizing “sleepers” to wake up to fanciful conspiracy theories.  We don’t have carefully crafted, enticingly packaged, 8-week small group Bible studies challenging us on how to deal with pandemics that shut down a global economy.  Therefore, what we’re observing in our churches is an unfiltered, unedited, reactionary response to exogenous pressures that require us to apply our faith, to apply our changed heart, to apply our Christian ethics in real-time and in the real world.  Unfortunately, though, what we’re seeing frequently amongst Christians, is an animus that has erupted, fervently desiring to make converts to whatever they believe about masks, hydroxychloroquine, vaccines, or wild conspiracies.  Indeed, unfortunately, many Christians are showing this animus without any portion of grace, without any measure of hope, without any acknowledgment of the truth of the Gospel — even now.

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

He leads me beside still waters.

He restores my soul.

Is the Lord really my Shepherd?  Even now?  Christians, our functional theology is showing.  

The imminence of mortality pierces us in a way that little else can.  It reorients our hearts to the hope of Christ, the assurance of our pardon, and the joy of the righteousness afforded to us through the blood of our savior.  It causes the other issues in our lives to drift out of focus.  It causes our theology to function with greater urgency and clarity.  It causes us to function as Christians.   And as pastors, as elders and deacons, as women in the church, as Christians, we embrace these moments in believers and non-believers alike, don’t we?  These moments when the deluge of frivolous worldly stimuli ceases to be important.  These moments when the heart is open and the ears hear what their eyes have been ignoring.  These are the moments that we cannot miss, for these are the moments that we must pour the Gospel in.  

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil?  The events of this year have elicited myriad responses from the churched and unchurched in our country.  They have elicited responses that are visceral, that are dogmatic, and that are all too often utterly the same.  Christians, our functional theology is showing, and it looks a lot like those who have no hope.  

The most important issue of our day remains the same that it was on New Year’s Eve of 2019.  It is the pronouncement that Christ has come, he has given his perfect life as a ransom for his people, that you and I may not suffer the punishment due for our sins, but are now redeemed by the blood of Christ, and he is coming again!  Beautiful are the feet of those who preach that good news!

Christians, you have not been justified because you convinced someone that they should or should not be wearing a mask.  You will not be a herald of the absolute Truth of your Creator by propagating conspiracy narratives or extrapolating compelling anecdotes as normative, these only serve to further deconstruct a society neck-deep in the deconstruction of postmodernism.  You have not been called unto Christ to prioritize political rhetoric at the expense of your ministry outreach.  You have been called to glorify God and enjoy him — forever.  It is the first thing we teach our children when we catechize, as it is our chief end. 

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me, all the days of my life, 

and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Do you believe it?  Is your answer a joyful, yes!  Do you believe it, even now?  Does your life affirm it?  Does your life manifest a joyful, yes?  The darkness, sterility, and gravity of Al’s room painted a picture for the world of the Holy Spirit’s work in a husband and wife — a people prepared and resting in their savior bearing the burden that this may be the end.  But resting.  Resting the same.  Their savior in the foreground.  Do you believe it?  As the echo chambers of our social circles fill our ears, do we relegate our ministry, do we relegate our chief end, to the background?  Christian, you have a good Shepherd, he has anointed your head, and your cup overflows both now and forevermore.  Do you believe it?