I, like Israel:

• Did not keep the covenant (Because He saved me, He is my Lord.)
• Refused to walk in His law (I know to do good, and don't.)
• Forgot His works (I accuse Him, and slip into doubt.)
• Rebelled against Him in the wilderness (Doubt and hard times bring rebellion rather than communion.)
• Tested God (I challenged His authority.)
• Did not trust His salvation (I did not believe His promises.)
• Flattered Him with my tongue (I said all the "right" things.)
• Lied to Him with my mouth (But I didn't believe them in my heart.)
• My heart was not steadfast (My faith wavered.)
• Grieved Him (My refusal to obey and the trouble I brought on myself grieved His heart.)
• Limited Him (I didn't even ask, sure He couldn't or wouldn't.)
• Forgot His power (How many times has He been there for me, but I chose to wallow.)
• Turned to idols (I looked elsewhere for comfort and strength.)

But He, being full of compassion, forgave [my] iniquity, and did not destroy [me].
Yes, many a time He turned His anger away,/ And did not stir up all His wrath;
For He remembered that [I am] but flesh,/ A breath that passes away and does not come again. (v.38-39)

(This is mostly a repost. Thanks for understanding!)

I don’t typically post on Wednesdays, but as part of Kelly Langston’s Authenticity Challenge, here we are. Each day I’m discussing what I believe is a key component to authentic faith and how I’m working on that in my own life.

On Wednesday mornings, I’m privileged to lead a ladies Bible study group and this week we looked at Psalm 78. The psalm details God’s interventions on behalf of Israel and their sins against Him in spite of it. In the middle of the Psalm are the words “For He remembered that they were but flesh”.

Frailty. It is common to all of humanity, but accepting it, even embracing it is unique among believers. I struggle with depression and have all of my adult life. It wasn’t until I admitted that this was something I couldn’t solve myself, that healing began. Grace and mercy in time of need became a daily reality rather than an abstract theological concept. I got real with my friends, and they’ve walked this road with me. It’s been bumpy at times. I’ve taken medication for 5 years and I’ve seen a psychiatrist and a therapist for close to 4 years now. Last week, my psychiatrist cut me loose. I’m managing well enough to go off medication. I still have quite a bit of work left with my therapist, but that’s another story for another day.

On Monday I mentioned that there is no place for shame in my life any longer, so frailty is nothing to be ashamed of. My weaknesses are just avenues for God to display His power and His strength. The more I acknowledge those weaknesses, the more He can work through them. However if I hide them, deny them or try to fix them myself, I tie His hands.

Frailty isn’t a justification for inaction. It’s a determination to persevere anyway. Just because I’ve owned one frailty doesn’t mean this is easy or even natural. I still fight it every chance I get. I don’t want to be “frail”. I do want to bring glory and honor to God. And frailty does just that. 2 Corinthians 4:7 explains “we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellence of the power may be of God and not us.”

[We are travelling to a faraway land with no internet service - our house in Ohio- so here's a post I wrote a while back but never published. I'll be back Tuesday with a fresh study tip.]

When I read passages like Psalm 78, it is easy to berate Israel for their faithlessness to God after all He had done for them. However, if I’m honest it would be fairly easy to write a psalm like this of my own life. God has done great things, intervened on my behalf, providentially cared for me, and yet I’ve rebelled, been faithless, certainly provoked Him.

Thank God He remembers my frailty.

I, like Israel:

But He is patient and gracious and receives me after I’ve learned these lessons… again.