Max Lucado (16 page)
At least, that had been his intention. “I had intended to build a permanent home for the ark of the covenant of the Lord and for the footstool of our God. So I had made preparations to build it” (28:2 NASB).
Preparations.
Architects chosen. Builders selected. Blueprints and plans, drawings and numbers. Temple columns sketched. Steps designed.
“I had intended . . . I had made preparations . . .”
Intentions. Preparations. But no temple. Why? Did David grow discouraged? No. He stood willing. Were the people resistant? Hardly. They gave generously. Were the resources scarce? Far from it. David “supplied more bronze than could be weighed, and . . . more cedar logs than could be counted” (1 Chron. 22:3â4 NCV). Then what happened?
A conjunction happened.
Conjunctions operate as the signal lights of sentences. Some, such as
and,
are green. Others, such as
however,
are yellow. A few are red. Sledgehammer red. They stop you. David got a red light.
I had made preparations to build it.
But
God said to me, “You shall not build a house for My name because you are a man of war and have shed blood. . . . Your son Solomon is the one who shall build My house and My courts.” (1 Chron. 28:2â3, 6 NASB, emphasis mine)
David's bloodthirsty temperament cost him the temple privilege. All he could do was say:
I had intended . . .
I had made preparations . . .
But
God . . .
I'm thinking of some people who have uttered similar words. God had different plans than they did.
One man waited until his midthirties to marry. Resolved to select the right spouse, he prayerfully took his time. When he found her, they moved westward, bought a ranch, and began their life together. After three short years, she was killed in an accident.
I had intended . . .
I had made preparations . . .
But
God . . .
A young couple turned a room into a nursery. They papered walls, refinished a baby crib, but then the wife miscarried.
I had intended . . .
I had made preparations . . .
But
God . . .
Willem wanted to preach. By the age of twenty-five, he'd experienced enough life to know he was made for the ministry. He sold art, taught language, traded in books; he could make a living, but it wasn't a life. His life was in the church. His passion was with the people.
So his passion took him to the coalfields of southern Belgium. There, in the spring of 1879, this Dutchman began to minister to the simple, hardworking miners of Borinage. Within weeks his passion was tested. A mining disaster injured scores of villagers. Willem nursed the wounded and fed the hungry; even scraping the slag heaps to give his people fuel.
After the rubble was cleared and the dead were buried, the young preacher had earned a place in their hearts. The tiny church over-flowed with people hungry for his simple messages of love. Young Willem was doing what he'd always dreamed of doing.
But
. . .
One day his superior came to visit. Willem's lifestyle shocked him. The young preacher wore an old soldier's coat. His trousers were cut from sacking, and he lived in a simple hut. Willem had given his salary to the people. The church official was unimpressed. “You look more pitiful than the people you came to teach,” he said.
What do you do with the “but God” moments in life?
Willem asked if Jesus wouldn't have done the same. The older man would have none of it. This was not the proper appearance for a minister. He dismissed Willem from the ministry.
The young man was devastated.
He only wanted to build a church. He only wanted to honor God. Why wouldn't God let him do this work?
I had intended . . .
I had made preparations . . .
But
God . . .
What do you do with the “but God” moments in life? When God interrupts your good plans, how do you respond?
The man who lost his wife has not responded well. At this writing he indwells a fog bank of anger and bitterness. The young couple is coping better. They stay active in church and prayerful about a child.
David faced the behemoth of disappointment
with “yet God.” David trusted.
And Willem? Now that's a story. But before I share it, what about David? When God changed David's plans, how did he reply? (You'll like this.)
He followed the “but God” with a “yet God.”
Yet, the Lord, the God of Israel, chose me from all the house of my father to be king over Israel forever. For He has chosen Judah to be a leader; and in the house of Judah, my father's house, and among the sons of my father He took pleasure in me to make me king over all Israel. (1 Chron. 28:4 NASB)
Reduce the paragraph to a phrase, and it reads, “Who am I to complain? David had gone from runt to royalty, from herding sheep to leading armies, from sleeping in the pasture to living in the palace. When you are given an ice cream sundae, you don't complain over a missing cherry.
David faced the behemoth of disappointment with “yet God.” David trusted.
So did Willem. Initially, he was hurt and angry. He lingered in the small village, not knowing where to turn. But one afternoon he noticed an old miner bending beneath an enormous weight of coal. Caught by the poignancy of the moment, Willem began to sketch the weary figure. His first attempt was crude, but then he tried again. He didn't know it, but at that very moment, Willem discovered his true calling.
Not the robe of clergy, but the frock of an artist.
Not the pulpit of a pastor, but the palette of a painter.
Not the ministry of words, but of images. The young man the leader would not accept became an artist the world could not resist: Vincent Willem van Gogh.
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His “but God” became a “yet God.”
Who's to say yours won't become the same?
H
E VIES for the bedside position, hoping to be the first voice you hear. He covets your waking thoughts, those early, pillow-born emotions. He awakes you with words of worry, stirs you with H thoughts of stress. If you dread the day before you begin your day, mark it down: your giant has been by your bed.
And he's just getting warmed up. He breathes down your neck as you eat your breakfast, whispers in your ear as you walk out the door, shadows your steps, and sticks to your hip. He checks your calendar, reads your mail, and talks more trash than players in an inner-city basketball league.
“You ain't got what it takes.”
“You come from a long line of losers.”
“Fold your cards and leave the table. You've been dealt a bad hand.”
He's your giant, your Goliath. Given half a chance, he'll turn your day into his Valley of Elah, taunting, teasing, boasting, and echoing claims from one hillside to the other. Remember how Goliath misbehaved? “For forty days, twice a day, morning and evening, the Philistine giant strutted in front of the Israelite army” (1 Sam. 17:16 NLT).
Goliaths still roam our world. Debt. Disaster. Dialysis. Danger. Deceit. Disease. Depression. Super-size challenges still swagger and strut, still pilfer sleep and embezzle peace and liposuction joy. But they can't dominate you. You know how to deal with them. You face giants by facing God first.
Focus on giantsâyou stumble.
Focus on Godâyour giants tumble.
You know what David knew, and you do what David did. You pick up five stones, and you make five decisions. Ever wonder why David took five stones into battle? Why not two or twenty? Rereading his story reveals five answers. Use your five fingers to remind you of the five stones you need to face down your Goliath. Let your thumb remind you of . . .
1. THE STONE OF THE PAST
Goliath jogged David's memory. Elah was a déjà vu. While everyone else quivered, David remembered. God had given him strength to wrestle a lion and strong-arm a bear. Wouldn't he do the same with the giant?
David said to Saul, “Your servant used to keep his father's sheep, and when a lion or a bear came and took a lamb out of the flock, I went out after it and struck it, and delivered the lamb from its mouth; and when it arose against me, I caught it by its beard, and struck and killed it. Your servant has killed both lion and bear; and this uncircumcised Philistine will be like one of them, seeing he has defied the armies of the living God.” (17:34â36)
A good memory makes heroes. A bad memory makes wimps. Amnesia made a wimp out of me last week. My Goliath awoke me at 4:00 a.m. with a woeful list of worries. Our church was attempting to
Write today's worries in sand. Chisel yesterday's victories in stone.
raise money for a youth building, more money than we had ever raised in one effort.
The giant awoke me with ridicule.
You guys are crazy. You'll never
collect that much money.
I couldn't argue.
The economy is down. People
are stressed. We may not raise enough to buy one brick.
Goliath had me running for the trees.
But then I remembered David, the nine-to-two odds, the story of the lion and the bear. So I decided to do what David did: gaze at God's victories. I climbed out of bed, walked into the living room, turned on the lamp, pulled out my journal, and began making a list of lion- and bear-size conquests.
In the five previous years, God had prompted
⢠a businessman to donate several acres of land to the church;
⢠another church to buy our old building;
⢠members to give above the needs, enabling the church to be 80 percent debt free.
God has done this before,
I whispered. A lion's head hangs in the church foyer, and a bear rug rests on the sanctuary floor. About this time I heard a thud. Right there in the living room! I turned around just in time to see Goliath's eyes cross and knees buckle and body fall face-first on the carpet. I stood and placed a foot on his back and chuckled,
Take that, big boy.
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“Remember His marvelous works which He has done” (1 Chron. 16:12). Catalog God's successes. Keep a list of his world records. Has he not walked you through high waters? Proven to be faithful? Have you not known his provision? How many nights have you gone to bed hungry? Mornings awakened in the cold? He has made roadkill out of your enemies. Write today's worries in sand. Chisel yesterday's victories in stone. Pick up the stone of the past. Then select . . .
2. THE STONE OF PRAYER
Note the valley between your thumb and finger. To pass from one to the next you must go through it. Let it remind you of David's descent. Before going high, David went low; before ascending to fight, David descended to prepare. Don't face your giant without first doing the same. Dedicate
time to prayer. Paul, the apostle, wrote,
Peace is promised to the one who
fixes thoughts and desires on the king.
“Prayer is essential in this ongoing warfare. Pray hard and long” (Eph. 6:18 MSG).
Prayer spawned David's successes. His Brook Besor wisdom grew out of the moment he “strengthened himself in the Lord his God” (1 Sam. 30:6). When Saul's soldiers tried to capture him, David turned toward God: “You have been my defense and refuge in the day of my trouble” (Ps. 59:16).
How do you survive a fugitive life in the caves? David did with prayers like this one: “Be good to me, Godâand now! I've run to you for dear life. I'm hiding out under your wings until the hurricane blows over. I call out to High God, the God who holds me together” (Ps. 57:1â2 MSG).
When David soaked his mind in God, he stood. When he didn't, he flopped. You think he spent much time in prayer the evening he seduced Bathsheba? Did he write a psalm the day he murdered Uriah? Doubtful.
Mark well this promise: “[God] will keep in perfect peace all who trust in [God], whose thoughts are fixed on [God]” (Isa. 26:3 NLT). God promises not just peace but perfect peace. Undiluted, unspotted, unhindered peace. To whom? To those whose minds are “fixed” on God. Forget occasional glances. Dismiss random ponderings. Peace is promised to the one who fixes thoughts and desires on the king.
Invite God's help. Pick up the stone of prayer. And don't neglect . . .
3. THE STONE OF PRIORITY
Let your tallest finger remind you of your highest priority: God's reputation. David jealously guarded it. No one was going to defame his Lord. David fought so that “all the earth may know that there is
See your struggle as God's canvas.
On it he will paint his multicolored supremacy.
a God in Israel. Then all this assembly shall know that the Lord does not save with sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord's” (1 Sam. 17:46â47).
David saw Goliath as a chance for God to show off ! Did David know he would exit the battle alive? No. But he was willing to give his life for the reputation of God.
What if you saw your giant in the same manner? Rather than begrudge him, welcome him. Your cancer is God's chance to flex his healing muscles. Your sin is God's opportunity to showcase grace. Your struggling marriage can billboard God's power. See your struggle as God's canvas. On it he will paint his multicolored supremacy. Announce God's name and then reach for . . .
4. THE STONE OF PASSION
As Goliath moved closer to attack, David quickly ran out to meet him. Reaching into his shepherd's bag and taking out a stone, he hurled it from his sling and hit the Philistine in the fore-head. The stone sank in, and Goliath stumbled and fell face downward to the ground. (17:48â49 NLT)
David ran, not away from, but toward his giant. On one side of the battlefield, Saul and his cowardly army gulped. On the other,
David lobotomized the giant
because he emphasized the Lord.
Goliath and his skull-splitters scoffed. In the middle, the shepherd boy ran on his spindly legs. Who bet on David? Who put money on the kid from Bethlehem? Not the Philistines. Not the Hebrews. Not David's siblings or David's king. But God did.
